“Yes, Princess?”
“I’m really sorry that I was so rude to you the first time we met. I didn’t understand....”
Gods. She was killing him.
He squeezed her side and tried not to think about how softly curved she was under that thick cloak. “And I’m sorry that I was such a grumpy ass who left out a pile of information you needed to know. But let’s wait until we’re out of here to talk about all of this, yes?”
“I just wanted….” She let her whisper fade away. But he knew. She was terrified that they would be caught, and she wanted to make things right.
He tightened his grip around her waist and forced himself to grin. “We’re not quite ready for deathbed apologies yet. We have to be quiet now, but you can use this time wisely. Compose something truly heart-wrenching for later, okay?”
She snorted against his chest but relaxed slightly.
Inside him, his beast huffed and settled in his belly. The beast only wanted one thing—Lucilla safe. No, if he was honest, there was a second thing—her in his arms. But he wasn’t going to think about that.
The minutes passed slowly. The clouds grew heavy and low, and then a steady rain started to fall.
It tapped a rhythm on the bare trees above them and the thick carpet of leaves around them. Lucilla was mostly covered by the tree trunk and his body, but Mathos could feel the cold drops sliding down his exposed arm and quietly soaking his dirty breeches and tattered shirt.
It was as uncomfortable as hell, but it was a godsend. He would gladly stay cold and wet while the rain washed away their trail.
Eventually, the rain stopped, but the clouds stayed dark and ominous. A deep chill penetrated his bones as the hours crept past.
All through the day, they heard soldiers. Sometimes on horseback, sometimes on foot. Twice, soldiers went off the path, beating the bushes and calling for the queen. One even came within a few feet of their tree trunk. But thankfully, after a long, terrifying pause, he walked away, calling out to his squad.
Lucilla fell asleep soon after that, the intense fear and exhaustion suddenly too much for her. He held her as she snored gently, her chest rising and falling against him, as he kept watch.
By the time the sun began to set, Mathos was freezing everywhere except in his shoulder, which felt like it was on fire. His whole body had stiffened during the long day of holding himself still, but they had to get moving.
He gave her a small shake and murmured, “Wake up, Princess.”
She half-opened her eyes and turned her face to look blearily up at him.
“You’ve had enough beauty sleep. The soldiers are gone for now, and it’s time to go.”
She blinked a few times and then looked him up and down before replying in a rough voice, “And you look like you haven’t had any at all.”
Mathos’s chuckle turned into a groan as he rolled out of their small hollow. His shoulder throbbed, but there was nothing he could do about it other than press on.
He forced himself onto his feet and gave the gloomy woods around them a long, slow sweep.
Walking as quietly as they could, they went back through the trees to the path, now a muddy, churned-up mess, but instead of following it, he cut across the forest, traveling as near to due west as he could guess in the dark.
It was hard going. Slogging through the heavy carpet of leaves and mud from the earlier rain, constantly having to avoid fallen branches that were almost impossible to see in the increasing darkness—even with his beast’s help—while brambles snagged their clothes and scratched their skin.
It was a relief to reach the road, even though it was by far the most dangerous part of their journey. They paused under the trees, and Mathos strained to listen to every noise, every crackle of leaves, every beat of wings as owls and bats hunted and night birds called.
He didn’t hear or see anything out of place, but then he hadn’t realized that Dornar had blocked every road north before, either.
Eventually, he decided they should risk moving, and he led Lucilla along the edge of the forest, staying deep in the shadows until he found a shallow dip in the road. The kind of dip that would be very difficult to see from a distance, particularly in the dark, but one that gave them some slight hope of not having their silhouettes stand out against the sky like two huge arrows directing Dornar straight to them.
He tilted his head toward the dip. “We have to crawl. I suggest lying down on your belly, as flat as you can, and using your toes and elbows to help you wriggle across.”
She looked at him and then back at the road, her shoulders hunched and her hands gripped tightly at her waist. “It’s time to cross?” she asked uncertainly.
He knew her now. This was not a woman behaving like a spoiled princess or refusing to crawl—she had saved a spider and then spent the day lying in the mud without complaining—but it was dangerous standing around on the road, and he wanted to get across. He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”
Lucilla took a slow breath and then turned to face him properly as she murmured, “I’m sorry, I know we have to leave Penelope and Heracles, but this is the first time it’s felt real. She’s the only friend I’ve had, and this is the moment that I truly leave her behind.” She gave him a small half-smile. “I’m ready now.”
