They were moving even before Tristan had finished the command. Mathos led the way, Tristan and Nim behind him, Val and Alanna immediately behind them, and then him and Keely riding together.
The path branched, and Alanna swerved left, splitting the group, and Tor followed her. Far better to separate and give the horses space to run. But they were still too close, the path they’d chosen too narrow, too slick with mud and dangerous with roots and branches, for all of them. The horses were frightening each other, vying for space, and they could so easily lose their footing and then all of them would be lost.
Keely saw the danger at the same time as he did. Seconds later, she flung her arm out, pointing to an overgrown animal track branching away from the path they were on, and he pulled hard on the reins, forcing Perseus to turn a sharp left.
Low branches, brambles, and twining vines riddled the cramped path. The woods pressed in so close that Perseus had to force himself through the tiny gap, his mad gallop soon slowing to barely more than a trot as he fought the mud and the forest.
Tor gripped the reins, his concentration split between Keely bent low over Perseus in front of him and the rest of the squad somewhere behind.
Hoofbeats thudded away from them as whistles cut the air, horses neighed and men shouted. There was an exultant howl far to the right, and he had to grit his teeth, forcing himself to hold their course. Someone had been captured, but it wouldn’t do them any good to turn back. Whoever was caught needed them to stay free, to get away. And to live to come back and rescue them.
The path ahead curved further west, away from the temple, and they followed it down a rocky embankment into deeper thickets. He pushed Perseus onward as the ancient trees grew even closer, blocking the light, and the noise of their hunters faded away behind them.
Slowly the rain eased and birds began to sing, calling to each other through the dense foliage as they fled onward.
An hour passed, maybe more, before Tor allowed himself to believe that they were safe. He hadn’t heard anything other than birdsong and the thud of Perseus’s hooves for long enough to feel certain that no one had followed them onto the almost invisible path. And by now the heavy rain would have helped to wash away their tracks.
Keely had been bent over Perseus during their initial flight, but now he realized she wasn’t even watching where they were going. Her head was bowed, lost in the swathes of her oilskin, and she was utterly quiet.
Keely, who had a comment about everything, whose wry observations about the people and places around her regularly had the Hawks chuckling, who sang to herself constantly… was silent.
“Whoa.” He pulled at Perseus’s bridle and brought him to a stop.
If anything, the movement made her hunch even deeper into her cloak. Gods. Had he missed another arrow? Or perhaps she’d opened her wound? Fuck. He should have been paying more attention.
“Keely? Are you hurt?” he asked softly.
She flinched, but she didn’t turn.
“Keely, look at me. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” It was a whisper, almost too low to hear, but full of agony.
“Keely, if you don’t look at me right now, I swear to the gods, I will lift you off Perseus and check you for myself.”
She turned her head away, muttering, “Fuck you, Tor.”
That was it. The adrenaline-fueled flight through the woods, his fierce need to protect her, the horrifying idea that she was wounded, all combined into one driving necessity.
He slid down and flung Perseus’s reins over a nearby branch, then he flicked Keely’s foot out of the stirrup, grabbing hold of her thigh with his other hand in case she decided to kick, and pulled.
She slid sharply to the side with a muffled screech of rage, but he was already lifting her. He swung her around into his arms, gripping her tightly with one arm around her back and the other under her knees, holding her against his chest, and strode up the narrow path.
She writhed and twisted, trying to break free, spitting some of the worst curses he’d ever heard. She was a strong, lithe woman used to hard work and exercise, but he was heavily muscled, even by Apollyon standards. He was much stronger than her, his arms easily the size of her thighs. He could have stood there all day without breaking a sweat while she flung herself at him.
Finally, she quietened and looked at him. Gods. It was far worse than he had imagined. The misery in her eyes nearly achieved what all her twisting had not—he nearly dropped her.
He had never once seen her cry, not even when they pulled the arrow from her shoulder, and she still held on to her tears even now. But her face was twisted into a mask of grief, her eyes suspiciously wet as she fought to hold in her emotion.
“Keely, gods, please tell me what’s going on.”
“Alanna.” The word was so quiet that if he hadn’t been holding her against his chest, he wouldn’t have heard it. “She finally had her dream. She had Val. Did you see her this morning? She was so excited.”
“Keely….” Fuck. He didn’t know what to say.
“And I left her. Again.”
He stepped them sideways until he could gently lower her into the fork of a huge spreading beech tree, freeing his hands to cup her cheeks and tilt her face up toward his. “No, Keely, we didn’t leave her. We stayed safe so that we can get back to rescue them. It was the right decision. You know it, and I know it.”
