CHAPTER 18 #2
“You’ll stay there and keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you,” he heard Jean-haut growl at Nathalie. Then Cap was swinging himself onto Farrell’s back and his friend was closing the trees behind them as he raced to join him.
“Cap,” Jean-haut tried again as they trotted through the trees. “Cap, she didn’t say the General did it. We still don’t know for sure.”
Releasing a bitter laugh, Cap replied, “Don’t we? You’ve been trying to convince me for months, Jean. Why change your tune now?”
The forester urged his horse next to Farrell. “I’m not. I still believe he did it. But we don’t have proof yet, Cap. You need to stop looking like you’re going to murder someone.”
“You can’t see my face.”
“I don’t have to.” He could hear the concern in his friend’s voice. “It’s written in every line of your body.”
Closing his eyes, Cap inhaled deeply. He needed to get a grip on himself.
“I’ve never seen you like this,” Jean-haut said quietly. “Do you...want to talk about it?”
“No.” Talking wasn’t his thing.
Opening his eyes, he spurred Farrell forward. The horse dodged around trees, leaping over thicker underbrush. Cap released the reins, drew an arrow from his quiver and his bow from his back, and buried an arrow deep in a tree trunk. He shot another, then another.
He knew he shouldn’t be wasting arrows. Shouldn’t be running his horse so hard through a wooded area when they weren’t being pursued.
But he could think of no other way to ease the pounding in his veins.
The betrayal he felt was overwhelming. He had trusted General Valentin, believed in him. Admired him. Respected him. General Valentin had been King Antoine’s most trusted official, and Cap had fully supported it.
And the General had used that trust to murder his king and place the blame on someone else.
Cap’s friends had been telling him for months that General Valentin was at fault. Months! And like a fool, he had brushed their warnings aside.
What else had he been wrong about?
Stuffing his arrow back into the quiver, Cap picked up the reins and slowed Farrell to a more reasonable pace.
He pulled off his confounded hood and let his head fall back, enjoying the feel of the thin sunshine on his face.
It was a risk since he was still in the Lancée forests.
But they had been deserted on his way in, and Margit’s presence would require his hood once they reached camp.
With all the turmoil in his soul, he needed a few unfettered moments.
The tension leached out and was replaced with uncertainty. If he’d been wrong about General Valentin, could he trust his judgment in other areas?
He heard hoofbeats behind him. Without lowering his head, he asked, “Am I a fool, Jean?”
“For lowering your hood in a place where you’re likely to be recognized?” his friend replied with a light voice. “Perhaps. For trusting someone who proved untrustworthy?”
Cap finally looked at his friend, desperate for his answer.
Jean-haut met his eyes. “No. He made himself appear trustworthy. I used to believe he was.”
“But you saw through him.”
Smiling sadly, the forester replied, “Only because I wasn’t as close to him. It’s easier for those on the outside to see the warning signs.”
“But I was closer,” Cap protested. “I saw more. What does it say about me, that I couldn’t piece it together?”
“It means you cared.” Jean-haut looked him firmly in the eye. “You cared about him, so you were willing to overlook his mistakes. You didn’t pile them up and keep watch over them.”
“Maybe I should have,” Cap muttered under his breath.
“No.” Jean-haut’s reply was sharp. “Keeping a record of wrongs will only hurt a relationship.” He smirked. “But maybe pay more attention next time your friends try to point out something that worries them.”
Snorting, Cap pulled his hood back over his face. “I suppose I could do that.”
They rode in silence for a few minutes. Cap was mapping out the shortest way back to camp when Jean-haut spoke again. “Speaking of trust and the advice of friends...”
A grin tugged at Cap’s mouth. “Yes, Jean-haut? What sage counsel do you have for me?”
His friend laughed. “Perhaps not sage. But I do have a suggestion.” He paused before continuing more seriously.
“I know it bothers you to wear your hood all the time. You wouldn’t have to if you would choose to trust Margit with that much.
You’re right, there is something odd about her story.
