“Is that what happened to you?” she asked softly.
His fingers tightened on her face, and she heard a deep unhappy rumble that he didn’t seem to notice. But then he shook his head slightly and gave her his usual lopsided smile. “Nah. Who would make me responsible for anything?”
He dropped his hands and turned to walk away, but she knew the truth. Someone had hurt him, badly. So badly that he couldn’t even see that he was responsible—deeply so—to her, to the Hawks, to the people of Brythoria.
She walked quietly beside him, giving him the space that he needed.
A low sound began to grow in the distance. At first, it was a soothing whisper, just on the edge of her hearing, but as it grew louder around them, she realized that it was the rush of fast-flowing water. They were getting close to the river that Mathos had told her about that first day. Gods, that felt a long time ago.
“Are we going to cross it?” she asked.
Mathos looked back over his shoulder. “Not unless we have to. My plan is for us to follow it south. Darant, the port town I told you about, grew up around where the river meets the sea. With a bit of luck, we can find a trading ship that will take us up the western coast toward Glevum. We can buy horses and make our way to—”
He stopped midsentence, holding his hand out toward her as if to stop her or push her back, and she froze. His Tarasque hearing was much better than hers.
They stood silently together as slow moments ticked past. But nothing happened.
Eventually, she leaned forward to murmur beside his ear, “What is it?”
He gave a slight shake of his head, his eyes slowly scanning the dark woods around them.
After another long sweep, he gestured for them to move forward once more. This time in total silence.
The muted roar of the water grew steadily, filling the air as their tiny path met a much more defined track running parallel to the river. White foam glowed as the Derrow churned against the rocks, and she could feel the cold spray on her face.
The track was wide enough that they could walk side by side, but Mathos signaled for her to stay just behind his shoulder, always in the darkest part of the path.
They moved quickly, and every drop of her concentration was focused on avoiding the rutted holes and twisted roots of trees trying to reach the water. They left the rapids behind and the roar softened to a constant murmur as the water ran fast and deep beside them.
She was looking down, and not in front of her, when Mathos suddenly stopped. She didn’t have enough time to stop, would have fallen, but he reached behind his back and grabbed her, holding her safely, close to his side.
There was a thump behind her, and Mathos spun, keeping her tucked under his arm.
A Blue stood on the path behind them, busy straightening from a crouch, sword in hand. As if he had just leaped from one of the nearby trees.
There was another thump, this time from the path ahead, and Mathos spun again. It was another Blue Guard, and he was slowly raising his crossbow. He looked young, too young to be standing there with their lives in his hands, but he held the crossbow in a firm grip as he watched them.
Mathos immediately pushed her toward the dense bush beside them. “Run. Run now.”
But she couldn’t do it. The only thing stopping Mathos from being shot was the risk that she would get caught in the middle. She dug her heels in, refusing to budge.
“Lucilla.” His voice was a deep rumble. Almost a growl.
She ignored it and stepped in front of him, pushing her back against his chest. “If you shoot,” she called loudly against the rushing burble of the river, “you’ll kill us both.”
The first man whistled loudly, the sound piercing behind them. A whistle answered, maybe a mile away. And then another. Gods, there were soldiers up and down the track and spread out through the forest.
She felt Mathos grow completely still behind her. They both knew that running was not an option.
He leaned down, his lips against her ear. “Can you swim?”
She dipped her head a fraction. She had learned to swim in the pond outside the manor house, but the last time she’d tried was more than a decade ago.
“Do you trust me?”
That was easier. She nodded more firmly. And immediately found herself being lifted into his arms.
He cradled her against his chest, and for the first time in her life, there in the darkness, surrounded by men with weapons, she felt protected.
