“See?” he says, his mouth now intimately close to the shell of my ear. “I’m fit as a fiddle.”
I snort. “Tell that to your face.”
He chuckles.
Sabil wags her head.
“We should go,” I tell Rook, sensing Sabil’s need to move now that she’s saddled.
Rook takes the reins. “Hold on, Kansas.”
“Do you know how to ride a—”
Rook clicks his tongue and Sabil takes off.
“Oh god!” I shout.
“I told you to hold on,” Rook says.
I wrap my hand around the horn and squeeze with my thighs. It’s been a while since I’ve ridden—we had to put Betsy down several years back, and decided to invest in more cattle instead—but as soon as we’re free of the stable and following the gravel drive into the night, the thrill immediately returns. I love being on a horse. I love the wind in my hair and the partnership between human and animal.
It feelsright.
Rook tightens his grip on the reins, his arms firmly around me, his body impossibly close.
I’m trying not to think about it, not at a time like this. But not thinking about it makes me think about it, and butterflies emerge from their slumber, taking flight in my belly.
We’re in the mansion’s half-circle drive within seconds. Sabil’s shoes clack loudly on the cobblestones.
“There they are!” someone shouts to our left.
The guards.
They’re making their way down the front lawn, but they’re on foot with no horse or carriage in sight.
One of them lunges forward, arm outstretched, but Sabil dodges him easily and the man falls flat on his face.
The others take off after us, but Sabil is fast and before long, they’re just dark specks in the night.
“That wasn’t too hard,” Rook says, guiding Sabil down the street that got us here.
All the houses and shops are shut tight. There isn’t a single person out.
That’s a bit disconcerting.
Are we too late to find safety before whoever is crossing makes their way into Glimming Hollow?
I wasn’t paying attention to our route when we left the inn, but Rook seems to know the general direction.
The farther we get into the city, the more surreal it is. The stillness is so complete, every one of Sabil’s steps echoes off the surrounding buildings. It feels like a ghost town.
The hair lifts along the back of my neck and I shiver.
Rook leans in closer to me, his chest against my back. His touch is warm, solid, and comforting.
“How much farther do you think?” I ask.
“If I remember correctly, it’s the next street over, but I think we should go around to the back just to be safe.”
