“Didn’t he take a watch?” Tristan asked.
“No, he asked me to swap with him,” Tor admitted.
“Fuck. Okay. Jeremiel, you take lead with Mathos, and bring Reece’s tent with you. You two….” Tristan looked at Jos and Garet. “Please can you keep a good eye out for him from the air? He’s probably lying in a ditch sleeping off a headache, but let’s be certain.”
Tristan turned away, shaking his head and grumbling about soldiers who shirked their watch.
Alanna looked across at Val’s scowl and felt a shaft of deep disappointment that Reece had let his team down so badly. She knew he was struggling, and to a degree she understood. That level of shame and guilt was hard to get past—even though everyone had repeatedly told him Helaine’s betrayal was not his fault.
It was part of why she’d not reported him to Tristan the first time he’d confronted her, knowing that Tristan would have come down on him extremely hard. She’d wanted to give him a bit more time to work through his guilt. That and the fact that if Val had found out, the captain would have been the least of Reece’s worries. But now she wondered whether that hadn’t been a mistake. Maybe she should have said something. Warned Tristan about how bad Reece was getting.
She shrugged it away. It was too late. He was off in the woods, no doubt sleeping off whatever he’d been drinking, and the rest of them needed to pack.
It didn’t take long with everyone working together, and soon they were mounted, covered as best they could be in cloaks of oiled canvas. Alanna was sharing Garet’s stallion, Bayard, with Val. She was sitting in front to make space for his wings and the crossbow he’d strapped to his back, their tent and bedrolls bound tightly and carefully secured behind him.
They would take turns walking to keep from exhausting the beautiful destrier. He was used to carrying a man in full armor, but two people and all their gear was still a lot, especially in the steady drizzle.
Tristan shouted for them to move out, and their procession wound its way forward under the dripping leaves along the narrow path.
Val was warm and relaxed behind her, the woods were a vibrant palette of greens and golds and oranges, hushed in the softly pattering rain that fell around them like mist, and their friends were all around them.
She had never felt such belonging or such deep joy, and she almost wanted the journey to pass slowly.
Almost, but not entirely. She couldn’t wait to get to the temple, to make her arrangements, and to spend the rest of her life with Val.
Chapter Fourteen
Val castan eye up to the heavy clouds lurking ominously over the woods. He and Alanna were walking together, leading Bayard behind them through the dripping trees as they followed Mathos and Jeremiel. They had been traveling for nearly two hours already, and the rain had become, if anything, heavier and colder.
Thank the gods they couldn’t be more than another half hour away from the Eshcol Temple Complex and a dry place to rest. Even staying in a dormitory sounded like heaven after so many days in tents and before that… well, that was over.
He couldn’t help the slightly stunned grin that kept spreading over his face despite the cold rain. Alanna was holding his hand.
Holding his fucking hand.
Occasionally a slight flush would tinge her cheeks in a way that made him think she was remembering their night together. And the morning. Gods. He would never forget it, however long he lived.
She looked up at him, swathed in oilcloth, mud splattering her boots up to her knees, raindrops sparkling along the golden braid she had thrown carelessly over her shoulder, and gave him a dazzling smile.
She looked so beautiful that he couldn’t resist leaning down to drop a quick kiss on her mouth, loving how she hummed in joy and approval.
They walked forward a few more steps, only to skid to a shocked halt as Jos crashed onto the path in front of Mathos in a flurry of splashing mud and rain.
Jos pulled his dripping wings in, calling down to Tristan. “They’re here, Captain, fuck!”
The line crushed in as they all surrounded Jos, his face stark and haggard under his rain-slicked hair, and Val pulled Alanna in tight against his body, holding her safe.
“Report.” Tristan’s voice was calm and firm, but Val saw the look he gave Nim. The look of a man who knew what it was to almost lose the woman who meant everything.
Jos spread his legs, clasped his hands behind his back, and calmed his voice. “Garet and I have been flying spirals, one of us over the woods and one of us down the main road, taking short breaks and then swapping over. For the last twenty minutes, I’ve had the West Way. Visibility is almost nothing, but I thought I’d do an extra mile or two to check our access into the temple. And I saw… fuck… he’s here. Ballanor.”
“How many?” Val asked, wrapping his wing over Alanna as if that might protect her, his voice sounding hollow and flat even to his own ears.
Jos’s mouth twisted grimly. “At least three companies of mounted palace guards. Coming fast. Every few minutes, a quad of guards peels off into the woods to track from behind. There’s no way back.”
Garet landed heavily beside them as Jos finished, wings trembling as he panted out, “Right behind us.”
Mathos was almost entirely covered in shimmering burgundy scales as his beast responded to the threat. “Can we outrun them? Make it to the temple?”
