Chapter Seventeen #2
Brian’s weary gaze lingered on her. “He told me enough,” he said. “Though you have denied he was the reason you would never consent to a betrothal, I always knew. Gage has simply confirmed it.”
Wynter looked at him with great remorse in her expression.
“I never meant to deliberately lie to you about it,” she said.
“It was simply that he had been gone for so long and I never thought he would return, so I saw no reason to give you the name of the man who stood between us. I did not want you hating Gage for something he could not help. Everything was my fault, Brian, truly. You must not blame him.”
Brian shook his head. “I never believed that you were deliberately lying to me, but that you were simply in denial,” he said.
“Wynter, we are speaking as friends now. Remember? You asked if we could be friends and I agreed. If that is the only way I can have you in my life, as a friend, then I will take it and be grateful for it. I will admit that I am disappointed, but it is simply something I shall have to overcome. I would rather have you for a friend than an enemy.”
Wynter smiled with relief, with gratitude, and reached out to gently squeeze his hand. “As would I,” she said. “You are truly a treasure, Brian. If I had a brother, I should like him to be just like you.”
Brian shook his head wryly. “That is not something I wish to hear coming out of your mouth where it pertains to me,” he said. “But, as I said, if that is the only way we can be part of one another’s lives, then so be it.”
Her smile faded. “As my brother, tell me how bad Gage is. Truly.”
Brian lifted his eyebrows. “Bad enough,” he said quietly. “We really must leave. I realize we will be riding at night, but I do not want to wait until morning. He may not… well, every moment is precious. You must trust me.”
He didn’t want to tell her that he didn’t think Gage would last the night, but he’d said enough that she knew.
He could tell by her expression that she understood.
In fact, his words seemed to fire Wynter’s sense of urgency.
If Brian was willing to risk night travel when the moon wasn’t too terribly bright, then things must be bad, indeed.
But at least they didn’t have the mist that had been so heavy as of late.
God had shown some mercy this night.
Without further thought, Wynter swung into action and prepared her palfrey swiftly.
Grabbing a cloak from a peg in the stable, a heavy oilcloth cloak that the stable servants used when the weather was poor, she donned the heavy cloak over the dark blue woolen garment she was wearing and pulled the hood low to make sure her face was covered.
With Etienne’s help, Brian and Wynter slipped through the postern gate of Ashleven on this cold, damp night.
Etienne offered to go with them, but Brian instructed him to remain behind should John begin to wonder where his daughter was.
Etienne was the only one who knew where she had gone.
Etienne reluctantly agreed, watching the two of them head off into the moonlit landscape, back the nearly thirty miles to Langley Castle.
He found himself praying that the weather held.
For Gage’s sake.
No man should have to die alone.
In fact, the weather did hold. For a land that had been so firmly entrenched in mist over the past few weeks, it was a strangely clear evening.
The moon provided some light, but it wasn’t ideal.
Brian led the way on his warhorse, a hearty beast who liked to stretch his legs, and they traveled one of the more well-used roads that headed southwest so the terrain was smoother.
It was difficult to see any holes in the road as they went, so they couldn’t go as fast as Brian would have liked.
A nearly thirty-mile trek would take most of the night, but they had no choice.
Onward, they went.
The land was relatively flat between Ashington and Septentrion, but the growth on the side of the road was heavy. Lots of greenery and bushy hedges, trees and the like. Nightbirds flew overhead as they went by. But those bushes were also a perfect place for men to hide for an ambush.
They hoped it didn’t come to that.
The night deepened and although the fog didn’t roll in from the sea, the moisture in the air was heavy.
Everything was slick, including the road.
Wynter’s cloak was covered with water, but fortunately the cloth was oiled so it didn’t soak through.
Her face, however, was damp and pinched from the cold and as the night wore on, she grew increasingly exhausted.
She wasn’t used to riding hard like this.
Near the village of Horsley, Brian finally came to a halt.
Wynter pulled up alongside him.
“What is it?” she asked. “Why did you stop?”
He pointed south. “Prudhoe Castle,” he said. “See it?”
The moon was lower in the sky now and there was a faint glow on the eastern horizon as dawn approached, but Wynter could see the pinpricks of light in the distance.
“I think so,” she said. “I see torches, I think.”
Brian nodded. “You do,” he said. “Prudhoe is a great ally of Gage’s cousin, Creed de Reyne. Creed used to serve there, from what I recall.”
Wynter looked at him. “Do you know Creed?”
Brian nodded. “A little,” he said. “Lord Hartlepool is a great man in these parts. In fact, this whole area is what they used to call the de Reyne dominion, a land dominated by a family that goes back centuries. De Luci and de Reyne have been allies for generations. We used to be… friends.”
Wynter was still looking at him, sensing regret in his tone. “It will be that way again,” she said. “Boothe is no longer in command of Septentrion. It will become your property now. And Gage… he will make a much better ally than his brother.”
Brian looked at her, impressed that she wasn’t breaking down in hysterics at the mention of Gage, considering what was waiting for her at Septentrion.
He admired her strength but he suspected, once she saw Gage, that the strength would waver.
Brian knew what he left behind at Septentrion; she did not.
Perhaps ignorance was best right now.
“He will,” he said, unwilling to elaborate. “But I would like to know where Boothe is. I wish your father had thrown him in the vault when he came to Ashleven. A wandering Boothe de Reyne is never a good thing.”
Wynter looked around the darkened landscape. “Do you think he is around here?”
Brian shrugged. “It is difficult to say,” he said.
“He received no help from your father, so Etienne said, so it’s possible that he has run to another ally, somewhere.
Or it’s equally possible he’s come back to his lands.
As I recall, there is a hunting lodge to the north that I seem to remember Gage’s father was fond of.
He took my father there on more than one occasion.
But I do not know anything about it other than it belongs to Boothe, so mayhap he has gone there to determine his next move. If there is a next move.”
Wynter didn’t like that thought. In fact, talk of Boothe was starting to upset her.
Without another word, she dug her heels into the sides of her horse and they both took off down the road again.
They were drawing closer to Septentrion now, perhaps less than an hour away, so time was of the essence.
More than they knew.
The eastern horizon continued to lighten as daybreak approached and it was easier to see the land around them now.
Brian knew they were getting close to Septentrion, passing through a crossroads and continuing through the same clusters of trees that his army had passed through several days ago.
Trees made him nervous, just like the bushes and high hedgerows had made him nervous since leaving Ashleven, because they could hide danger.
He would be glad when they got through them.
He needed to get Wynter to safety.
To Gage.
But that was his last coherent thought as two bolts plowed into his back, in rapid succession, with more missing both Wynter and the horses.
Wynter yelped with fear and horror, having seen both bolts go into Brian’s upper back as he rode slightly ahead of her.
As he slumped forward, she managed to slap his horse on the rear as hard as she could.
The big warhorse, frightened, leapt into a gallop as Wynter followed.
But she managed to look over her shoulder to see if they were being pursued and by the weak morning light, she swore she saw a man wearing the blue and yellow de Reyne tunic.
She would swear that until the day she died.
Wynter spent the rest of the harried ride to Septentrion trying to keep Brian from falling from his horse.