Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“ W hat is it?” Freya asked, the words catching in her throat as she grabbed Nathan by the shoulders, giving him a gentle shake. Something had come over him—something had rattled him, and Freya doubted it had anything to do with the men he had just maimed and killed, considering that they had both been quite certain of his past life as a warrior. Surely, a man like Nathan had to have seen plenty of death, just like Freya had. If she wasn’t rattled by the sight, then it was unlikely that he would be.
And yet, as she watched him it was clear that something had shifted within him, something that she couldn’t quite recognize. His eyes were wide, his breath shallow; the skin of his face seemed to pale under the meagre gray sunlight that reached them in the woods, through the branches and the clouds that covered the sun. His hands, where they hung by his hips, were trembling.
Freya had never seen him so rattled before, and she never thought she would.
“We must leave,” said Nathan without providing any other explanation. “We must leave immediately. It isnae safe here.”
Freya watched him as he grabbed her horse and stomped his way back towards the main path. She hesitated, but there was no stopping him. Even when he must have known she wasn’t following him, he pushed through, guiding the horse swiftly back.
Having no choice but to follow, Freya rushed after him, the words tumbling past her lips before she could help it.
“What is the danger?” she asked, her heart beating thunderously in her chest. In the time she had known him, Nathan had been a pillar of strength and calm. Never before had Freya seen him frightened, not even in the face of immediate danger, and so whatever he perceived as danger now had to be much worse than anything they had already encountered on their way. “Nathan! Stop! Tell me what’s wrong.”
Nathan came to a sudden halt, his head whipping around to look at her. At first, Freya thought he was furious with her, though she could not claim to know why. But the more she looked at him as he stood there in silence, the more she realized it was not fury she saw in his gaze. It was a haunted look he gave her, one that sent an unpleasant chill down her spine.
“I’ll tell ye everything,” he promised. “But we must leave. I’m asking ye to trust me.”
What other choice did Freya have? With the frantic way Nathan gathered all their belongings and their horses, forcing her on her saddle so they could keep riding, there was nothing she could do but follow him, trying her best to not lose track of him through the forest as the sun began to set in the horizon, plunging the world first in a blazing orange glow and then in near total darkness.
Even as the sun set, Nathan didn’t stop riding. The cold wind whipped Freya’s face, chilling her to the bone even through her clothes. The sparse light of the moon was the only thing that illuminated their way, and it was hardly sufficient in unfamiliar lands.
Or are they unfamiliar only tae me?
There was a suspicion at the back of Freya’s mind that Nathan knew precisely where he was going now. There was an urgent energy to him which spoke of him having a certain destination in mind, one that was much more concrete and real than the general direction they had been following all this time.
Had he remembered something? Had the fight with the men or perhaps his surroundings triggered something within him?
No matter how much Freya wanted to pester him, Nathan would not slow down even for a moment as they rode through the night, and so she could hardly ask him everything she wanted to know. She would have to shout for her voice to be heard over the wind that rushed past them and with how insistent Nathan had been that they were in danger, she was reluctant to make a sound louder than a whisper. If she did, she feared she would suddenly bring the wrath of whoever was against them upon them immediately, even if it seemed to her that she and Nathan were the only ones on that road.
Besides, she had the growing suspicion that Nathan would not be pleased with her if she was too loud. Even as they rode, he looked around frantically, as if constantly trying to locate a threat.
It was only late that night, in the deep darkness of the woods that Nathan finally brought his horse to a halt.
He had little choice. Both their horses were exhausted and parched, their pace slowing down no matter how much effort she and Nathan put into making them move faster. They needed their rest, and so did Freya.
As Nathan dismounted his horse and went over to Freya to help her do the same, she grabbed his shoulder, fingers curling into the firm muscle there. This time, she wouldn’t let him slip away from her without an answer.
“Nathan… tell me the truth,” she said. “Please.”
She had nothing else to say to him. She didn’t want to beg, nor did she want to be a nuisance, but she thought she was entitled to an explanation. Not only had she followed Nathan all the way there, helping him search for his past, but she had also followed him through the night farther and farther from the only big town they had found.
Who knew what lurked in those woods? Who knew how much more they and their horses would last like this? Without a plan, they had little chance of finding what they wanted.
And without the truth, Freya couldn’t help him.
Nathan seemed to deflate under her hand, his shoulders sagging as if the only thing that was keeping him together was the speed of his horse and now he was fraying apart at the seams. Freya could hardly take seeing him like that. It pained her, but it also filled her with an uncertainty she hadn’t felt since he had woken up that day in her hut.
“I remember.”
That was all he said, his tone flat and emotionless. Nothing about him betrayed how he felt about it, and Freya didn’t know what to think either. She could only stand there and watch him, her mouth hanging open in shock.
There was so much she wanted to ask him. Had he remembered everything? Did he know who he was? What would happen now between them?
Did he have a family? Someone waiting for him back home?
A wife?
Freya dreaded the answer to that question and so she refrained from asking it. What she said instead was, “Everything?”
