“Maybe.”
Maybe. The worst word in the universe. Fuck.
Tristan raised his voice, his face harsh and set. “Alanna and Keely on the horses, Mabin in the air. Dead run. MOVE OUT!”
They didn’t hesitate. Val flung Alanna up onto Bayard and himself into the air above her as she kicked the stallion into a run.
Mathos led the way, with Tristan immediately behind, Nim in the air above him. Everything was a chaos of mud and hooves as the rain poured down in heavy sheets and Val’s soaking wings shuddered under the strain of staying low and dodging trees while still keeping up with Alanna on the galloping destrier.
The paths forked and she pulled hard to the left, trying to create space to move as the other riders peeled right, and he banked sharply to follow her.
He heard a shout from the rear. Fuck. Fuck. The quads were on their trail. And they were close.
He pushed harder, following Alanna. She was bent completely over, thighs bunching as Bayard leaped beneath her, the ground rising steeply now, speeding up the narrow path as if demons were behind her. And they were.
Everyone was spread out, following different paths, trying to keep out of each other’s way as they galloped along increasingly arduous paths through the dark forest. Branches whipped at him, and he almost caught himself in a bramble, but he flung himself to the side just in time.
When he raised himself above the trees, he could see the sheer walls of the temple through the sheets of rain, rising dark red in the distance. They were so very close. It was almost possible. But the shouts and trumpet calls were even closer.
And then Bayard stumbled.
It unfolded in slow motion. Like a nightmare. The massive horse tripped on a leaf-covered root and lurched forward, almost righted himself, but then crashed to his knees in a spray of mud and autumn leaves.
Alanna held firmly through the first lurch, and then as Bayard smashed into the ground, she kicked her feet free of the stirrups and leaped, tucking as she fell to roll into a sodden mass on the side of the path.
Val was with her in seconds, landing beside her just as she pushed up to her knees, groaning. He pulled her into his arms, frantically checking her for injuries. She’d fallen well, shoulder first, but she’d be badly bruised, and she whimpered softly.
“Gods. Lanni, love, are you okay?”
She nodded against his chest, but he could feel her trembling. So vulnerable in his arms. So easily hurt.
Bayard had risen to his feet and was shivering beside the path. His nearside foreleg was tipped up onto its hoof, his powerful head dipped. There was no way he could carry anyone.
Behind them, through the trees, he could hear the drum of hooves, the shouting squads of Palace Guards. They were only minutes away.
There was only one terrible option left.
He held her against his chest, just for a second. One last impossible second. He kissed her, hard, and then he let her go.
He settled her onto her knees in front of him, and then, pulling a knife from his belt, he lifted her braid, and raised his eyebrow. She stared back at him, confused but completely trusting, and nodded.
His throat ached with tension as the sharp blade slid through the golden strands and the heavy braid came away in his hands.
She watched him, her hair curling around her face in damp wisps, green eyes wide, and his throat tightened further until he felt as if he might never draw a full breath again.
He stumbled to his feet and ran to Bayard. Working as fast as he could in the wet, he tied the trailing reins to his belt, and then he used the blade to cut through the ropes securing their tent canvas until he held it bundled in his arms. “Give me your cloak.”
She stood and ripped off the gray woolen cloak, and he swathed it around the bundle in his arms, finally tucking her braid into the side so that it gleamed against the dark canvas. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all he could do.
“Up.” He flicked his chin to the tree. “As high as you can. And don’t move.”
“No.” She shook her head frantically and clutched his arm. “I don’t want to. Please, Val,” she whispered as tears spilled down her cheeks, mingling with the rain.
His voice was a jagged rasp as he forced it past the tormented howl trying to rise through his chest. “Alanna, I love you. I was never able to protect you before. But now I can. Give me this.”
“No. Please.” She was weeping brokenly, gasping for air over her hiccoughing sobs, and he longed to take her in his arms one more time. But he couldn’t put down the precious decoy.
He kissed her. Once on her mouth, once on her forehead. And then he stepped back and firmed his voice. “I love you. Do it now.”
