Page 14

Both Galien’s tunic and Reina’s gown were dark colors, thankfully, or they would have been removed as well. When she finished, he wrapped her in his plaid, placing part of it over her head. It would do nothing to keep her dry, of course. They both would be lucky not to catch a chill before the night was through. Thankfully, the cool September breeze held off, the night warmer than most this time of year.

“’Tis the best we can do,” he said, confident he’d made the right decision but hating that they were now at a standstill. The urge to run was strong, but some urges needed to be fought against.

He knew the fact well.

“Your face?” she said. “Before you put mud on it.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the look of her, the white of Reina’s eyes and teeth more noticeable now.

“What of it,” he asked as she smiled, likely for the same reason as he. Galien knew he looked as absurd as she did. But nothing mattered so little at the moment as how they appeared to each other.

“Without the dirt and dried blood. . .”

He waited for her to finish, but she didn’t. Galien was about to ask when he heard it. Putting his finger to his lips, he indicated for her to remain silent. And then whispered, “Do not move.”

As they sat in silence, the only sound rain hitting the ground all around them, Galien and Reina watched each other. He strained to hear it again, hoping to be wrong. But more than a sound, it was a feeling. The ground told him someone was coming.

First, it was branches cracking. And then shouts, more than one. It was possible they’d been spotted, as Galien suspected. But more likely both his and Reina’s absence had also been discovered. This was no sole guard coming to inspect a shadow he may have seen in the clearing. There were at least ten men. Or more. Their horses neighed, their shouts audible now, and even Reina understood.

The might of Baron Anbarth was coming for them.

10

For the first time in her life, Reina knew true terror.

Once, when she was little, she’d believed a stablehand who told her that sleeping near her horse would make her a better rider. So she’d done so, sneaking out of her chamber each night. But with every sound she was convinced something terrible was about to happen. The next morning, by the time she made her way to the keep, her hair full of straw, and after being properly chastised by her maid and her parents, Reina had spent the remainder of the day attempting to convince the marshal not to dismiss the boy who’d played no more than a simple prank. She vowed after the incident not to believe everything that was said to her, but thus far, Reina had failed in that endeavor.

Another time, years later, she’d been treating a young child with Joan when it seemed the boy would not live through the night. Even now she could remember the color of his cheeks, her fervent wish for them to return to normal. For his breathing to become less belaboured. Joan had told her to return to the keep, but she refused to leave the boy and his mother’s side. By morning, there was pink once again in his cheeks. He began to breathe normally.

Though she’d seen plenty of death in the years to follow, assisting Joan, that time, it was life that greeted them when the blacksmith’s son finally opened his eyes.

“Over here,” a voice called.

She knew that voice. This was one of the guards that had been assigned to the dungeons. Which meant, not only had they been spotted, but they definitely knew she and Galien were missing. She looked at Galien, who was now crouching rather than sitting like her. Though the driving rain had ceased, a light one still fell. Every so often Galien would run his hand through his hair, and for her part, she could not stop staring, despite the fact that his face was now covered in mud. The memory of it clean was impossible to forget. She’d wanted to place her hands on both of his cheeks to feel them. To feel if he was, indeed, real.

As it did every few moments, his finger rose to his lips. She knew not to speak, of course, but Galien seemed to be reminding her to barely breathe. Or move. They were surrounded by thicket, and it would take someone to come directly upon them for she and Galien to be discovered. But if they were. . .

Reina could not bear the thought. Choosing between the story he’d given her—a death sentence for certain—and the possibility that she or even her parents could be implicated as traitors for her actions. . . it was no choice at all. Silly, she supposed, since Reina hardly knew this man either.

“The rain,” another guard called. Reina could not hear the rest of his words, but suddenly it seemed like chaos all around them. Instead of riders to their east only, there seemed to be others from the south now too.

They would be caught.

She looked at him, the whites of Galien’s eyes a beacon. He did not look away. Instead, he seemed to be telling her something. His expression softened as the voices grew louder, closer. His shoulders rose, then, as Galien took in a deep breath. They fell as he expelled it, silently.

He wanted her to breathe with him. She couldn’t. Reina could not breathe at all. Her hands began to tremble. She swallowed, closing her fists. But still, they shook.

They were surrounded.

Galien’s hands covered hers easily. They were sure. Strong. Reina looked up. This time, when he took another breath in, she was able to do it too. Mimicking him, she breathed. And breathed again.

There were so many shouts now. Why had they not uncovered them? Surely the guards knew they were in these bushes.

Galien’s eyes held hers as they continued to breathe, his hands still covering her clasped fist. He was telling her to remain calm. A fine idea if they weren’t surrounded by her father’s men and about to be discovered. Likely, no matter what she said, Galien would die at the hands of her king.

Reina was sure she had never looked so deeply into another person’s eyes before. Did they always reveal so much, or was her fancy overtaking any logic that remained in her head?

Reina listened. Was it possible? There seemed to be less shouts. Less rustling. She did not dare to hope. Until. . . it was true. More time passed. Impossibly, they were gone.