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“I wish for all of it.”

Galien’s grip on the reins tightened. “You do not know what you ask for, Reina.”

“I am sheltered, aye, but not ignorant. I know precisely what I ask for. ’Tis nothing more than to have the same man who awakened a desire in me, who keeps me awake at night, be the one to show me what I’ve been missing.”

God save him, but with every word, Galien imagined Reina as she was last eve, beside her bed, lips still wet from his kiss. And now, she asked for the one thing he had imagined nearly every moment since they met.

There was only one thing he could do. “Hold on, lass.”

With that, he spurred his mount forward. To the ridge.

To home.

23

Brockburg Castle.

It was a pity they came upon it in the dark. Reina could see it rising high above them as they approached. But with only the moonlight as a guide, there were few people moving about as they approached.

Since that second kiss they’d shared, Galien seemed even more intent on reaching Brockburg than before. They’d stopped infrequently and rode hard into the night last eve, only stopping well past when the sun had set. They made camp with the reivers, and did not speak again of their kiss.

This morn, she did not have to be woken. Despite the hard earth on which she slept, or maybe because of it, Reina awoke even before the sun rose, and once again they were on their way.

She’d thought to ask him about this punishing pace, but it seemed evident to her what was happening. Galien wanted to be rid of her. To return home, make the inquiries he’d promised about her birth, and then get back to Wallace. Her eyes closed, sleep eluding her, she listened as Galien told the reivers about his capture. They warned him to be careful, but Galien brushed aside their concern.

She admired Galien’s dedication to his cause, a worthy one, it seemed to her now. She’d thought little of politics before, the issue of the Scots not one Reina had any control over. But she realized now that, as a borderer, it was her duty to understand. So she listened, balancing their words against her own father’s, which she could hear just as easily. If she closed her eyes, Reina could imagine sitting on the dais next to her mother, the woman who had loved and raised her and, perhaps, lied to her, as her father spoke to his sergeant-in-arms.

Both Galien’s and her father’s concerns seemed to be valid ones. And yet, if she were forced to choose, how could Reina not side with a man who wanted only for his country to be free from the oppression of a king that even her father admitted was flawed?

By the time they’d made their way to the inner courtyard, each set of guards recognizing Galien even in darkness, they were surrounded by people. It seemed news of Galien’s capture had reached them, and despite the hour, more and more appeared. He was embraced by so many, Reina lost him for a moment.

She was pushed back by the crowd when a hand captured hers. Galien pulled her toward his side and brought her toward the doors of the main keep. Just then, doors were opened and a woman appeared, tears streaming down her face.

Her blond hair pulled partially back, the handsome woman, clearly Galien’s mother, embraced him as he released Reina’s hand. He held his mother tightly as she continued to cry and the crowd suddenly began to disperse. Likely because of him.

The man was an older version of Galien. They could be twins if not for the difference in their ages. As he strode toward Galien, embracing him just as his mother released him, Reina’s chest constricted, knowing this would not be the reception she’d receive from her parents.

Not after what she’d done.

Neither were either of her parents as affectionate as Galien’s. They loved her—Reina truly believed they did, even after learning their tale of her birth was likely a lie. But never had she felt as utterly surrounded by love as Galien was now.

Just as Galien turned to find her, a younger man ran from the keep. Seeing Galien, he ran to him, nearly toppling him over. From the resemblance, and his age, it seemed this must be Rodric, Galien’s brother.

“Come with us,” a deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

Galien’s father led her into the keep, his mother just behind them. Reina had no choice but to follow.

“Galien. . .”

“Will be along,” his mother said, whispering something to a young maid. Despite the hour, the hall was well-lit with wall torches and lanterns. As they entered the great hall, Reina’s eyes drifted to the banners against the wall, behind the dais. On them, magnificent black stags woven into two royal blue banners hung. A stag and two crossed swords.

“Our clan’s crest,” the woman said. “I am Juliette, Galien’s mother. And this is his father, Toren.”

Not Lady Juliette. Or the chief. It was telling, the way his mother introduced herself.

“I am Reina,” she said, never having introduced herself that way before, using her given name with strangers. It felt most odd, and also, strangely comforting.

“I know,” his mother said. “Toren, tell Galien Lady Reina will take her meal in the chamber beside his own. That he might see her later.”