And yet—I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
I softened my tone. “We’re no longer in your twenty-first century, my love.”
My fingers brushed over her arms.
“Which means I can and will assume my role as your protector. Many men in your century would turn and tuck their tails rather than face the challenges of sixteenth-century Europe. I am not that kind ofman.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her arms crossing even tighter over her chest.
“Fine.” Her tone was clipped. “I’ll stay home with the women and children.”
A smirk tugged at my lips.
“Well, you are a woman. And you are with child. So that makes sense.”
The pillow she hurled at my head came fast.
I barely ducked in time, grinning as I slipped out of the bedroom before she could throw something heavier.
Out in the snow-covered yard, Malik, Marcellious, and I stood beside our horses, surrounded by a pale, lifeless world absent of color.
The horses shifted restlessly, their breath billowing into the cold air in thick white clouds.
Malik wordlessly handed Marcellious and me a torch—wooden shafts wrapped in oil-soaked rags.
I gripped mine, watching the flames roar to life, their flickering glow battling against the weak, overcast daylight.
Malik kept one for himself.
With one last glance back toward the estate, we mounted our horses and set off for the caves.
Although the storm had passed, a bitter wind still sliced through the air, lifting the snow in swirling drifts.
A weak sun struggled to punch through the thick gray clouds, its feeble light barely warming our frozen world.
I pulled my woolen scarf higher over my nose and mouth, relishing its barrier against the biting cold.
The horses trudged through the deep snow, their hooves sinking into the unseen, treacherous ground beneath.
At last, we reached the cavern.
Dismounting, we ground-tied our steeds near the entrance. Then, torches in hand, we stepped into the darkness.
The flickering flames cast long, eerie shadows across the stone walls, pockmarked as if by a giant’s thumb. A damp, earthy scent clung to the air, mingling with the steady water drip from the ceiling, trickling down jagged rock formations.
Ahead, several archways loomed.
“Let’s each take a tunnel to explore,” I said, forcing confidence into my voice. In truth, I had never navigated a cave system and had no idea what I was doing. But we could regroup with a plan if we assessed the terrain separately.
“Good idea,” Marcellious agreed.
I veered toward the rightmost archway. The moment I stepped forward, my foot slipped on the slick stone. Catching myself, I moved cautiously deeper into the cavern.
Stalactites hung from the ceiling like brown icicles, while jagged stalagmites jutted upward in defiant opposition—a mesmerizing display of nature’s relentless artistry.
Then, I rounded a bend and stopped short.
The tunnel dropped straight down. It was a sheer descent, impossible to navigate without ropes and climbing gear. I wasn’t sure this problem had a solution in 16th-century Europe.
