“I don’t know. I need…I need some time.”
He nodded slowly. “I assumed as much.” Then he checked the sun’s angle through the trees. “We should keep moving,” he added quietly. “Someone might be on our trail.”
I nodded, stepping back further. The cold bit at my damp sleeves as we returned to the horses. I didn’t know what exactly I wanted with Baron, but I did know I still couldn’t bear to be without him.
CHAPTER 28
We traveled hard the entire day, the horses’ breaths steaming in the cold air as the miles blurred behind us. How quickly would the sheriff find us? Would he even be able to, without Baron there? He wouldn’t even need to track us. He’d know I would want to free my father, and it was going to be a race to see who made it there first.
Baron guided us steadily northeast. He claimed he knew the general area of the castle, the safest roads, and the fastest paths. I had no choice but to believe him. My jaw tightened at the thought. After everything, I was still forced to trust him.
Dusk fell in slow shades of violet shadows when we finally made camp deep in the forest, where the trees provided plenty of cover from any prying eyes that might pass by. I dismounted stiffly, shoulders knotted with exhaustion. When Baron suggested taking first watch, I cut him off before he finished the sentence.
“I’ll do it.”
“Laurel, you should rest?—”
“I said I’ll do it. I’m not tired.”
He agreed, disappearing into the tent without any more protest. Once he bedded down, I struck flint to kindling. A smallfire caught. Dangerous, perhaps, but necessary. After the cold of the gorge and the relentless ride, I needed warmth as much as I needed clarity. The dense trees muffled out the fire’s glow, and the canopy overhead swallowed the rising smoke. So I let it burn.
Baron’s snores eventually slipped into a rhythm. The sound was steady, untroubled, but every inhale of his seemed to tug at the frayed edges of my thoughts. I wrapped my cloak around myself and scanned the woods with sharp, restless eyes. Nothing moved beyond the ring of firelight. No hooves. No flicker of torchlight. No muttered curses from men who wanted me dead.
Alone at last, the thoughts I’d been outrunning all day surged forward.
I hugged my knees to my chest, glaring into the fire. Why couldn’t life be simple? If only Baron had been a heartless monster that was easy to hate, everything would have been so much easier.
Then there had been that kiss…
I crushed the thought before it could root too deeply, my cheeks heating despite the cold.
Infatuation, I told myself fiercely. That’s all it was. Proximity and desperation. It hadn’t been real.
The lie tasted sour, even when it went unspoken.
I forced myself to look outward again, scanning the stillness for danger. Hours slipped by in a fog. I had half a mind to leave Baron now while he slept and journey on alone. I could take both horses and he would never catch up. But I discarded the notion. Because despite everything, he had saved me. He’d kept me safe for months, cared for me, then freed me knowing it would cost him everything—his standing, his safety, maybe even his life. He’d defied his only family to get me out.
Was I a fool for clinging to the version of Baron I wanted to exist?
I sighed. Before my imprisonment, the world had been sharp-edged and simple. Good and evil. Right and wrong. But now everything felt smudged with gray. Baron was both betrayal and comfort. Both danger and safety. I both hated him and still was desperately in love with him.
In the end, I made myself a promise: I would keep watch, stay alert, and guard my heart with both hands. But I wouldn’t leave him yet. It was easier to track betrayal when the betrayer stayed close.
Baron’s words from months before drifted through my memory: “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”What if Baron was both?
I drew my cloak tighter around my shoulders and kept watch until the stars wheeled overhead.
Once my eyelids began to droop, I went to wake Baron for his turn at the watch. I crouched to duck inside the tent, the canvas brushing my shoulders as I wound my way toward the familiar rhythm of his snores.
“Baron,” I whispered.
Still half-asleep, he reached out for me on instinct, just as he had every night for months, hand searching blindly to pull me to his side. My breath hitched, ridiculous and involuntary, and I stepped back quickly before he could touch me.
“Baron,” I tried again, louder this time.
He startled awake, blinking owlishly, looking around in that fogged, disoriented way people do when dragged too fast out of deep sleep. Then his gaze found mine in the firelit shadows, and I watched as memory dawned…followed by relief.
“I thought you would leave me,” he murmured.
