12
SHACKLES OF GUILT
Taryn took an instinctive step back, then two, then three. She hated how much James’ words affected her. He had made it clear from the very beginning of this entire trip that his good opinion of her had vanished years ago, but knowing that no matter what she did, she could never regain it stole her breath.
“I will give ye five minutes to collect yerself,” he told her cooly. “And then we set off again.”
“I thought ye said the horse needed to rest.”
Her argument slipped out before she could think better of it.
“He does. But it is verra likely that those bounty hunters will be back. I dinnae intend on being here when they return.”
Taryn busied herself with washing the blood off her face and hands, quickly rebraiding her knotted hair, and tugging her cloak back around her shoulders. Meanwhile, James buttoned his jacket and sheathed his sword. He then snapped off a branch full of limbs and dead leaves overhead and pulled out some rope. She wanted to ask what he was doing, but kept her mouth closed this time.
At his insistence, they walked to the road, venturing onto it for the first time during this journey. Once there, she mountedand waited to see what he would do. Calmly, as if his actions made all the sense in the world, James tied the branch to the lower third of the horse’s tail, letting it trail behind them. He then moved to her side, a fresh piece of rope in his hands and wound it around her wrists once more. Any hope she might have had at proving herself trustworthy vanished when he tugged on the knot to ensure it was secure.
How will I be able to defend myself should those attackers come back?
She was truly beginning to question his sanity until James climbed into the saddle, and they set off walking.
Twisting around to see, she watched as the branch erased their trail almost as quickly as they made it. When she looked at James over her shoulder, he raised an eyebrow, daring her to make a comment. Taryn said nothing, even as she sent up a silent prayer of thanks, knowing that they were safe from at least one villain.
They rode well into the night before stopping for a few hours to rest. The sun came up much sooner than she would have liked, but she didn’t dare complain as they climbed into the saddle yet again and started riding. Avoiding the roads meant that she had been entirely unaware of just how close they were to McGregor lands until they crossed into them.
“Och,” she said in a surprised whisper. “We will be there before the midday meal.”
“Aye.”
It was a response she should have seen coming from James. Apart from their few conversations that often turned into arguments, he had only given her single syllable answers. But her realization felt so much larger than one word. Their arrival at the McGregor Castle would mean the end of her freedom. Her three years of roaming, of being able to do as she pleased wasquickly coming to an end. Her life would never be the same now that they crossed the McGregor borders.
Of course, she had known that her life was invariably changed the second James had kidnapped her. But it hadn’t hit her just how different things were going to be until now. She had thought, perhaps a bit foolishly, that their travels would take several more days.
A knot, low and gnarly, settled in her gut. Sweat broke out along the base of her skull that no amount of winter wind could stop. For a moment, she wondered if James could sense just how nervous she was now. He always seemed to be able to tell exactly what she was feeling, often before she did. If he did, he didn’t say anything.
Her eyes stayed glued to the road, unable to let any part of it pass without taking notice. The closer to the castle they got, the worse the road conditions became. Giant holes that would have easily upturned a cart peppered the trail. Bridges had been washed away and left unrepaired, forcing them to find another way around. The few houses they did come across had been long since abandoned. None of this seemed to be a shock to James, but to Taryn it completely ruined the image of her clan she’d held in her mind these past three years.
“What have I done?” she asked, mostly to herself.
Before James could answer, a smattering of mud hit the side of her face. Taryn jolted in shock from the blow.
“Traitor!”
The harsh accusation came from a wrinkled and hunched old woman with hands so gnarled, were it not for the mud staining them, Taryn never would have thought her capable of holding anything.
With tears pricking her eyes, Taryn silently brushed the mud off her face.
“He is back!”
“James has brought her back!”
“Coward!”
“We are saved”
The villagers shouted out a mix of praises for James’ feat of finding and returning Taryn to the clan and sheer hatred of Taryn. Some threw things at her, others spat as they rode past, while some ignored her entirely and cheered for James.
She wished she could say that their jeers were the worst part of the ride to the castle, but the state of the village hurt her far more than their words ever could. Everywhere she looked there were signs of poverty. Gardens overgrown and forgotten, some entirely barren. Houses shuttered with blankets stuffed over windows to keep the heat in. Mothers in clothes too small and in tatters while their children shivered despite their best efforts. Every face looked to be skin and bones, no one spared from such a fate.
