Is this what it feels like when you start losing your mind?
“There is a town beyond this hill,” he says later. “We need to make a stop.”
“For food?”
“Definitely. You need to eat more. Can’t have you arriving at your future husband’s home looking half-starved.”
I smooth a hand down my skirt. “I don’t look starved.”
“No, you don’t. You look perfect, but we can’t have you wasting away. A man likes some love handles on his woman.”
I splutter. “Stop saying such things. I’m not one of your buddies in a dingy tavern?—”
“You think that’s how I talk to my buddies? Oh, Princess…” He laughs. “We’re a filthy bunch. You have no idea how fucking careful and polite I’m being right now.”
“Are you? You can’t stop talking about sex?—”
“I wasn’t.” He places a hand on his chest. “Was I? You’re the one who used the word.”
“It’s not about the word! It’s about?—”
“Cocks.” He taps a finger against his lips. “You blushed a lot when talking about my cock. Try saying the word again, just to see?—”
“Stop.”
He lifts his hands, grinning. “As you wish, my lady. I wouldn’t dream of using words that make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m not…” I huff. What am I doing? This is crazy. “You are such a terrible tease.”
His eyes sparkle. “Only with the people I really like.”
And that is the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time. Even if I’m not supposed to believe it. Even if it doesn’t matter. As long as he gets me to my destination, whether he likes or hates me is a moot point.
So why does it matter so much to me?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
ROSAMUND
“How far are we from Lord Eorl’s manor?” I ask as we trudge through meadows, small spotted deer darting here and there. Birds chirp, and the smell of crushed, wet grass and herbs is enchanting.
“Not that far.”
A butterfly flies around me, pink and white. “What does that mean? Days? Weeks?”
“Days. A couple of days at most. We are taking a shortcut through the wilderness, saving time.”
“That’s great,” I say, but for some reason… I don’t quite feel it. Shouldn’t I be more excited and relieved?
I don’t like walking for miles every day on rough terrain, eating scraps of meat, and being afraid for my life all the time. Surely not.
Even if it’s together with Valen.
I’m so confused, it’s giving me a pounding headache. He’s walking ahead now, scouting the area, and I follow behind, lifting my long, bedraggled skirt that keeps catching on thorns and low brambles. My shoes are scratched, and the heels are worn from the trek over rocks and rough earth. They were nevermade for hiking through the country. Neither was my dress, my petticoat, my body and my soul.
No part of me was made for that.
For such a journey. Such a trek. For a man like Valen, or his life.
