“You are stubborn,” I told her.
“I know.” Her remark was small and apologetic.
I huffed a breath. “Being capable doesn’t mean trying things before you’re ready. It means you have the willingness and intellect to learn something properly, even if it takes time.”
Evera groaned and braced herself, balancing despite the slope so that she sat straight again. I shook my head, defeated, yet when she glanced at me once more, her expression had softened.
“Thank you,” she said, the words genuine. “For letting me try.”
Grunting, I tugged Sorrel forward by the reins until the mare stood on solid ground. “No more ramps.”
“No more ramps,” Evera agreed. “Today.”
Shaking my head, I returned the reins to her, and when she urged Sorrel on, I fell in step alongside them, Calix following just behind.
Fields lined the side of the dirt path, and peasants tilled the earth, preparing it for a crop. Across the river, a group on horseback rode into town, the stallions all a dark chestnut color. The men atop them wore black.
Quickening his steps, Calix came to walk beside me and gestured subtly with a nod of his head. “A guard, at the front.”
The lead stallion bore a saddle blanket embellished with silver; it dipped around its neck with decorative tassels. Only mounts owned by men of the castle guard were decorated with such garb. At this distance, I couldn’t make out the rider’s face, but unease sent gooseflesh sweeping across my skin all the same.
“They will not come this way,” I reasoned to myself aloud. “They will check into the inn and get drunk. They’ll start their rounds in the morning.”
“Should I return to the inn and listen in?”
“No.” I caught Evera’s sideways glance at us. “The guard may recognize you.”
“This is the last stop,” Evera said, tone flat, offering out a small burlap sack secured with a leather cord. Tied into the bow, a paper hung with details of the order, the scribbling elegant, curled almost.
“I will answer any questions you may have,” I promised, tucking the package under my arm and taking her hand. “It is not my intention nor my plan to be evasive with you.” I would not make excuses to myself anymore for withholding information from her, not when the bond that connected us held me to her so irrefutably. Not when the dejection on her face betrayed the effects of how many in her past had kept things from her.
My heart pounded in my chest, and my mouth went dry as I resisted saying things that I knew were much too soon to say. To tell her I trusted her, that despite the newness of this, I resonated with her. My thoughts went to the huntsman and the unknown of what may follow upon his return. The uncertainty of all that hung around us. No, it was too soon to admit how deeply I cared for her, not when it held such potential for hurting us both. Not when I’d yet to even earn her name.
A child’s scream broke the calm of the countryside. Evera and I turned our heads in unison. One of the farm children, a girl of five or so, lay on the ground clutching her arm.Tears streamed down the girl’s cheeks, and from the nearest farmhouse a woman ran to her side.
Without hesitation, Evera leaned forward and swung her leg over Sorrel’s rump. I reflexively placed a hand at her waist to help ease her down, though the dismount was anything but graceful.The moment her boots hit the ground, she left my side, bunching her skirts to raise them off the ground and hurrying to the child.
“Neirin.” Calix’s steady voice bore a warning.
“I know,” I said, handing him the reins. “Stay with the mare.”
Kneeling beside Evera, I sucked in a breath and scanned the surrounding area. Several men in the fields had stopped their tasks and were watching, but none made any immediate move to interfere, even as Evera began evaluating the child. Biting back a curse at the attention drawn to us, I held my ground, my heart catching, my emotions conflicted with instinct and knowledge. Every muscle bunched, strained. Instinct told me to defend my mate, to take her away from here before conflict arose. Yet in doing so, I knew I would shatter her trust and her soul.
A young girl spoke frantically, explaining the child’s fall. “I swear, Mama, she tripped. I didn’t push her.”
“Run and get the healer, Lenna,” the woman responded.
The girl nodded, eyes wide, and left us.
“It’s dislocated,” Evera announced, her voice ringing with calm confidence. “I’m going to set it.”
The child’s mother opened her mouth as if to object, but shut it again. Her gaze rose, and I followed it. A man dressed in a worker’s clothing set toward us with long strides. Just behind him, three young men followed, exchanging uneasy expressions.
“Whatever you are going to do, do it quickly.” Urgency laced my voice. Capable as I believed Evera to be, the world claimed this was not her place. My hand went to the pommel of my borrowed sword and trembled. If this were to lead to my capture, what would happen to Harlan? And what of Evera? She could not be jailed for accusations alone, yet the men’s expressions told me that imprisonment was not the height of my concerns. The men’s quick reactions told me Evera had already created a reputation for herself, and that brought with it a level of danger I could not calculate. The steadfast sister of the town’s apothecary who meddled with tinctures and medicine, who refused to marry, who stood out because of her candor and beliefs—she’d unintentionally painted herself a target andturned what would have otherwise been mere gossip into weighty, believable fact.
“Hold her still,” Evera instructed.
The child lay flat on her back, squirming and screaming, her waves of fair blond hair tangled with clumps of dirt and plant debris.