But I don’t think she’s working for the General. ”
Trust the stranger in their midst? Right after learning that he had been wrong to trust General Valentin?
He wanted to. But he wasn’t sure he should.
~
The sound of a violin and a delicate female voice drifted through the trees toward them. Cap relaxed in his saddle, relieved his little family was where he’d left them. No trouble had found them in his absence.
Or at least, no trouble that they had recognized.
Dusk had fallen, making it difficult to see the way. But before long, he could see the flicker of the campfire through the trees. A rowdy chorus joined Alanna’s voice for the refrain, then fell silent again to listen.
“Sounds like they really missed us,” Jean-haut quipped. “Listen to that misery.”
“Yes,” Cap murmured, “So woe-filled they haven’t even set a sentry.”
A dark form suddenly appeared in front of them, spooking Farrell. Cap whipped out his bow, but then the figure spoke. “State your name and purpose in these parts.”
Cap lowered his bow while Jean-haut released an exasperated breath. “You know who we are, Laurent. You heard us talking.”
“I heard Cap complain that I wasn’t doing my job,” Laurent replied with a hint of amusement. “He clearly wanted to be challenged.”
“Thank you, Laurent,” Cap said gravely. “Your dedication is admirable.”
Laurent walked ahead of them into camp. “No need to butter me up, Cap. I’ll share my venison either way.”
As he always did on his return, Cap scanned the group around the campfire. He checked each familiar face, reassuring himself that they were all there and well.
“Where’s Margit?” he asked as he swung down from the saddle. “I assume Tucker is watching the other approach, but she isn’t cleared for guard duty.”
“Guard duty?” Laurent scoffed. “I should think not.” Gesturing to the far end of camp, he said, “She left the circle a little while after the singing started. Don’t worry, I’ve been keeping an eye on her so she can’t run off.”
Unlikely given her ankle, but Cap appreciated the vigilance.
He gave the young man a nod. “Thank you, Laurent.”
After caring for their horses, Jean-haut headed for the fire, but Cap hesitated. Margit sat on the ground with her back against a tree trunk, her knees pulled up to her chest. It was hard to tell in the dying light, but he thought her forehead was resting on her knees.
It was a very lonely position.
“Are you coming?”
Pulling his gaze from her, he saw that he’d lagged behind. Jean-haut was watching him with an expectant expression.
Cap looked across the clearing again. “In a minute. I want to check on Margit.”
“Need to make sure she isn’t plotting our ruin?” the forester joked.
“No.” He waved a hand toward the fire. “Go on; learn some new songs for the next time we see Marielle. You know how she talks about listening to her singing cousin.”
Jean-haut sighed. “From the way she talks, I doubt I can measure up. But singing for his lady worked for Prince Axel, right?”
“I’ve heard him make that claim.” Cap shrugged. “But Marielle brought back some interesting tales about how he managed to marry a miller’s daughter.”
“But it can’t hurt, right?” Jean-haut asked, eyeing the group around the campfire with speculation.
“I wouldn’t recommend it for Laurent.” One corner of Cap’s mouth twitched up. “But you have a better voice than he does.”
“He would need more than a good voice to catch my sister’s attention.” Jean-haut raised his eyebrows at him, but Cap just stared back. He didn’t know what the young man lacked.
Shaking his head, Jean-haut turned toward the fire. “I’ll let you proceed with your wooing then, and I’ll prepare for mine.”
“I’m not—” Cap began in exasperation, but his friend was already gone. “Wooing,” he finished with a sigh.
He fingered the fletching on his arrows. Friends could be incredibly annoying sometimes.
Margit didn’t look up when Cap stopped in front of her. Adjusting his sword and quiver, he settled onto the ground by her side, then leaned back to enjoy the music. It wasn’t loud enough to cover the sound of his approach, so she must know he was there. Unless she was asleep?
“Go away, Rouge,” Margit mumbled after a moment. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Was her voice muffled from her knees? Or from unshed tears?
“That’s fine. Do you mind if I stay?”
Her head flew up. “Capuchon! You’re back.”
He shrugged in silent acknowledgment of the obvious. “Laurent said you weren’t feeling very social.”
