Chapter 23
The treasured book flew end over endthrough the air.
Guillume’s gaze followed the path of Marcus’s toss.
The soldiers watched the book sail above their heads.
Sage caught the book. Marcus’s shout rang in her ears.Run! Her chest squeezed, and agony clawed at her as she shook her head to deny his request. Everyone was looking at her.
For a moment, no one moved. Marcus all but shook with intensity as he stared at her in despair. Then he moved, surging toward her. The soldiers caught his arms before he could take more than a step, restraining him.
Sage jerked to go to his aid.
“Get her!” Guillume shouted.
She froze as two of the soldiers broke away from the struggle with Marcus to race toward her.
“Run!” Marcus called between clenched teeth. The soldiers pushed him to his knees and then to the ground, shoving his face into the dirt.
Sage pulled her sword partially from the sheath when she spotted more soldiers emerging from the inn. There were too many for her to fight. Her father had taught her to know when to retreat. Still, every one of her instincts wanted to go to Marcus’s aid, wanted to battle her way through to his side.
The soldiers raced toward her, closing the distance with their swords out.
She met Marcus’s gaze. Desperate fear glimmered in his stare. She knew when she couldn’t win a fight, and this was one of those times. Reluctantly, she turned away from him. She had to remain free, so she could save him. She had to keep the book out of their hands. It was the only thing that would save Marcus’s life.
She dashed around the side of the inn to her horse, shoving the book into her armor. As she snatched the reins free from a branch, the soldiers rounded the corner and charged toward her.
She swung herself up into the saddle. She was an expert rider, but this was not her horse. She didn’t know if it would panic or rear at her hasty commands. Still, she could control horses and certainly knew how to escape some paid oafs. One reached her and grabbed her leg as she spurred the steed forward. She swung the horse around, knocking into the soldier, sending him to the ground. The second one reached her, but the horse took off, charging toward the road. She leaned over the horse’s neck, urging it faster.
She hated to leave Marcus. She wanted to return to him and make sure he was safe, that his cousin had not harmed him. She grimaced. She had been right about Guillume. But that wasn’t important right now. She was certain his cousin would send men after her.
As if on cue, she heard horses behind her. She twisted in the saddle to see two soldiers on horses chasing after her.
She hated to be right all the time.
Sage urged the horse forward, her body moving in cadence with the animal. She needed a distraction; she needed a crowd of people. She turned the horse into the clearing at the side of the road and headed back into town. She could never outrace them. Well, she could if she tried. The problem was, she wanted to get back to Marcus.
They chased her through a farmer’s field. She heard one farmer shout angrily as the soldiers trampled over his crops. She guided the horse back onto the road toward the town and the market. As soon as she hit the road, she spurred the horse, driving it faster. She had to make it into the town before they did.
Faster. She leaned low in the saddle. The wind whooshed in her ears in rhythm with the mad beating of her heart. Her mind drifted for an instant to Marcus. His face shoved into the dirt, twisting to watch her with concern marring his brow. He had been more worried about her than his welfare. Her jaw clenched. If they hurt him... She shook her head.Stay focused.
The town came into view. The crowded street was her avenue of escape. She remembered when her father had taught her this move, years ago. It was difficult for Willow to learn at first. She didn’t like frightening the villagers. Sage had been shocked that her father would scare the townspeople to escape. But sometimes, it was necessary. Only now, when her life was threatened, did she truly understand how necessary.
Closer.
A thin merchant looked up at her from behind his brightly colored cart as she galloped full speed down the road, her steed kicking up dirt behind her.
“‘Don’t be afraid,’” her father had said. “‘No one will get hurt if you control the horse.’”
And if she couldn’t control the horse, there might be an accident, and the soldiers might catch up to her. And Marcus might be killed. Anxiety churned inside of her, tightening her stomach.
A little bit farther.
A villager yelled at her to slow down. Other villagers and merchants looked at her as she hurtled nearer. Someone ahead waved their arms. One of the merchants began scooping up his wares.
Don’t worry about the soldiers. Keep going. Keep going.
When she passed the house closest to the market, she reined the horse in hard, steering it between two houses. A sharp left. Her leg brushed the second house. Her father would have made it without coming that close. But it was good enough. Her horse slowed but didn’t stop, and for that, she was grateful. She kicked the horse to spur it faster. The mud and wattle house blurred by until she came to the rear of the house, where she turned the horse right.
