She bent and then stood up, holding out a piece of white to him. It appeared to be a torn piece of paper.
“She’s leaving a trail of parchment,” Willow said. She lifted her shimmering blue eyes to him.
They locked gazes. Had she dropped the parchment before the sword fight or after? Was she hurt? He saw the same questions and many more mirrored in Willow’s eyes. “She’s fine,” Christian reassured. “We’ll find her.”
Willow nodded, but there was no conviction. She fisted her hand around the parchment. “Let’s go.” She headed for the horse. “There’s no time to waste.”
It had been a long day, and Christian was hungry and thirsty. They stopped in a village to get supplies and food. His stomach grumbled as they left the horse with the stable hand and approached the inn.
Four other horses were tied in the yard. Prickles of trepidation danced across his nape at the number of guests.
Willow headed toward the door.
He grasped her arm, stopping her. “Remember not to draw attention. We don’t know who is inside or who might be searching for us.”
She nodded in agreement.
He knew she had no power to honor that request as they entered. She drew attention wherever she went. As soon as the door opened, every male in the room knew she was there.
Christian felt a surge of protectiveness sweep him, but Willow seemed not to notice the attention. She entered and moved up to an empty table, the only one left unoccupied, in the center of the room.
The cloying, sweet smell of mutton filled the room, and Christian’s stomach grumbled.
A woman wearing an apron around her waist hurried to them, brushing a lock of brown hair from her forehead. She was lanky, her expression wry. She appeared weary as if it was a rough night. “Can I get ya somethin’?”
Willow scanned the room. “We’d like ales,” she said.
“Cheese and bread,” Christian added.
“It looks busy,” Willow said.
The woman bobbed her head. “It’s like this at night. Merchants, farmers all come in when the sun sets.”
“Anyone in here giving you trouble?” Willow asked.
Oh, no, Christian thought, pinning Willow with a direct stare.
She looked at the table of men in the back.
“I’d stay away from that group in the corner,” the woman advised.
Christian cast a glimpse at the four men seated at a round wooden table. They all had mugs in their hands, leaning forward as one of them spoke. Then, two burst out laughing. They seemed like town men, but he couldn’t be certain they weren’t mercenaries.
The woman walked toward a back door.
A loud guffaw rose from the four males.
Hushed speaking came from three villagers eating pottage at a table opposite the rowdy men.
Two farmers at a table two feet away from Christian peered uneasily at the four.
Christian didn’t like how crowded it was. “We should leave,” he suggested.
Willow stared intently at the corner of four men. “I want to find out if anyone has seen Sage.”
“I wouldn’t get involved with them,” one of the farmers advised from the table next to them.
Christian glanced at him.