“He would notice,” she scoffed, sending a glare in his direction. “He still thinks I’m the enemy.” Glancing over at Cap, she added, “But then, I guess you do, too.”
He wasn’t sure what he thought. Especially after speaking with Nathalie.
“I don’t know why I missed you,” she muttered, looking away. “Ruhig wie immer.”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk.” He said the words softly, allowing her the choice of whether she wanted to hear them.
She looked at him in surprise. Narrowing her eyes, she examined him. He didn’t know what she was looking for since his face was doubly hidden by his cloak and the night. “That’s right. I don’t.”
He nodded, and they dropped into silence.
“The singing reminded me of my brother,” she admitted after a few minutes. Wrapping her arms around her bent legs, she leaned forward and stared sightlessly at the group around the campfire. “He’s never happier than when he’s in the music room.”
It was the first information she’d volunteered about her family. Not wanting to frighten her back into silence, he kept his voice disaffected. “You miss him.”
“Yes.” She settled her chin on her knees. “He was one of few bright spots in my childhood, him and Michael. No one looked forward to his monthly visits more.” She snorted. “Except maybe Katy.”
“He didn’t live with you?”
Margit shook her head. “Not back then.”
But he did now?
“Why doesn’t anyone want me?” she whispered, melting sideways. Cap froze when her shoulder came to rest against his arm. “Michael is married, Luther wants my title, Tobias wants my best friend. I give my parents a headache because I’m not enough of a lady.”
“What about your brother?”
“Careful, Capuchon,” she chuckled sadly. “Someone might think you care about the spy.”
He didn’t know what to do with the names she’d rattled off. Suitors? Friends? Men she wished were suitors?
Did it matter? He was only interested in finding out the truth about her.
Wasn’t he?
She rolled her head onto his shoulder and looked up at him, the firelight reflecting off tear trails on her cheeks. “Even you don’t want me. And you’re an outlaw who collects strays.”
He should say something. He needed his snap judgment to come up with a response, but that depended on what he thought about her. And he still hadn’t decided.
Margit blinked, and two large tears spilled over and ran down her face.
Cap’s heart sped up with the precursor to panic. He didn’t even know what to do when his sister cried. He had no idea how to handle tears from a woman he’d known for two weeks.
Gulping, he said, “I don’t not want you.” That was neutral, right? Accurate either way?
“Don’t lie.” She pushed away from him and settled back against the tree trunk, oblivious to his relief at the distance. “I make you uncomfortable.”
Or maybe not so oblivious.
“Why do you think that?” he tried, fingering the fletching on his arrows.
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t trust me, but you can’t get rid of me. You don’t touch people, but I need help getting around and keep falling into your arms.” Raising an eyebrow in challenge, she poked him in the shoulder. He suppressed the urge to dodge. “It must be driving you crazy.”
Possibly. For multiple reasons.
“You wear your hood up constantly because I’m here, but you would rather leave it down.” One side of her mouth curled up in a smirk. “And you hate it when I try to help with that.”
Her hand shot out, and he threw himself backward. Snagging her wrist, he held her away from his hood. They struggled for a few moments, but she had no hope of overcoming him.
So why did she keep trying? Did she hope to catch him off guard and pull it off before he could stop her?
Whatever her reason, it had dried her tears. She was smiling when she finally stopped fighting.
“Come on.” Cap rose to his feet, pulling her with him. “You look like you’re over your homesickness.”
“I wasn’t homesick,” she protested, bending down to pick up her cane. As soon as she was steady, he released her wrist. “I was just...”
“Missing your brother?” Cap suggested with a raised eyebrow she couldn’t see.
“Remembering the reasons I won’t go back,” she corrected fiercely as she hobbled toward the fire. “No one may want me, but at least here, no one wants to use me.”
Cap’s mind curled around his new pieces of the puzzle as he trailed behind her. He understood how a young, titled woman could feel as if those around her wanted something from her instead of wanting her for herself. But who was trying to use her? Someone back home?
Or General Valentin?