Alasdair and Simeon both lived, their lonely, broken souls shining as brightly as ever.
He prayed that they might stay that way until he could reach them. Even without Abby to slow his progress, time was against him, conspiring to keep him from reaching his kinsmen until after the battle at Methven. Too late for that perhaps, but not too late to warn his king of what was to come, no matter what his family had said.
Arms full, he rejoined Abby, settling in to the work of building their fire in silence. The flames were just beginning to lick hungrily around the dry tinder when she stood.
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
He was on his feet before she finished pushing away the first branches. “Where do you think yer going?” he demanded of her retreating back.
“To do my girl thing in the bushes.”
He didn’t care for the idea of having her out of his sight. “Would you like me to come stand guard as you—”
“Absolutely not!” she interrupted, her eyes widening in shock. “Relax. I’ll scream real loud if I need you. I promise.”
Of that he had no doubt. His Abby was not one to go down without a fight. Besides, he’d scanned the area and knew there wasn’t a single person close enough to cause her any harm.
He’d barely had time to sit before another worry replaced the last. No people, perhaps, but there could well be animals. He was back on his feet, moving in the direction she’d disappeared in, when he heard her returning.
They’d need to work on her ability to move more stealthily if they planned to go undetected once they reached more populated areas.
Night had firmly settled her cloak over the land by the time they’d finished their meal of bread, cheese, and meat.
Abby spread out her blanket close to the fire and sat down, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “You were right. It does get a lot cooler when it gets dark. I’m glad you built the fire rather than listen to me.”
As if he would have allowed her to talk him into something so foolish.
He untied the strings on his blanket and crossed to her side of the fire, rolling out his bedding and laying it next to hers.
“What are you doing? I don’t need you to sleep next to me. I’m not afraid of the dark, you know.”
“The cold,” he patiently explained. “We’ll be more comfortable sleeping closer together as the temperature continues to drop.” Not to mention, he’d be more comfortable having her well within his reach throughout the night.
“Okay. I can accept that.” She rolled over, presenting her back to him, and pulled her blanket up over her ear, leaving only the top of her head peeking out.
He settled down next to her, contenting himself with listening to the gentle, lulling cadence of her breathing. He pushed back the accusing finger of guilt that prodded at his chest with each new sign of exhaustion Abby displayed. He could have led them in a more westerly track so that they would have spent their first night at the home of his sister and her husband. It would have meant the loss of a day’s travel time, but there would have been a warm bed at the end of their journey.
He’d avoided it on purpose. He didn’t have a day to spare. Not even for her comfort.
“How will you know where to find your friends?” Her voice was muffled by the blanket she’d pulled around her. “I mean, if the battle is over by the time we reach them, how will you know if they’re still alive? And if they are and they’ve moved on, how will you know where to look for them?”
He considered ignoring her, pretending to sleep, but his gut told him he’d tried deceit on Abby too often as it was.
“I’m cursed,” he said simply. “The only positive aspect of my curse is that it will allow me to track Dair and Sim no matter where they go, as long as they are alive.” And if they’d died because he was too slow, he’d know that, too.
“Cursed, huh?” She rolled over to face him, her head propped up on her arm. “I want to hear about that. Cursed, how? Tell me the whole story. How did you end up cursed?”
And so he told her. Everything. Every facet of his fateful encounter with the Faerie Queen. He described to her what he’d seen, what he’d heard, even what he’d felt that day, details he’d shared with no one else in all these years. Why he told her, he couldn’t say, other than that she had asked and he had found himself with no desire to deny her.
At one point she’d closed her eyes and he thought she might have fallen asleep, but when he stopped talking, she urged him to continue.
“I can almost see it in my imagination when I listen to your descriptions,” she said, and he found himself trying harder to find the perfect words to describe every detail.
“And what of you, wife?” he asked at last. “What are the gifts carried in yer Faerie blood?”
“I don’t really have any gifts.” She rolled to her back and cushioned her head with her arms. “I’d tell you I didn’t have any Faerie blood, either, but then I’d be at a total loss to explain how the heck I ended up here, wouldn’t I?”
The fire’s dying embers cast a glowing backdrop for her profile, encouraging him to drink in the sight ofher lying there with her eyes closed. He searched for something to ask, anything that might set her to talking so he could soak in the sound of her voice.
