Tor rowed hard, sculling them swiftly toward the middle of the lake. Carefully listening for any sign that their escape had been detected.
Long minutes passed with no noise except the oar splashing quietly as it sliced through the water.
Somehow, they had made it out of the camp without being caught, but they were still far from safety. They couldn’t stop anywhere on the same side of the lake as the camp, and they had no fucking idea what they would find on the other side. And with the darkness, the swirling, changing mists, and the feel of a storm coming, Tor had no idea how they were even going to find the other side in the first place.
Chapter Nineteen
Keely concentratedon breathing slowly as the oars dipped again and again in Tor’s firm grip. The blade splashed softly in the lake, and the canoe pulled quickly through the water carrying them away from Andred and the Wraiths’ camp. They’d been on the water for what felt like days but was probably closer to half an hour.
Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance and the wind whipped up across the lake, plucking at her hair and drenching her with icy spray as the oars raised and dipped. The cold breeze brought with it the frozen tang of snow from the high mountains and the scent of pine trees from the shore. But beneath those clean, clear scents, she could swear she smelled fish.
Perhaps the boat had been used for fishing in the past and the wood had absorbed the putrid odor of scales and bones and blood. Or perhaps there was a fishiness to the water itself or the mud on the distant shore. Or perhaps it was all in her mind. A memory jogged by the sensation of being back on the water, swaying and rolling and cold.
Bard. She was so tired, her body heavy and lethargic; drained by hours of fear. Her stomach clenched on itself, finding only bile after a day without food. The hours of staying strong and keeping herself together were hitting her. And her morning sickness was back with a vengeance.
She swallowed heavily, closing her eyes. And then immediately opened them again. Even the swirling misty darkness was better than having all her senses focused on the rocking heave of the canoe and the rising scent of decaying fish.
Keely swallowed again, trying to breathe as they crashed heavily down the side of a swell, the canoe pitching and rolling unsteadily on the churning whitecaps. The wind blew harder, carrying the storm closer.
Damn. Breathing was a mistake. A lungful of fishy air slid down the back of her throat. She couldn’t…. Keely twisted onto her knees and leaned against the side of the canoe, trying to move slowly enough not to tip them into the lake, but fast enough that she could get her head over the side of the boat in time, and then retched out over the water.
Her stomach cramped around nothing, her eyes watering as her body spasmed, and she fought to hold herself still enough that the boat didn’t rock. Keely wiped a shaking hand across her eyes and stared down at the dark, seething water, trying to get herself under control.
There was a clatter behind her, perhaps the oars being stowed, but she didn’t dare turn to look. And then Tor was there. His big hands swept her hair out of her face and held it safely at the back of her neck. Bard, what a relief to have those damp strands out of her face.
“Here, take my handkerchief,” Daena said softly from behind her. “I’ll row.”
Tor twisted to take it, mumbling a soft thank you, and then dipped the cotton square in the glacial water with his free hand and used it to gently wipe her face, clearing the clammy sweat from over her brow.
He dipped it again and then moved it to dab around the back of her neck. A shiver racked through her body, half hot and half cold, and then Tor gently pressed the handkerchief into her hand, reached down, and brought up a handful of fresh water.
She stared at it in confusion for a moment until he murmured, “Drink.” She carefully leaned down and took a sip. Bard. The ice-cold mountain water soothed her tight throat and somehow settled the churning acid in her belly. Enough that she could take a proper breath.
She hated to imagine what she must look like, hunched over the side of the boat, sweating and gulping water. And yet his hand still gently cradled the back of her head while his body stayed reassuringly close. The warm scent of his skin was soothing and safe and she leaned into him.
Tor dried his hand on his breeches and then tipped her chin up to look her in the eyes, his face dark and serious. “Is this what it was like for you? OnThe Star?”
No. OnThe Star, she had been alone and terrified, just starting to suspect that she was pregnant. Sick and exhausted and desperately uncertain of herself. She had wanted to go to him but didn’t know how. Now they were lost and running from the Wraiths in the darkness—but he was with her.
The words caught in her throat, and she shook her head instead. Somehow, he must have read the thoughts in her eyes because he lowered his forehead to hers. “I should have been with you.”
That was true. But maybe he would have been if she’d dared to ask. Maybe all their misunderstandings could have been avoided if either of them had been less afraid. If he had thought she would stay—and she hadn’t kept proving him right by leaving.
She looked up into his worried face; his care and concern written in the deep lines on his forehead, the depth of his dark eyes, even the gentle grip of his fingers on her chin, and tried to smile. “You’re here now.”
Tor took the handkerchief and dipped it into the water again to press against her neck. Somehow the cool cotton on her skin combined with the warmth of Tor’s arm around her shoulders soothed her enough that her stomach settled and she was able to sit back into the boat. “Thank you.”
He pressed a soft kiss onto her forehead and then helped her to sit curled in front of him, his legs bracketing her, surrounding her in his warmth.
“Rest for a bit. I’m happy to keep rowing,” Daena murmured, and Tor grunted his thanks.
Keely leaned back against Tor’s chest and let herself drift as he gently stroked her hair. Daena pulled the oars, and they skimmed through the darkness. Somehow, out in the middle of the dark lake, far from their friends, hunted by the men responsible for Ravenstone, she felt safe.
“Do you hear that?” Daena stowed the oars, and they all stopped to listen. A trumpet blared out across the water and whistles blew in the distance.
Tor stiffened, his big arm locking across her chest as if he could hold her safe against him.
“They know we’ve gone,” Keely whispered.
