They walked in silence, and Noah found his gaze fixed upon Senga’s back. Her long, white-blonde hair hung down her back in an untidy braid, with clumps of hair coming loose from the plait.
I used to love her hair. I’d wind it around my fingertips and feel the silky smoothness of it against my palm. Sometimes I can still feel it.
He gave himself a tight shake, forcing the thoughts out of his mind. He had been through this already, hadn’t he? One heartbreak was enough. One betrayal of this magnitude was enough.
Oh, Noah had often been betrayed before, by friends and allies, like everybody else. But this was something else. This was a betrayal that scarred a man till the day he died.
They reached the stables, and Senga paused, inches away from the doorway. She turned, glancing over her shoulder, and met his eye.
“I can’t go in.”
The words had a meaning to them, a sort of weight that he couldn’t quite catch. What was she talking about?
“Why?” Noah heard himself ask.
Running from yer memories, Senga? I know I do.
Senga turned, facing the dark entrance to the stables once more, and he saw her shoulders hunch up under her ears.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
Clenching his jaw, Noah came to stand alongside her. He kept the rope slack in his hand. The horse nudged his shoulder almost thoughtfully, and he lifted an absent-minded hand to smooth her cheek.
“It’s only a stable,” Noah murmured. “Ye did not hesitate back then.”
She gave a wry smile. “Perhaps I only need someone to guide me back in.”
Noah’s arm twitched out, and he realized to his own horror that he’d meant to reach out and take her hand, as if they were still lovers.
Well, we aren’t,he told himself angrily.We’re nothing to each other. Not anymore.
He kept his hand firmly by his side. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Senga close her eyes. It was like she wanted to get this off her chest, but kept hesitating.
“The smell,” she whispered. “I can’t do it.”
He frowned. “The horse smell? Is it too much for yer lady senses nowadays, lass?”
“Nay, not that kind of smell. I mean the blood.”
He blinked and took a long sniff. “There’s no blood. What do ye?—”
Abruptly, she turned away, and he caught a glimpse of her face, white and sweating.
“I can’t do it,” she whispered. “Take care of Bluebell. I… I had better get to the infirmary.”
She took off at a run, not even looking back at him. Noah twisted around to look at her, but she never looked back at him. Keeping her head down, she darted into the darkness of the Keep. The silence seemed more absolute with her gone.
Clenching his jaw, Noah resolutely turned around and plunged into the darkness of the stables. Bluebell followed mildly behind him.
The midday sun was weak,not warm at all, but Noah and Brendan sweated heavily as they sparred. Blinking sweat out of his eyes, Noah recovered just in time to dodge a powerful parry from Brendan.
If he hadn’t dodged, the point of the wooden sword would have dug straight into his torso. Generally, such a mistake would leave him with bruises and a lingering soreness, but with the current state of his ribs, there was potential for a worse injury.
He should have told Brendan about his wounds, Noah knew that, but he privately hoped that they would heal quietly and let him get on with his life. He wanted to be busy. He wanted towork. At the very least, he’d told Brendan about the incident in the courtyard.
“Senga can keep that horse if she likes,” Brendan remarked, hopping on the balls of his feet at a respectable distance. Brendan liked to chat during their sparring matches, probably because he knew it distracted Noah. “Freya’s glad to have her friend staying.”
Noah grunted. “I should have been overseeing that stable lad. She could have been hurt.”