Slowly, Nathan nodded. His light brown strands fell into his eyes with the movement, and he pushed them back, revealing the frown between his brows. Freya saw him as if in slow motion, the world tilting around her, her vision tunneling.
She couldn’t afford to panic now. They had finally reached the point they had both been waiting for, for such a long time, and though Freya had been dreading it, she had never managed to be as selfish as to truly wish he would not remember.
He remembers everything now. This is what he wanted.
“Me name is James MacGregor,” he said.
He wasn’t her Nathan anymore; he was a stranger, a man she had never truly met.
She hoped that maybe the man she had known and the man standing in front of her were one and the same. Surely, not everything had changed. Surely, much of James was in Nathan, and so much of Nathan would be in James—or at least so she hoped. The thought of losing the man for whom she had come to care so deeply in the span of a single night was simply too much to bear and the moment it flashed through her mind, it cut her breath short and made her eyes sting with unshed tears.
“And who are ye, James MacGregor?” she forced herself to ask, the words barely audible as she spoke around the knot in her throat. “Who are ye, truly?”
“I am… someone who will be killed on sight if found in these lands,” said James. It wasn’t the kind of answer Freya wanted to hear. She wished he would have told her he was still the same man, that he would have reassured her he hadn’t changed, but instead, he had only managed to frighten her even more. “These are the lands of me enemies.”
“Ye have enemies?” was the only thing Freya could ask. Who was this James MacGregor? She had always known he had had a violent past, what with all the scars on his body, but she had never expected he would have so many enemies. If those were their lands, as he had told her, then that could only mean the entire clan that ruled the area was against him.
Were those men that had followed them part of that clan, she wondered? Was that why they had come after him?
And if that was the case, did it mean that they were still searching for him, even in that moment? What had he done to them to provide such a reaction?
“Aye,” was all James said before he took the reins of the two horses and walked past the first line of trees, towards the direction where Freya could hear rushing water. Reluctant to stay near the path on her own, she followed him through the woods, stepping over large, twisting roots and rocks, her feet sinking in muddy patches here and there.
The entire time, neither of them spoke. Freya had too much and too little to say all at once.
Their rest was brief; just enough for the horses to recuperate from the grueling ride and enough for Freya and James to have some water and a bite to eat from their reserves—some cheese and dried meat, along with an apple each. They ate in silence, with James reluctant to speak about his past or his identity to Freya.
More than anything, it was this reluctance which scared her. What was there in his past that he had to hide from her? Was it a woman? Was it a child, a family? Or was it something more sinister, like a crime?
No, that couldn’t be it, she thought. His gentleness wasn’t a result of the loss of his memories. No matter who he had been, no matter who he was now, he wasn’t a violent man. He was capable of violence, that much was certain; Freya had seen him kill a man with his bare hands not so long ago. And yet, she knew it was only because he had no other choice. The man before her was not someone who would kill just because he enjoyed it.
His manners and his clothes, even tattered as they were, didn’t speak of a thief either. Whoever James was, he was not a criminal.
So, what was it that he was hiding from her?
Whatever it was, perhaps he would tell her once they were not in danger anymore, she thought. All this time, he seemed ill at ease, stiff and always looking behind his shoulder. He could not truly rest, nor could he have a conversation with her about all this while they were trying to flee the enemy territory. Freya simply had to be patient, she told herself. She simply had to trust that he would soon reveal everything to her.
For two days, they rode with little rest. During that time, all he revealed to her was that he had been on a pilgrimage when his boat had sunk, leaving him stranded on the Isle of Rum and in Freya’s hut. Not a word was said about his family. Not a word was said about his distant past, and Freya didn’t push him, reminding herself to be patient.
It was only near the end of the second day that James finally decided to slow down. Once they reached a small clearing, he brought his horse to a halt and Freya came to a stop next to him, the two of them dismounting in silence.
“We are safe here,” he assured her as he led the horses to a patch of green grass where they could feed. “We’re out of enemy territory now.”
As relieved as Freya was to hear that the immediate danger had passed, she couldn’t bring herself to feel any joy. The last couple of days had left her cold and empty, forcing her to think about nothing other than survival. The moment she began to think about James and their future, she pushed those thoughts out of her mind. It was all she could do to stop herself from grabbing him by the shirt and yelling at him, demanding answers from him.
Give him time. He’ll tell me everything on his own.
It was a balmy afternoon. Freya sat under the shade of a large oak, resting her back against the large, rough trunk. Her stomach rumbled from hunger and her legs ached after so many hours in the saddle, but her physical exhaustion was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil she felt. Out of the two, she preferred the former. Nothing compared to the ache in her chest, the one that never seemed to go away no matter how much she told herself everything would be fine in the end.
Even if she wasn’t with James. Even if she had to navigate the rest of her life alone.
It had always been a possibility, after all, one that had been shoved deep into the crevasses of her mind.
“Ye can relax,” James assured her then as he returned, sitting on the ground near her so that they were facing each other. “Everything is fine now.”
Freya gave him a small, tight-lipped smile—all she could manage in that moment. And though she found it impossible, she desperately wanted to believe him.