Chapter 17
W ith each passing mile that the sky remained clear, I expected my captive’s expression to turn sheepish, or at least outwardly defiant. Instead, she cast increasingly urgent glances at the unencumbered sky.
Maybe the pressure was finally getting to her, and she was cracking under the strain.
Then I felt it, the barest shift in the atmosphere, a frigid stillness that crept in from the East.
I stole a glance at the princess—I was even thinking of her that way in my head now—to see that she was already looking at me, conveying none of the smarminess I might have expected. Instead, her features were drawn in concern, her eyes flashing bright with a warning.
We need to hurry , she seemed to be saying.
With a sharp nod, I called for the men to pick up the pace. Not one of them argued this time. They, too, knew what that shift in pressure meant. For all that we pushed ourselves, it still wasn’t fast enough when jagged hailstones rained down from the black sky.
If the horses had been any less trained, things could have gone badly, but my father had always taught me that a soldier was no better than his mount. At least, back when he was lucid enough to impart wisdom, and I was na?ve enough to listen.
He did know war, though, if a bit too well. So, our horses were chosen carefully and trained extensively. They didn’t falter in the rapidly worsening hail.
For that matter, neither did the princess. She shielded herself from the hail and sprang off of her horse the moment we stopped in the barn. I expected that stoicism from my men, but it was still jarring to see a lady head back out into the storm without a moment’s hesitation, making her way swiftly into the inn.
I hung behind until the majority of my men were inside, trusting Taras to see to the remaining few. He could determine whether it was safer to stay in the barn, but I wasn’t willing to lose track of my captive in this mayhem.
For better or for worse, she was mine for the time being, and it was my obligation to keep her safe. At least, until I decided otherwise.
Wind whipped around, picking up with an alarming intensity, the rain soaking us from every possible direction. I reached the inn and searched in vain for a riotous head of crimson hair, going still when I didn’t see the princess.
I had the irrational thought that the wind had carried her away entirely before I spotted her and realized she still had her hood on.
There she was, tiny and shivering by the meager fire, already having made her way to the center and safest part of the room. I got to her side just as Taras burst in, shutting the door behind him only seconds before the telltale sound of a cyclone thundered out.
The window farthest from us shattered with the impact, letting in several enormous hailstones while the roof gave an ominous groan.
A storm is coming soon. A dangerous one.
How the hell had she known that?
I studied her while she evaded a sliding ball of ice, wondering if everything I knew about Lochlann was wrong, or if she was hiding more than she let on.
She met my stare evenly, raising her eyebrows in the I told you so I had been expecting earlier.
“Oh look,” she deadpanned. “The weight of my feminine needs has broken the window.”
I sighed. At least she was an entertaining pet…
The minutes ticked by in an agonizing slowness while the storm raged on. It was easily the worst one I had been caught in this side of Bear territory, and I had to wonder how this tiny, wildling princess could have possibly seen it coming.
Had she actually studied this? Did Lochlann have more severe weather than I realized?
A few villagers heaved their way inside, barely managing to shut the door behind them as the wind howled in protest at its escaped victims. They were wounded and bleeding from the storm that had taken them by surprise, while we had been given ample warning.
After awhile, the princess’s shoulders eased, her eyes flickering skyward just a moment before the rain slowed to a steady, gentle patter.
It called forth a memory, one of her glancing up irritably only seconds before the sky broke out in a downpour. I had assumed she was rolling her eyes out of frustration at me, but now…
As if she’d heard the thought, the princess turned to face me, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth like I had caught her. But at what?
“An interest in the weather?” I demanded.
She cleared her throat, tilting her chin and squaring her shoulders. Clearly preparing to lie.
“Yes,” she insisted. “I mean, in addition to my urgent feminine needs, of course.”
I debated the merits of pressing her for more information.
We were safe now, in for a long night with nothing better to do. However, I had the distinct feeling that she would only answer my questions with more, increasingly ridiculous lies, and it wasn’t as if I would be able to believe her, anyway.
I trusted the things I could see, and that was all I really needed to know right now. And regardless of the how or the why, her foresight with the weather had saved me and my men.
“Of course,” I agreed, mentally adding this newfound skillset in with what I already knew of my captive. It would certainly make traveling easier, if nothing else. “Perhaps you’ll make a useful pet, after all.”
“One can dream,” she said with a false smile.
Despite her sarcasm, her shoulders eased a little more, as if she was relieved I wasn’t pushing her. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that, so I only filed her reaction away for later.
One more piece of a puzzle I shouldn’t care about solving.