Instead, he stepped up, closed his hands on her hips, and lifted Nim away, enjoying her outraged gasp as he settled her a few steps further down the road, away from Tor.
“No one is taking you to be hanged. And no one is taking you to Grendel,” he said, giving her a look that would have sent the soldiers under his command running but just made her tip her chin up and narrow her eyes.
He let some of his frustration leak into his voice. “Don’t say it again.”
He turned to look at the squad clustered around them and raised his voice. “Hawks, we have a problem. This is not a democracy. You do what you’re told. And I do what I’m told. But not today. I will not hand this woman back to Lord Grendel.”
“Nim,” Nim said loudly.
He turned to her, annoyed at being interrupted, and glared. “What?”
“I’m not ‘this woman,’ I’m Nim. Val’s sister. Morgan’s daughter. Apothecary. I’m a person.”
Tristan had to work hard not to bark at her in frustration, especially when he turned back to see that his men were now laughing at him instead of Tor.
He ignored them and continued, “I cannot and will not handNimto Grendel. This puts us in direct insubordination of our orders. Anyone who disagrees with this decision is welcome to say so now.”
The men grew serious, each looking around at his brother soldiers. One by one they all met his eyes and dipped their chins. They stood with him.
Tristan turned to Tor. He’d nodded, but Tristan needed the words. “Do you agree?”
“Yes, I agree.” Tor’s voice was strong as he replied. “She can’t go back. I would never, not ever….” He seemed to lose the words, as if remembering Nim’s earlier outburst.
“I think I speak for everyone,” Jeremiel added, purple-blue eyes flashing, “when I say that our duty is to protect, not to harm. None of us would hand an innocent woman over to a monster.” Then he turned to Nim, his purple-blue eyes serious. “You are innocent, aren’t you?”
Her reply was outraged. “Of course!” But then she had to go and add a reluctant, “Except….”
Every single man stiffened, and Tristan took an instinctive step closer to Nim.
She continued softly, “Except if you consider me going to free my brother as a conspiracy to treason. Because you have to know that I don’t plan to just leave him there.”
Fuck. This woman. She was utterly incapable of lying.
Jeremiel nodded, confirming what Tristan already knew, that she was telling the truth. The entire squad relaxed, a few even grinning. Tristan pointedly ignored their knowing looks at how quickly he’d moved to guard her.
“You believe me?” she asked the men hopefully.
“We believe that you are telling the truth,” Tristan answered for them, carefully not adding that she could still be wrong about Val.
“Thank you,” she said softly, a hint of color returning to her cheeks. “So you’ll let me go?”
“Fuck, no.” The words were out before he could stop them, and she whirled around, fists clenched. She opened her mouth for what would no doubt be a vicious analysis of him, his intelligence, and probably his prowess in bed, and he spoke quickly, hoping to explain. “Nim, please, I can’t send you out alone to get hurt!”
“Oh.” Her surprised gasp and sudden look of vulnerability at his words stung. Had she really thought he would just walk away and leave her to fend for herself? Or worse?
Maybe she had. And could he blame her?
“But what about Val?” she asked, looking up at him with those big blue eyes.
“I can’t pretend that I’m convinced of his innocence like you are,” he said, watching as she bristled. He kept going. “But I can concede that there is a chance that not everything was as it appeared.”
“You’ll help me?” she asked tentatively.
“I’m not sure how, but give us a chance to understand what happened. If, and I do mean if, it turns out that Val is innocent, I’ll help you.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He meant it. He wanted proof. Wanted to know that he hadn’t been terribly wrong about what happened at Ravenstone.
