“Do you want to see Keely first or go and say hello to Alanna and Val?”
“Keely.”
Jos dipped his chin. “Good.” He swept his hand back, gesturing up the drive. “Come on then.”
Tor slid from his horse, and they walked together up the rough drive.
“You didn’t push on to the border,” Tor noted. Staith wasn’t that far behind them. In fact, he’d expected them to be quite a bit further up the road already.
It was Jos’s turn to shrug. “We’ve been taking the whole trip pretty easy. Alanna’s orders. She wanted everyone to get a good rest before the last push up to the passes.”
They reached a series of tumbledown outbuildings, ripe with the stink of chickens and noisy with their clucking, leading up to a house that was far more ramshackle than he’d expected. The front wall was caved in at one side, and the roof sagging heavily. But it was no doubt significantly dryer and more comfortable than the spiky hawthorn hedges he’d been sleeping under.
Jos pointed out a narrow path that wound between the buildings, then up toward the hills behind them. “She went for a walk. You’ll find her up there.”
Tor frowned at his friend. Didn’t he know about the danger? “You let her walk alone?”
Jos huffed out an exasperated breath as he tilted his head toward the far side of the farmhouse. “Two guards had their eyes on her the whole time, plus I was in the air.” He paused for a moment and then grinned. “And I’m not sure I’d use the word ‘let’ around Keely.”
“Hmmm.” Maybe. She loved walking up in those high places, but now he was here she’d have better security to do it.
He stood, looking at the path. She was only a few minutes away. After so much desperate effort to reach her, it suddenly seemed impossible to take that last step.
Jos gave him an understanding look. “Pass me the reins and go and see her—she’ll want to see you, I promise.” And then he snorted. “Just, maybe, take a weapon.”
Definitely not; a weapon would only give her ideas. Thicker armor, maybe?
Tor clapped Jos on the shoulder in thanks and then handed him the horse’s reins. He made his way past the chicken shed and then onto a narrow, rocky path that led steeply up the first of a series of hills leading to the mountains. He stepped over a particularly rutted channel, and then looked up.
She was standing further along the path toward the top of the first hill, close enough that she would hear him if he shouted, but too far away for him to read the look on her face. She had seen him, was looking right at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to call out.
He’d spent long hours in the saddle planning all the things he would say to her, but now he couldn’t remember any of them.
He wanted to run to her, grab her, hold her against him. But he didn’t want to frighten her away. Didn’t know how she felt about seeing him again after he’d refused to travel with her. After she’d decided to stay in Verturia.
She had asked him to come with her. That must mean something. Surely? Or had their time apart reminded her that she didn’t want to be with a soldier? Had she realized how little he could offer her? He was about to find out.
Small stones clattered away behind him down the steep path as he strode up the hill toward her.
Gods, she was stunning. Her red-gold hair was fiery in the early morning sunshine and her back was straight, chin up, shoulders squared. She looked ready for battle—or flight. He had no idea which. He only knew that nothing could stop him from going to her.
And then she started to walk. Toward him. Not away, thank the gods. She slid on the rough stones, speeding up and he broke into a rough jog, taking the last few yards even faster.
He opened his arms, and she ran into them. Gods. He was holding her, wrapped up against him, in a way he’d thought he’d lost forever. She was warm, and alive, and embracing him so tightly he could feel her entire body pressed against his. Her arms around his waist, her head tucked under his chin, the soft scent of heather surrounding them.
“You came.” Her voice was rough and strained against his chest. And then she shuddered, drew in a shaking breath, and shuddered again. And he realized she was crying. His warrior was weeping helplessly in his arms.
All the feelings he’d been pushing away so successfully threatened to overwhelm him. His guilt and fear, the hope that had kept him going hour after hour.
He fought for control as he swung her up, cradling her in his arms, and strode up the rest of the path before lowering himself to the ground, holding her safely in his lap while he leaned against a large rock.
So much like he’d held her that day. And yet so different.
He pulled his gloves off, needing to touch her, and stroked her hair while her muffled sobs slowly subsided. Eventually, she leaned back, her face puffy and red, her eyes bloodshot, nose swollen. She was utterly beautiful.
“You were right,” he admitted softly. “I was trying to find myself again. So much of what I’d believed turned out to be a lie. But, Keely, I do know that I want to be with you. I do choose you.”
She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, her voice still rough with tears. “I choose you too.”
