He reached into the wagon and lifted Rosie into his arms, spinning her as Roman had spun me.
Her laughter rang through the air, pure and bright.
I pressed my hand to my stomach, feeling the life inside me.
This time, I would do everything I could to bring this child to term.
This time, no one would take them from me.
***
Three months later, with my belly beginning to swell and Emily looking like she might pop at any moment, we finally arrived in Wales.
The journey had been slow, grueling, and unforgiving.
Winter had descended upon us, and though Count Montego had outfitted us in heavy weather gear during our stop in Paris, nothing could fully prepare us for the relentless cold.
The horses strained against the elements, their powerful bodies forging through snowdrifts nearly up to their bellies.
Other times, the ground turned to a thick, soupy mess of mud, wheels sinking deep, hooves slipping.
We had made camp wherever we could—sometimes huddled in small villages, grateful for the shelter, and other times taking refuge against rocky ledges, praying the storm would pass.
Once, we had been forced to cross a raging river, the water surging so violently it nearly carried away one of the wagons.
I had never been more grateful for our sturdy, loyal steeds.
We were all exhausted.
All we wanted was to stop.
To be in one place.
To settle.
Yet, despite the hardships, something had shifted in the months of endless travel.
We had become a family.
A strange, unlikely family—bound not by blood but by shared struggle, whispered conversations in the dead of night, stolen moments of laughter amid the cold and hunger.
For five months, we had seen no sign of Costa or Balthazar.
No ambushes in the night.
No shadows creeping toward us.
It had been a blessing to travel without fear clawing at our backs.
But I knew better than to believe peace could last forever.
Still, for now, I had begged to ride instead of being trapped in the wagon.
And now, drenched to the bone, freezing, miserable, I longed for the warmth of the covered buggy.
Malik rode beside me, his horse moving easily through the slogging downpour.
Raindrops slid off the brim of his weathered leather hat, his gloved hands steady on the reins.
