I shake my head. “I’m quite warm, actually.”
Just heartbroken and anxious.
The gusting wind hits like a bitter slap, but it’s true. I hardly feel it, nestled as I am under my layers of clothing. Wren insisted I forgo a gown in favor of men’s garb. Scandalous, sure, but functional. Being stuck in a saddle is more comfortable when wearing breeches than a skirt. Emma stitched my clothes together in preparation for this journey. The brown linen shirt, wool jerkin, and cloak keep out the chill. The thick fur-lined cloak over it, though, makes all the difference. Still, being out in the rain, with the hood pulled up over my head, it’s already damp.
With my hands tucked into leather gloves and my braided hair stuffed safely hidden under my clothes, it’s concealed. A necessity since we’re unsure how much the outside world has learned about me. Not that we suspect John told many people about my existence, but still… Rumors spread, and there’s too much land between Dyhurst and Newkirk for unnecessary risks. Best not to draw unwanted attention during our trek.
“Your face is red from the cold already.” Dax is close enough to lean over and run his knuckles down the bridge of my runny nose. Unlike me, he’s not wrapped up tight. Nor does he seem affected by the chill that must permeate his breeches, leather jerkin, and wool cloak. The hood is loose over his head, more hanging off than covering him against the annoying mist. “You’re going to freeze to death before we get to Newkirk.”
“It’s October, not February,” I remind him, although his concern is sweet. “I’ll survive.”
He motions to my mare with a jut of his chin. “Let’s see what you say after a full day sitting in that saddle with the wind slapping at your face.”
“Are you trying to frighten me, Dax Stafford?”
“He doesn’t need to try,” Quinn drawls as he strolls from the keep. Dressed head to foot in black, he is a living shadow. He moves with incredible grace for a man of his height and muscular physique—a testimony to a lifetime spent wielding a sword. And while he, like Dax, is always worried about my well-being, he’s not obviously concerned for himself. At least the stubborn man finally pulls the hood of his wool cloak over his head.
One hand rests on the pommel of his sword. In the other, he carries a satchel that’s nearly full to bursting. When he reaches his black steed, he takes a moment to give the incredibly well-trained animal a gentle scratch behind its ear. “You should be fucking terrified.”
“Well, I’m not.” I lift my chin and match his glare. “This day marks a new beginning for this kingdom.”
He narrows those dark eyes on me. Dare I admit to seeing pride in them?
“Good.” After securing the pouch to the saddle, Quinn mounts his steed. His ebony hair hangs free around his face. The dark, wild strands brush his broad shoulders, giving him a primal edge that takes my breath away. When he pulls the hood of his black cloak over his head, it hides the sharp features of his face, swallowing his somber expression in shadow. “Don’t you dare forget what we’re setting out to accomplish.”
I swallow the lump that’s jumped up—and gotten stuck—in the back of my throat. “Victory at any cost.”
“I’ve already lost one woman I…care about…to that fucking piece of shit. Don’t let him take you from me as well,” Quinn mutters. I’m not sure if it’s meant for me to hear, but I did—and so does my heart. Then he motions to the satchel. “Bryce packed us enough food to last a month, at least.”
That has Dax smiling. “Can’t say I won’t appreciate a taste of home while on the road.”
“Let’s see what you say when we’re gnawing on stale bread and grinding our teeth on venison that’s tougher to chew than leather.” Then Quinn turns to me and…stares. Watches for so long, I bristle under his scrutiny.
Shifting in the saddle, I gather the fur-lined cloak tighter around myself. Finally, when I can’t take his silent stare for one more moment. I tilt my head and shrug my shoulders. “Is something amiss?”
“Not at this moment.” Still, he doesn’t take his gaze from me. “I am a man appreciating his woman.”
Untucking a hand, I swipe errant wisps of hair the drizzle has stuck to my forehead. “I am a drowned rat.”
“You are captivating.” Quinn’s midnight gaze wanders over me. “What I can see of you, anyway, buried as you are.” And then his mouth—those wicked lips that bring me such pleasure—lift in the hint of a grin. “Not that it matters how many layers you wear. I know what’s underneath.”
“Can’t have her catch her death.” Dax makes a dramatic shudder as if the cold is suddenly too much for him.
Quinn pulls a sardonic face. “Call it a hunch, but I doubt the elements will cause Rapunzel to catch her death.”
Along with healing and keeping me alive, my hair also maintains my health. It prevents me from falling ill. I’ve never even experienced something as common as the sniffles.
Dax opens his mouth to speak but snaps his mouth closed when Wren emerges from the keep. He strides toward us, bow in hand and quiver full of arrows slung over his back. His chestnut hair is pulled away from his face and tied at the nape of his neck. With his expression as bleak as the morning, he says nothing as he greets his majestic brown steed with a scratch under its chin. The animal nudges him for more affection, and he complies by kissing the sweet beast on the side of the head before mounting.
Then he heaves out a loud and long sigh. “Ready?”
Quinn nods. “As ever we’ll be.”
Wren gives me a curt nod. I offer him a small, reassuring smile in answer. Then Dax spurs his horse into motion, and my stomach seems to fall to my feet. This day was inevitable. Eventually, we had to leave this desolate, crumbling castle. But as Hope, my sweet, speckled gray, takes her first steps to carry me toward my future, I don’t want to go. Selfishly, I want to hop off her back and run straight inside the keep.
Odd, I spent twenty-four years as a voluntary prisoner inside a tower, yet it was never my home. But Dyhurst… It’s become my haven, and when I glance over my shoulder and see it behind me, the sting of tears catches me by surprise.
Wren drops back to ride beside me. “Zee?”
