CHAPTER 15
Cap
Stars were peeking through the bare branches when Cap and Margit reached the camp. Most of the tents were already up, but Jean-haut was still manipulating branches for the last few.
“Cap! I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it tonight.” Jean-haut’s voice boomed across the tiny clearing. “I see you’ve tamed our lively guest.”
As a host of chuckles followed this statement, Margit sat taller in the saddle, her green eyes blazing. “Let me down,” she hissed. “I can walk from here.”
Cap allowed himself a huff of amusement. “Yes, Your Highness,” he said smoothly. Her eyes widened, but he didn’t pause to wonder why.
Stepping around to Farrell’s right side, he set his hands on Margit’s waist and lifted her down from the horse. Her hands pressed into his shoulders for balance as her left leg slid across the saddle. Since it was dark, he didn’t bother turning his face while he set her feet gently on the ground.
The starlight that cast his face in shadows softened the angry lines of hers. Margit peeked up at him, her head tilted to the side in a shy gesture.
It wasn’t an effect of the dim light; her expression had mellowed. The left side of her mouth curled up. “Thank you.”
Her hands still rested on his shoulders, and for some reason, his were still on her waist.
What if General Valentin hadn’t sent her?
Suddenly, her smile twitched into a smirk. Her right hand darted sideways, snagging his hood. Cap jerked back and grabbed her wrist. The stubborn woman held on tight.
They struggled for a moment before he pried her fingers loose with his other hand. She wobbled, but he quickly steadied her. From a distance.
“Behave, or I won’t give you your cane,” he growled.
She smiled sweetly at him. “You wouldn’t do that. It would mean offering yourself as my support instead.”
“I’d make Rouge do it.”
“False again.” She lifted an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t force a disagreeable task on one of your people—”
“I’d make an exception,” he grumbled.
“—and withholding my cane would violate your outlaw honor.”
“She has you pegged, Cap,” Rouge laughed. Patting him on the shoulder, she stepped past and untied Margit’s cane from the saddle. “Go set up your tent; I’ll take care of Margit.”
He nodded in acknowledgment. “Thank you, Rouge.”
Jean-haut pointed out the spot for their tent, then adjusted the nearby branches with his magic. Cap was thankful for the cloudless night; the shadows cast by the moonlight were better for setting up tents than the darker ones from a center campfire.
The forester glanced up from the knot he was tying. “Now that we’re here, what do you think? Is this site far enough?”
To give himself time to think, Cap drove in a tent peg, then grabbed the next rope and pulled it taut. Quiet voices drifted over from their companions. Canvas shushing and a hammer sounding an irregular beat against the tent pegs melded into a peaceful backdrop, but Cap didn’t feel peaceful.
How far could the wind gryphon’s breeze travel? Were they still in its range? If the wielder sent it again while following today’s path, would he find them here?
The rope jumped under his hand, pulling free with a speed that stung his skin. Hissing in pain, he jumped to his feet and speared his friend with a glare. “How old are you?”
Jean-haut dropped his hands with a grin. “Twenty-four, last I checked. The same as you. Doesn’t mean I can’t tease a distracted friend.”
“If you have enough magic for that, you should save the boys some trouble and bring the firewood,” Cap grumbled, shaking out his hand.
“No thanks,” the forester returned with a smirk. “I’d rather poke the bear until you admit what’s bothering you. Is it Margit? I saw that embrace before you two dropped out of sight, not to mention that little scene after you arrived.”
“Then you know she was only making a play for my hood,” Cap replied in a controlled voice. He paused to search his memories of the day. “And that wasn’t an embrace – Margit lost her balance trying to remove my hood, and I caught her.”
Jean-haut gave a sage nod. “I see. Unrequited feelings do lead to the most pining.”
“Unre—Jean, I can’t even trust the woman. I do not have any kind of feelings for her!” Cap spluttered.
“You do!” his friend replied, delighted. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you flustered.”
Cap grabbed the rope and resumed fastening it. “No, I don’t,” he said firmly. “The absurdity of your assumption caught me off guard. When she isn’t acting like a teenager, she acts like a spoiled princess.”
“Is there a difference?”
Shaking his head, Cap continued, “She dresses like a noblewoman but doesn’t act like one. And she could tell me about Ralnoran nobility, but her knowledge seems limited to the last year or so. Regarding the other kingdoms, she could only tell me about Marielle and the Daric royalty.”
“No wonder she caught your interest.” Jean-haut’s smile shone through his voice as he finally made himself useful by tying another rope. “She’s a mystery, a puzzle.”
“You’re confusing me with my brother.” Finishing the knot, Cap moved on to the next. “I don’t mind them in books, but I’m not a fan in real life.”
Jean-haut chuckled. “All right, then. Perhaps our mystery woman has overbearing parents. Since they never let her travel, she hasn’t had the opportunity to meet anyone outside the kingdom. The Daric royalty are always popping over to Ralnor, so it makes sense she would have met them.”
“And they could have kept her at home while she was younger as well,” Cap murmured to himself. “It would fit with her reluctance to return.”
Unless it was all part of the story the General had asked her to feed him. Rouge was correct about his tendency to take in wounded strays. That, plus her knowledge of Old Amitian and Old Ralnoran...
No. He gave his head a little shake to clear it. The General would have to know Cap’s identity to send someone crafted to ensnare him. And if the General knew that, he wouldn’t need a spy to set a trap.
“See? You’re puzzling her out already,” Jean-haut said triumphantly. “I knew she had you distracted.”
“I wasn’t—” Cap sighed. “I was thinking about your question. Deciding whether this is a single night stay.”
“A likely story.” But even as he teased, Jean-haut finished the last tie-down and stepped closer so their voices wouldn’t carry. “So what have you decided?”
Cap stared out across the camp, his eyes unfocused as he considered. Rouge had started a small fire with the first of the branches that Tucker and the other boys had collected. Laurent sat next to her, fishing supplies out of a pack, and Adrien was tuning his violin.
Margit was the only injured member of their group, and she could ride Farrell again. Another day of travel wouldn’t hurt anyone.
“The possibility of the wind gryphon makes me nervous,” he finally admitted.
“I want to make sure we stay out of its reach. Also...” He trailed off.
A disturbing thread of uncertainty twined its way through his chest. “That kitchen maid, the one who swapped places with Daphne. I want to find out what she knows. Marielle said she’s still alive. ”
The forester nodded. “Working at Raoul’s family estate, if I remember correctly. Do you think she’ll be able to tell us more than Marielle?”
Marielle’s information was inconclusive. Cap wanted to believe the General’s protestations of innocence, despite their current enmity. A responsible ruler should hunt a notorious bandit.
But if the General had been involved with endangering and robbing the royal family, Cap needed to know.
“I’m sure that Daphne and Raoul questioned her,” he said, “but neither of them is very intimidating. And if the General is complicit, his interrogation is suspect.”
“No offense, Cap, but you’re not that intimidating, either,” Jean-haut grinned. “You scare people with your stoic face, but you’re really just a teddy bear.”
“I don’t scare people,” Cap replied mildly. He stiffened when a breeze fluttered the edge of his hood, but it felt normal. Releasing his tension with a slow breath, he added, “Not as myself, anyway. I think a bloodthirsty bandit and his loyal henchman might do the trick, though.”