Chapter 7
Robin squeezed her knees as tightly as she dared around the moving horse beneath her. The effort burned in her thighs, but she was used to discomfort and knew she could handle the effort for some time longer.
The alternative option was to stay stable by leaning all her weight against the man at her back. And she was not ready to do that.
She had been shocked to realize that noble they were raiding was Ian.
And that alone had roused her anxiety. But then, in the clearing, she had watched Ian’s carefully constructed composure crumble because he and Erich were talking about her.
The Ian she had known never got angry or let himself appear visibly frustrated.
Perhaps he had changed, but Erich’s snide remarks confirmed that Ian was truly overwhelmed by seeing her again.
She had not expected to have a reaction to his reaction. She had not expected him to have a reaction. He had been so cold to her on that morning so many years ago . . .
But according to Erich, Ian had been so affected by her leaving that he’d forbidden his brothers from speaking her name. The knowledge of that felt warm and confusing against the jagged pain in her heart at seeing him again.
And now that the energy-filled activity of the last few hours—fighting Gareth’s men, racing through the forest, and making a new plan with her band—was over, she had no barrier between her mind and the memories she wanted to forget.
The only thing she could focus on for the next two hours was the burn in her legs as she clung to the horse beneath her. And the two very familiar arms that wrapped around her.
Lost in the darkness, her mind replayed their last goodbye.
She had left early in the morning, saying goodbye to the family in the back courtyard before riding Humphrey out the side gate where Ian waited for a final moment alone with her.
He had not kissed her. He had simply wrapped her in his arms once more, his eyes strained and distant.
She had turned back, as she rode away, to see him once more.
He did not call out to her. He did not raise his hand in farewell. He stood, alone at the gate, looking small and cold in early dawn mist. He stood there and watched her ride out of his life.
They were both heartbroken. She had wanted more, but she understood. She had faced the road ahead of her and returned to Lockwood.
She’d been certain he would at least write to her. Surely, after the friendship and love that they shared, they would remain close to each other.
But the letters never came.
He had accepted his father’s decision and done nothing to fight back.
Perhaps that was what had hurt the most. It was clear that he had not agreed with King Frederich, but he had not asked his father to change his mind. He had not fought for her to stay.
Robin shifted her weight again, keeping her balance atop Rowena. She could not lean back on Ian for support.
The rest of the ride took place in uncomfortable silence.
Rowena plodded along with ease, not bothered by the darkness or the extra rider, or the light rain that dripped through the canopy of leaves overhead.
The trees thinned as they finally neared their destination, opening up to a large bay on the southern shore.
Despite the midnight hour, the port city ahead was alive with lights and activity.
This city did not revolve around the sun, rather it was awake when the tide was high and asleep when the tide was out.
Judging by the activity around them, the tide was in and ships were docking.
As Rowena entered the city streets, Robin reached forward, slipping her hands under Ian’s to take the reins from him. “Let me lead,” she said, though the words were not a request.
Ian relinquished control without a word. He had no idea where they were headed. But with his hands having nowhere to go, he simply kept them lightly gripped around the saddle in front of her.
Holding the reins, Robin guided Rowena through the cramped and muddy streets.
As heavy sea storms had ravaged the coastline over the last several seasons, sailors and villagers had fled to this city, protected as it was by the long peninsula between the bay and the ocean.
Unfortunately, the city had not had time to grow as quickly as its population had.
Robin led Rowena down side streets, past the main harbor, and deeper into the west neighborhood that rose over a rocky cliffside near the shore. She pulled Rowena to a stop outside a small, weathered inn. “Here,” she said, twisting back toward Ian.
He wordlessly took in the small stone building, sanded down by the salty winds and dripping with rain. It was likely not the type of establishment that a prince frequented. But he slid off Rowena without a complaint. His feet landed in the mud with a loud squelch.
He reached back up to help her dismount, but she shook her head. Gripping the front of the saddle, she swung her left leg over the horse’s back and gently lowered herself to the ground.
While it felt good to be off of the horse, her sore legs protested the act of holding her weight on their own. She gripped Rowena’s saddle for an extra moment as she stretched her legs.
Slipping her hand under Rowena’s head, Robin led the tired horse into the open stable next to the inn. “You deserve a good brushing,” she said to the large animal as she directed her into an empty stall. “Thank you for carrying both of us.”
