What was Tor doing? Was he still sitting in her room, with his back to the wall, dark eyes filled with….
No. She was not thinking about that.
The path rose to the top of the hill they’d been climbing, and they emerged onto a bleak ridge. Mountains rose up ahead of them, much closer now, while down to their right a steep tree-covered slope fell away toward a distant lake.
The lake was huge and dark, nestling between the hills, its far shores hidden in swathes of mist and low clouds. And on the near side, about a mile along the shore, up against a wall of sheer cliffs, was a huge encampment—enough tents for two hundred men, maybe more. It was unlike anything she had ever imagined from a group of reivers. Who the hell were these people?
Her captors pushed their horses into a gallop as Keely clung on, desperate not to fall on that desolate hillside. Within minutes they were off the ridge and bringing the horses to a walk as they turned down a narrow gorge. Sometime in the distant past, a swiftly flowing river or waterfall must have carved its way downward, forming what was now a steep wooded path that dropped toward the lake below.
Garn whistled a long, low blast, which was quickly answered from among the trees, as they picked their way down the narrow track between dense groves of spiky pines.
The orange-brown bark of the pines was rough and peeling, and the thick beds of needles muffled the horse’s hooves as the fresh scent of the trees filled the air. At any other time, she would have thought it beautiful. The sharp scent of the trees in the cold air would have filled her with nostalgia for the pine forests of her childhood. But this felt nothing like her childhood memories. This felt like a trap. Like the end of everything she had ever hoped for.
Bard. She had been so desperate to see Tor again. What a mistake that had been.
She closed her eyes and tried not to think about the look on his face as he accused her of taking his family away. Pale, lined with exhaustion, unshaved from many days on the road. His dark eyes filled with… anger?
Was it anger?
Now, with the long, painful miles between them, it was less obvious. Had he really been enraged, or was he afraid? The intensity of what they’d shared had almost been overwhelming, even for her. And the Bard knew, Tor didn’t handle emotions well.
Keely understood—she’d been through it herself. The horror of discovering that the world didn’t work in the way you thought it did. That all your plans, your solid foundations, could be ripped away in a moment. It was easier to stay numb and hide behind your walls. Especially for a man like Tor, whose walls had been sky high to start with.
But he’d gone too far. Both times she’d trusted him, he’d hurt her. Badly. She was done with giving him the benefit of the doubt.
And yet…she couldn’t forget the hope and joy that had sparked in his eyes when he first realized they were having a baby. Or the desperate sincerity of their reunion. He had followed, not realizing she was pregnant. He had followedher. He had chosenher. And then, when he was tired and vulnerable, he’d had a shock.
What had he said…?How could you do this to me?Do what, exactly? What had he meant?It’s you.What was her?
Bloody hell. She’d done it again. She’d walked out based on two vague sentences without demanding a proper explanation. Without giving him a chance to process his feelings or to say what he really meant. When she knew that her walking away was exactly what he was afraid of in the first place.
She truly hated this feeling. Confusion, anger, and guilt all warring inside her, underpinned by hurt.
Keely sighed. Did any of it even matter when she was unlikely to survive the rest of the day? She pinched herself, hard. Fuck that. She wasn’t going to think like that. She was going to survive, and she was going to make a home for the pea. Just like she’d promised.
It took nearly an hour of bruising riding to reach the marshy bank of the lake and another to pick their way along its shore before she started to sense a new tension flicking through the man in front of her as he watched the camp ahead.
They reached the palisade that formed the front of the encampment and stopped to dismount at the narrow entrance. Keely shivered in the growing cold, painfully aware of the vigilant gaze of the guards in the large wooden towers that protected the gate.
A Verturian guard—distinctive green bicep tattoos revealed by his sleeveless jerkin despite the dropping temperature—stepped back from the gate to allow two large Apollyon soldiers to stride out and stand at the entrance to the camp. Why the hell were Verturians and Apollyons working together?
Both Apollyon soldiers had the characteristic wide shoulders and strong arms, dark hair and eyes, that she knew so well from Tor. But unlike him, these men were cold and hard, their gazes flickering over her captors and settling on her, assessing.
The first turned to sneer at Garn. “You’re late.”
“Sorry… ah, sir. We had a small problem… but we brought….” Garn gestured toward Keely.
The first of the new guards looked her up and down with narrow eyes. “I know you.”
Keely tried to step back, but Garn grabbed her arm and pulled her, shoving her forward. “She was with Princess Peevish.”
She narrowed her eyes and glared at Garn. If she had to hear Alanna called Princess Peevish one more time, she was going to punch someone.
The second guard’s jaw clenched tightly as he scowled at Garn. “You were supposed to confirm whether the princess was there and assess her guard, then come back and report. Not bring—” He glanced at Keely “—whatever this is.”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, slowly breathing in the cold mountain air. At least she was off the horse and away from her captor’s stench. Even if where they’d brought her had turned out to be even worse than she’d imagined.
Garn wiped his hand down his hair, tugging at the long locks. “She… ah… she might have, um….”
