Chapter 51
Chapter
Fifty-One
HAVEN
“It’s my turn,” Remy said quietly, reaching for Grace as Zane prepared to mount his horse.
My turn. The words recalled Flynn claiming his “turn” to have me ride with him. But this was different. Remy wasn’t claiming Grace as property.
Remy settled Grace against his chest with surprising gentleness, adjusting his cloak to shield her from the wind. The baby made a soft sound and nestled closer to him.
Both Zane and Remy had refused my offer to carry the baby. I was disappointed, but a small part of me admitted they might be right. An experienced rider should carry her.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Talin.” For once, there was no snark in Remy’s voice.
A low branch swept toward us, and Remy immediately ducked, his free arm coming up to shield Grace from the icy pine needles.
The movement was automatic, protective—like he’d been guarding children his whole life.
“Careful, little one,” he murmured against her blanket. “Can’t have anything happening to you.”
With something tight in my chest loosening slightly, I considered that I might have been wrong about him—perhaps there was more to Remy than a gorgeous sneering face and inexplicable hostility. “Isn’t Talin a three-day ride?”
“Yes.” His voice was cool without being condescending. Progress. Grace was mellowing him.
“What will we feed the baby?” We’d strained the last of the oats in Zane’s saddlebag and given her the gruel. “Is there another town anywhere near here?”
Remy looked down at the baby before exchanging a loaded glance with Zane. “Takir. But it’s out of our way.”
“She’ll starve if we don’t find milk or gruel.” The words came out more sharply than I intended, but Grace was not a chubby baby. She was too tiny to miss three days of meals.
“Then we go to Takir.” Remy surprised me. I’d expected him to argue. Mainly because I was the one who’d asked. Maybe he cared more about Grace’s welfare than he did about thwarting me.
We rode, Remy holding Grace. If I had her in my arms, I’d be terrified of dropping her. But Remy made cantering down a snowy road while holding a baby in one arm look effortless.
Grace fussed as the wind picked up, her tiny cries cutting through the cold air. Without missing a beat, Remy adjusted his hold, doing his best to protect her from the cold and singing—actually singing—a low, soothing lullaby I’d never heard before. The baby quieted almost immediately.
This was the same man who’d mocked my every move? I rubbed my disbelieving eyes. Yet here he remained, comforting an orphaned child.
The wind swirled around us, blowing snow and erasing our tracks.
A woman appeared on the path ahead of us. She sat atop a white horse, wrapped in a white cloak. Her hair, as snowy as a basajaun’s, whipped around her pale face. Her features were austere, and her eyes were the color of ice chips. She watched as we approached.
“Friend or foe?” I asked Zane.
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The woman up ahead.” I pointed.
His brows furrowed. “Haven, there’s no one there.”
“Yes, there is. She’s dressed in white.”
Remy snorted, and my shoulders tightened, anticipating a snide remark about my sanity. “A trick of the light,” he said, gesturing toward the swirling snow.
“No trick,” I whispered fiercely, pulling my cloak tighter around me.
Zane shifted in his saddle, his horse stepping closer to mine. His brow creased with worry as he studied my face. “How long has it been since you slept, Haven?” His voice was gentle, concerned. “The mind can play tricks when we’re exhausted.”
I wasn’t seeing things because I was tired. The woman was real. I could see that plain as day. I could make out the intricate silver embroidery on her white cloak, the way her breath formed small clouds in the frigid air, and the frost clinging to her horse’s mane.
But Remy and Zane rode past her as if the path were empty, their eyes focused on nothing but the snowy trail stretching between the dark pines.
The woman’s thin lips curved faintly, an amused smile playing at their edges. She seemed to delight in their blindness. Or maybe it was my impending mental collapse that amused her.
She turned her horse and fell into step beside me.
“Gladys sends her regards,” she said, her voice icy.
I clenched my jaw. “Should’ve guessed. What do you want?”
Hearing my voice, Zane glanced over his shoulder. “You okay?”
He couldn’t see the woman. He couldn’t hear her either. It appeared as if I were talking to myself. I forced a bland smile. “Fine.”
“They’re going to think I’ve lost my mind.” Nothing brightened my day like a supernatural stalker who made me look like a lunatic.
She snapped her fingers; the sound was sharp to my ears, but Remy and Zane didn’t react. “There. They can’t hear you. Happy?”
“Not remotely.”
“Talin is that way.” The woman pointed west.
