They would reach the castle by nightfall.
Lane raised his hand to her.
She nodded back at him, though he was likely too far away to see the small gesture.
She was glad Ian would not be alone.
Reaching Lane, Ian mounted Rowena. He turned the horse away from the water.
She wanted him to turn around. To look at her once more.
But he did not.
The horses disappeared from view, Rowena’s white tail flicking around the outcropping of rock.
Robin remained frozen in place. And suddenly, she knew how it felt to stand helpless as someone walked away. Forever.
Chapter 52
Ian was thankful to be sitting, even if it was on the back of a moving horse. The action still required using most of the muscles in his body, but at least his own legs did not have to do all of the work.
Lane rode in front of Ian, his shorter, stocky mount traipsing along the packed-dirt road with fresh energy. Lane himself, experienced horseman that he was, rode along with an extra bounce in his shoulders.
Ian looked away. The mere sight of that expended energy caused him to seethe in anger. He rolled his hips with every step Rowena took, melding the movement of his muscles with hers to conserve the energy he no longer had.
He wished he had turned around for one last glimpse of Robin.
But he had not. He knew his resolve was fragile. And the sight of her standing there, watching him ride away, would have destroyed it.
“. . . Robin . . . never seen . . .” Lane’s voice cut into Ian’s thoughts.
Ian looked up to find his riding companion had slowed, dropping back to ride side by side with Rowena. Ian grunted,partly in response to whatever Lane had said, and partly in frustration at Lane’s closeness.
Ian’s mind immediately searched back in time, trying to rehear what Lane had said. But his thoughts were too muddled to recall the words, so he consciously decided to stop trying.
He truly did not want to hear what Lane thought about Robin. He did not want to hear what anyone thought about Robin. He did not want to think about Robin. He did not want to hear Robin’s name spoken in his presence.
Perhaps his brothers and Meena had been right to refrain from mentioning her in his presence all those years. He would have to demand that such an unspoken rule be reinstated moving forward—if he survived this. If Onric and Erich and Aden survived this. If his father survived...
If Robin survived this.
Funny, though, that she who put herself in the most danger was more likely to survive than the rest of them.
Robin. The woman who had been fighting this fight for longer than any of them had known it existed. Robin who had created safety for dozens—likely hundreds—of people. She would survive this through sheer force of will and the knowledge that someone needed her.
“I am glad that you came to Lockwood, Ian.” Lane was speaking to him again.
Ian lifted his head, drawn to the sincerity in the other man’s words despite his own continued desire for silence.
“I had not expected you to be so easy to get along with.”
Ian shook his head. He did not want this man’s appreciation. He was a failure, and he wanted to feel like a failure.
“Perhaps we are making the wrong move,” Lane continued, looking over at Ian. “We could be great friends, just the two of us. Leave all this behind.”
Confused—and against his better judgment—Ian looked over at the man riding next to him.
Lane had his eyebrows raised, or rather, his whole face was raised, lifted toward Ian to compensate for Rowena’s superior height. But under those earnest eyes, Lane’s mouth twitched into a small grin. “We could take the north fork, just up ahead. Keep riding until we reach Etrar.” Lane was grinning now. “Find a small village in the mountains somewhere.”
