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“A fact I now regret,” I say honestly. “But one that does not change our current situation. I want only to keep you safe.”

She is confused, but I can do nothing to alleviate it.

“My sister will worry.”

A fact I’d already considered.

“I will have word sent to her of your safekeeping.”

Light from the candle at the center of the table flickers in her sharp eyes as they narrow. “I will trust you if you’ll answer but one question.”

Convincing her to change course was easier than I’d expected.

“Go ahead then,” I prompt her, eager to know if before first light we will be making our way further west of the border.

“Who are you really, Father Aiken?”

14

Hilla

Being woken before dawn did not annoy me.

Being made to wear a servant’s gown and sleeveless tunic that he’d somehow acquired yesterday in town did not bother me at all. Riding two to a saddle though . . . it was damned uncomfortable. For no other reason than I am more acutely aware of Aiken at my back than I was before we reached Crow’s End. There is a difference between the reticent Elderman who’d captured me and the man at my back.

With him no longer wearing robes, I find myself forgetting that he is, indeed, an Elderman. Sword ever-present, and having donned a tunic I’ve not yet seen him wear, Aiken could pass easily for a commander. He certainly gives orders like one.

“Will we stop soon?”

The sun had risen long ago. After crossing a stream that convinced me we would drown and a mountain Aiken called a “small mound,” I am more than ready for my feet to touch flat ground.

“Only when tis necessary. Do you need for us to stop, Hilla?”

Even when he talks, Aiken somehow sounds as if he says few words. How does he manage such a thing?

“Nay,” I admit, knowing that because we ride double, our pace will be slow. When I asked how long it would take for us to reach Castle d’Almerita, he replied that it would have taken him a fortnight alone. Clearly it will be longer with us both.

“How far do you think they will follow?”

At least he seemed more inclined to answer my questions than before.

“I do not know.”

Turning in the saddle, I see enough of Aiken’s face to read his expression.

“You are worried.”

“Nay,” he lies.

And then looks at me.

When he does that, my stomach twists in knots. If there was ever any man I could not have, it is this one. Laughing at his attempt to quiet me as we made our way to the bedchamber last eve—apparently I giggle when I’ve had too much ale to drink—I fell asleep with just one thought. And ’twas not for my safety.

Or even, surprisingly, of Cettina. Aiken assured me not only had Whitley been well and truly caught, but that he would not be set free, even without my testimony. He seems assured about many things an Elderman should not have knowledge of, convincing me the question I asked is a good one.

Who is this man, precisely?

Of course, he refused to answer. And I agreed to this plan with little choice despite it.