He cares.
From the stories I’ve heard, he protects Wren and Dax in battle, taking the brunt of the damage to spare them harm.
And he loves me.
How do I know this? After we collect our belongings from the bank, he holds my hand as we walk back to the fire. Sits me on my bedroll. Has a good laugh with Wren and Dax about how long we took. Then he removes the cloak from my body and replaces it with my clothing, swatting my hands away whenever I attempt to interfere with him dressing me himself.
He even adds more wood to the fire to ensure we stay warm throughout the night.
Only once I’m duly bundled, and every tangle is brushed from my hair, does he tuck me under the blanket and take his place over by a tree at the edge of our little camp to watch over us while we sleep. He’s sacrificing his rest to protect us when we’re most vulnerable.
If all this isn’t love, nothing is.
ChapterTwelve
Thank fucking God Lansing is intact when we arrive.
Most of it, anyway.
We can see white tendrils of smoke from the road. Those ghostly fingers reach high enough to disappear into the clouds. My stomach coils into a tight, painful knot as we charge ahead, and all I think is,Please let her be alive—because I’m not burying my mother. Not today. Not like this. I refuse to accept the possibility that she’s dead at the hands of John’s men.
Although the king’s soldiers left most of Lansing untouched, they torched the village green. The merchant shops, stable, and Guildhall still smolder. They also destroyed the church, damn them. While I’m not a religious man, even I find such destruction sacrilegious.
Chaos rages around us as we race toward The Cup and Crown. As we do, I finally understand what it was like for Wren all those months ago when he rode into Leeds to find the town destroyed with a handful of royal soldiers lingering. That day, we arrived too late to save Mary Kincaid.
I fear we’re too late now to save Adele Stafford.
Sweet God in heaven, if you have mercy in Your heart, please let my mother live.
The plea screams inside my mind as I take the lead, steering my horse down streets I made mischief in when I was a boy. Streets where I always felt safe, where people I’ve known all my life are now running in fear from men bearing the royal coat of arms. Fleeing from men I once fought beside back when I was a knight and believed John was a good man and an honorable king. But that son of a bitch made a mockery of the oath he took the day the Archbishop of Loslow placed Rygard’s crown upon his head.
With my conscience abandoned on the battlefield years ago, I pull free my sword and swing my arm in a low, downward arc, slicing the first man I see draped in John’s colors. I ride hard and show no mercy to the soldiers who terrorize Lancing’s citizens. I slash a young soldier chasing a screaming woman, my mouth curled in a vicious grin as I send the prick to Hell where he belongs. And I keep swinging, cutting down every man wearing the red and gold of John’s house that stands between us and The Cup and Crown.
As I goad my horse down the bloodied and hectic street, a glance over my shoulder shows Rapunzel and Wren directly behind me. Quinn protects our backs. The way ahead is unobstructed, and as I round the corner, I swear on all that’s holy my heart freezes in my chest when I count five horses draped in John’s coat of arms tied to the hitching posts outside my mother’s establishment.
Goddamn it.
I hoped to arrive in time to get my mother out safely.
I hoped that for all the times my mother treated John’s soldiers fairly, they would have skipped The Cup and Crown.
I hoped…
Fuck.
I hoped.
That hope dies a swift and brutal death. If even one fucking hair is out of place on her fucking head…
Instantly, rage replaces worry. And that fury is a storm that has me leaping off my horse, with each beat of my heart a painful bang inside my chest. A hand on my arm has me spinning and nearly impaling Rapunzel on my blade. “Christ—”
Rapunzel gasps and leaps back, eyes wide as she realizes how close she came to getting stabbed. “I’m sorry.”
“Keep her the fuck back,” I hiss.
Wren grabs her and shoves her behind me, dropping behind Quinn.
“I hear her. She’s giving them hell.” Quinn breaks from us and charges for the tavern. “Fuck. They know we have Rapunzel.”