Ian followed her, holding out a brush and blanket he must have picked up at the stable entrance.
Robin took the brush and ran it over the horse’s warm muscles as Ian used the blanket to wipe Rowena dry.
“Where to next?” Ian asked as he folded the blanket and draped it over the horse’s back.
“I am afraid to hope,” Robin replied, scraping the brush against the stall’s wall to clean it, “that you would remain here at this inn while I go to retrieve your sister from the agreed-upon meeting place?”
“Hah.” Ian shook his head. “That hope is useless.”
“It was worth the ask,” Robin replied, not surprised by his answer. She stepped out of the stall.
Ian followed. “Especially after the targeted attack we both just endured,” he said, “I will not sit here idly while she might be in danger. I did not come here with you to remain at an inn, as lovely as it appears to be.”
Robin smiled at his jest. “Where we are about to go,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “is the last place I can bring a member of the royal family.”
Ian stared at her for several moments, as though he could not comprehend her words.
They stood just inside the stable door. She did not want to move back into the rain until they had decided their next course of action.
“But Meena is a member of the royal family,” Ian finally said.
Robin bit her lower lip, holding in the words she needed to say, knowing that they would hurt their recipient. But also knowing they needed to be said. “I trust Meena.”
Ian’s thick, dark brows instantly knit together. But he nodded, as if accepting her words. “I see. Then how do you suggest we proceed?”
Relieved at his calm acceptance of her lack of trust in him, Robin answered readily. “You could remain here until I return with your sister, or you could come with me but wear a blindfold when I require it.”
Ian considered her request. “You are asking me to put my safety in your hands—to trust you—after you clearly told me that you do not have the same trust in me.”
Robin pulled her cloak more firmly around her, glad for the subtle magic that kept it dry despite the rain they had endured.
“Yes,” she started. “Well, no. It is not the same trust. I have proven to you over the last several hours that you can trust me with your life. If my intentions were to harm you, I would not have saved you from attackers and brought you into a well-populated town.”
“You also attempted, in the last several hours, to rob me of coin,” Ian said. “In fact, you succeeded in that.”
“Half of your coin,” Robin said. “And it was Erich’s coin, not yours. Besides, that was both harmless and necessary.”
“Necessary?” Ian asked, his voice incredulous.
“Yes,” Robin replied. “Erich did not need it. I know those who do. But we are wasting words. If you would stop interrupting me, I can return to my original point.”
“That I should trust you immediately after you declared that you do not trust me?” Ian said.
Robin appreciated that he had restated her point, but not that he had interrupted her again to do so.
“As I was saying,” she said, her voice picking up speed and volume to ensure she made her point, “it is a different kind of trust. I am asking you to trust me—again—with your physical safety. A task I have already proven capable of. It is not my physical safety I am hesitant to trust you with.”
She stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath. The wall of rain just outside the door felt like it was blocking her in. It would take some time yet to travel to the meeting place, and she was anxious to be moving again.
“My next location is a well-guarded secret,” Robin continued.
“And if you had the knowledge of it, it would conflict with your sense of justice as Crown Prince of Iseldis, and Captain of the Royal Army, and son of Frederich Sirilian.” Robin heard the way she had spat out the last few words, which were not actually a royal title, with more venom than she had intended, and she hoped Ian had not noticed.
She rushed forward to cover her anger. “The breaking of that kind of trust could put countless lives, both innocent and brave people, in danger.”
“I know that you are part of River’s Talon,” Ian said. “And I respect the work you have done to aid the Majis.”
“You know too much already,” Robin replied. “I cannot risk telling you more. Either you stay here at the inn, or you agree to a blindfold. Which option do you prefer?”
“Why the secrecy?” Ian replied, not answering her question. “You have worked with several members of my family, and we are now working toward the same goal.” He took a step closer. “Do you mean to simply disappear again after this?”
Robin hugged the cloak around herself tightly, holding her ground against the frantic note underlying his question. “I have no need of your help. After we find Meena, yes, I will go back to my own work and keep my secrets to myself and those I trust.”
“There is no need—” Ian said, reaching out his hands.
“Which option?” Robin cut him off.