Page 65 of Ravenrose

“You’re more stubborn than you look,” Ayer sighs. His voice sounds almost tired.

He doesn’t say anything more before he stands and walks away, a sharp command cutting through the trees.

We’re stopping.

I look up for the first time, pulling myself out of the dirt when my eyes stop where Ayer had just been standing. There rests a familiar leather satchel and another small bundle of what I assume is bread and cheese. And they aren’t alone, because sitting beside the food and water is something else: my boots.

The overwhelming exhaustion plaguing me offers yet another blissfully dreamless sleep. Ayer also removed the ropes last night. And while still tired and sore, I start the day with my head just a little bit clearer.

The sun shines brightly today, and the surrounding air is warmer than it’s been the last few days. Or perhaps it’s my now protected feet, warm and snug inside the soft wool lining my leather boots.

The warmth of the wool on my feet makes me think of Maksa, and my chest tightens. If she were here, she would be curled at my feet, asleep and alive. Stars, I don’t even know if she made it out of Rosecliff. I wasn’t able to find her after the evacuation started and before the castle devolved into chaos. I don’t know if she’s⁠—

I cut off the thought before it can finish, and thankfully, movement across the clearing pulls my attention away from the dark thoughts haunting me. Ayer leads Dash up from the nearby river, where he watered the horse, then he ties him up before going to retrieve his saddle.

Slowly, I rise to my feet, carefully. I’m still unbound, and I’d like to avoid being tackled by anyone thinking I’m making a run for it. Most of the men are up and busy, cooking up some last-minute breakfast or packing saddlebags.

I walk stiffly across the clearing, carefully making my way toward Ayer’s horse. The dark stallion nickers at my approach. I haven’t tried again to pet him since that first night in the woods, so I leave a few paces between us when I stop.

Standing still and breathing easy, I extend my palm, stopping a few inches away from actually touching him.

Dash tosses his head. His long, shiny mane flies out, getting swept up in the warm breeze that rustles the leaves of the trees above us this morning. He shifts on his feet and I pull my hand back, looking away to hide the brief flash of disappointment I know is shining in my eyes.

Not a moment later, soft velvet brushes against my fingertips, and I look up in surprise at the formidable war horse as his nose meets my palm.

I let my hand rest there, awestruck, his breath soft and warm against my skin. Dash lets out a deep, winded breath, his eyes closing sleepily. My lips curl up into a small smile, and for a moment, everything else fades into the background. I savor the brief moment of peace to start the day, my fingers curling slightly, giving his nose a little scratch.

The stallion’s ears swivel, and just as soon as it began, our brief moment is over. Dash’s nose slips from my grasp as he swings his head up, pawing at the earth below while releasing a snort.

I feel him before I see him. And when I do look up, Ayer’s gaze is fixed on me. In it, I find nothing but a cold warning.

My hand drops, and I quickly take a step back, shying away from the horse and skirting around him until I find myself at his rear. My eyes drop to the ground as I wait—like I have every morning—for the rope. To be tied like cattle to the horse once again.

I steal a peek, watching Ayer throw the saddle over Dash’s back. His men mount their horses around us, preparing to leave. When my gaze finds his again, I notice he’s already watching me—an unreadable expression on his face.

Instinctively, I narrow my eyes, staring up at him defiantly, awake enough now to fend off any of his questions. He pauses, weighing something in his eyes before turning his attention back to Dash and swinging himself up and into the saddle.

The only one eager for the day to start, Dash prances lightly in place.

I stand there awkwardly, not quite sure what to do.

Did he forget?

I glance around, looking to see if someone else—Wyatt or Hayes, maybe—is on his way to tie me to the horse, but everyone else is already mounted. My eyes slide back to Ayer’s.

“Don’t fall behind.”

That’s all he says before giving Dash his head, moving out with the others, nodding to Wyatt who circles his gray mare back behind me once I finally start walking. Shock and confusion are written all over my face.

I rub my sore wrists absently, thankful for what might be a brief respite from the cutting ropes.

Sunshine sifts through the treetops, warming my cheek, and the boots on my feet make a world of difference despite the difficult terrain.

Before long, I smile.

They’re letting down their guard.

All I need now… is an opportunity.