“That’ll be them,” Ruairc stated. “No sensible traveler would camp so close to the mountain pass. If I tell you to stay with the horse—”
“You know very well I will not.”
He huffed. Without further pressing, he dismounted and came to Sorrel’s side, offering me his hands. Swinging my legs to one side—something I was becoming a bit less clumsy at—I took his hold and hopped down, landing roughly on the packed earth.
A pang ached at my heart as I considered each of the times I’d dismounted with Neirin. My stubbornness, the way he stood close enough that my body pressed against his, the way his hands held me at my waist. This had to work. There was no alternative. Neirin brought me laughter, frustration, tears, and love. Each time he looked at me it was as if no other woman existed. He made me feel beautiful. And beyond that, he made me feel confident, bold, and empowered.
“If these men catch us …” Ruairc said, his face near to mine as he stood before me, my hands still loosely in his. He swallowed.
“I know.” There was, in general, little honor among huntsmen. They worked parallel to the law, making their own rules as opportunities presented themselves. Most were known to have few morals, and I … I was just a woman to them, something to be used. Ruairc was a man with a sword. If he drew it, they would not hesitate to take his life and leave him where he lay.
“Then do not let them catch you,” he said.
The depth in his eyes held the faintest flicker of yearning. Though our closeness was something I gave as little thoughtto as I would being close to Leighis or my brother, my heart fumbled at the realization that Ruairc’s feelings were not the same. In the stillness of the moment, I almost stood to my toes and kissed him, just to give him that, to show him I appreciated all of this. But I couldn’t. Something had changed within me. A kiss was no longer something light to be given. Sighing, I wrapped my arms around his back and hugged him, taking his warmth and comfort and giving him mine.
Though he was stiff for a moment, he relaxed against me and held me close, cradling my head in one of his hands. His breath was warm against my ear where he rested his head atop mine. Should I echo his words, they would be lost on the wind. Ruairc would not lay his sword down and flee, not if he believed his resistance could buy me a chance at escape. So instead, I nuzzled against his chest and breathed in the scent of him. He smelled of childhood, of playing in his shop beneath the workshop table, whittling little figurines using sharp flakes of rocks we found in the woods.
“Thank you,” I said. The words weren’t enough.
He sighed into my hair, then his arms left me and he stepped back. When he turned his attention to the glow of light in the field, I swallowed the knot in my throat and reached for the peridot at my neck to clasp it as I’d done so many times before.
“Ruairc,” I rasped, panicking and heat rushing through my veins as my fingers found only the shorter necklace Neirin gave me, and not the green stone that hung to the dip of my breasts. “My necklace—” I swallowed. “Leighis gave it to me.”
Brows pulled in slightly, Ruairc looked back to the trail behind us. The clasp could have broken at any point along the road. I pushed down the feeling of loss of something I’d so long held dear to me, held as a comfort. I inhaled briskly and trailed my fingers higher, to the shifting stones along the chain Neiringave me. It brought back memories of his touch as he brushed my hair aside and placed it around my neck.
Ruairc only studied me, as if knowing I needed a moment to gather my thoughts and rationalize my priorities.
When I did, I met his gaze. “Let’s go.”
Leaving the horses behind, we approached the huntsmen’s camp on foot, keeping to the shadows of the occasional tree or higher-growing brush.I took each step lightly, testing before I set my weight, to avoid snapping twigs and drawing attention. Ruairc, too, moved quietly despite his larger figure.
I paused beside Ruairc, tucked behind a stone outcrop that backed up to a section of closely growing trees. I allowed myself a breath. As Ruairc had predicted, the huntsmen were drinking from tankards. One of the men went to the edge of the clearing and refilled his drink from an open-topped barrel, small enough to be strapped to the back of a saddle when sealed.
Swallowing my nerves, I withdrew the vials of mandrake and opium from my satchel, the glass container smooth beneath the shaking stroke of my thumb.
When the man rejoined the others, Ruairc nodded to me. I removed the corked seal on my vial in preparation and made my way closer to the barrel, keeping low among the bushes. My heart thundered in my chest even as I knelt, concealed by the undergrowth. Through the brambles, I could make out two forms strapped to a freestanding oak a short distance up a slope. Both figures remained motionless. Through the bond, I caught no notable trace of emotions from Neirin.
He is fine. He has to be. They both will be fine.
Motion from the campfire drew my eyes up, and I lowered myself further amid the tall grass. The eldest of the huntsmen approached, tankard in hand, talking over his shoulder. Already, he was intoxicated if his slur indicated anything. The tincture would work quickly, then.
I poured the contents of the vial into the barrel, then crept backward into the shadows. Ruairc’s hand came to my waist as I reached him, friendly this time and perhaps a bit protective. Heart pounding, nerves consuming me, I allowed myself to take comfort in his touch as the huntsman dipped his tankard into the barrel, then retreated to the fire. Finally, I breathed.
“Evera.” Ruairc’s hushed voice drew my eyes from the makeshift camp. From his overcoat, he withdrew my dagger, wrapped in cloth as it had been before. “Lark— Neirin would say you should be able to defend yourself.”
My blood ran cold, thoughts of the night of Mother’s death returning to me. “What would you say?” I asked, eyes wide and focused on the blade.
“To stay back at the shop with your brother,” Ruairc quipped, a glint of amusement in his honey-brown eyes. “But I would be wrong. So instead, I will tell you to break what I have wrongly fixed.”
I frowned.
“The dagger.” He offered it again, and this time I took it, examining its sharp edges. “Use it well. Make it yours again.”
“Embrace the broken?”
“Yes, Evera.”Ever-ah.He smiled, though his eyes remained sad.“Embrace the broken.”
The night wore on slowly.My boots were too stiff, and a cold breeze caught at my ankles and made its way beneath my skirts, raising gooseflesh on my legs. Two of the huntsmen had come to dip their drinks, and both now slept soundly, their headspropped on rolled-up travel blankets. Nox, however, had not come to fill his drink. He sat with his back to us, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed.