“We’re not going to Talin,” I replied coolly.
“Why not?”
“We need food for the baby.”
She arched a pale brow. “Destiny’s champion is not a nursemaid.”
“I do not let innocent children die when I can save them.”
The woman’s ice-chip eyes flickered with something that might have been … approval? But the expression vanished so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it. “What is one child weighed against fate’s plans for you?”
“Everything.” If Gladys and her minion would sacrifice Grace—my gaze flicked to Remy’s strong back—then we were at odds. “My destiny does not include allowing a baby to die from starvation.”
“One life to save many.” The woman riding next to me was as cold as her ice-chip eyes.
“I understand the math—the pragmatism—but if it were your child, would you make that trade?”
“The babe is not yours.”
“Funny how you dodge questions when they get uncomfortable. Almost like you know I’m right.”
A pale blush colored her snowy cheeks. “It would make the decision more difficult, but the argument stands. One life or many?”
I stared straight ahead.
She tapped her fingers against the pommel of her saddle, then sighed. “The child is not yours.”
“You already said that. Her mother is dead. Someone needs to fight for her. Obviously, it won’t be Gladys.”
“You’re needed in Talin.”
“Why?” I demanded. “What’s so important in Talin?”
“Your guards ride that way. If you’re not there when they arrive, they may not survive.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. The thought of them captured, hurt, or worse made my stomach twist painfully. I forced myself to remain calm. “They are grown men, fully capable of taking care of themselves.”
“They are also enemy soldiers. If they are caught …” The surrounding temperature seemed to drop. Frost began forming on Buttercup’s mane.
I swallowed the dread rising in my throat and shrugged. “That’s their choice.”
“They are bound to you by fate!” Her voice turned sharp, slicing through the wind like a blade.
Grace let out a soft cry as if sensing the tension in the air. Immediately, Remy’s posture shifted—his shoulders curving protectively around the baby. “Shh, sweetheart. You’re safe.”
The woman’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “You don’t want him?”
Gods help me, when he behaved like this, I was forced to reconsider my opinions. “No.”
She lifted her brows in disbelief. “And your handsome guards? You don’t want them either?”
Despite everything they’d done, I did want them. I hated that truth. Heat flooded my cheeks, and my hand itched to slap the smirk off her face. “Those four? They blew their chance when they let Drake whip me. Next question.”
“You’ve seen what they can mean to you?”
“Vividly.” Gladys’s vision pool didn’t pull any punches.
“They displease you?” Her tone was silk wrapped around steel. “Your heart races when I mention them. Your breath catches. Your body betrays you.”
Somehow, this stranger could see straight through me, and it made me want to scream. “They stood by while I was tortured.”
“They had their reasons, and they’ve tried to make amends.”
“Have they?” The words were bitter on my tongue.
“You use their transgressions as an excuse to guard your heart.” Again, she saw too clearly.
“I use their sins as a reminder of their callous disregard.” My left eye twitched. “Besides, I don’t want fate deciding my future.”
The woman’s horse moved closer, and the cold radiating from her made my teeth chatter. “You are Destiny’s champion. Perhaps those men are your reward.”
“I’d prefer safe homes for children, castrated rapists, and equality for women as my reward.”
“You don’t ask for much,” she said dryly.
“According to Gladys, I’ll face pain, suffering, and death. A better world seems like fair compensation.”
Her pale gaze drifted to Remy, who’d resumed singing softly to Grace.
“If I ever end up with anyone, it’ll be my choice. Thanks to fate’s intervention, I’ll always doubt their feelings,” I continued, my voice growing stronger. “Would any of them have chosen me?”
The woman muttered something about foolish, ungrateful girls, then her expression turned deadly serious. “You insist on protecting the baby, no matter the consequences? You won’t reconsider?”
“I do, and I won’t.”
“Your decision is final?” The air crackled with the force of her question, and Buttercup shied nervously.
“Yes.”
For an instant, the woman’s cold expression softened, and something like satisfaction crossed her pale features. “I figured as much. I’ll tell Gladys that I was right about you. You are worthy.”
“What does that mean?”
A branch cracked beneath the weight of the ice encasing it, and Buttercup danced at the sharp sound, requiring my entire focus.
When she calmed, I lifted my chin and checked on Zane and Remy and Grace.
As if he could feel my gaze, Zane looked over his shoulder.
I offered him a tight smile. I was fine. Even dandy. Having a conversation with a woman only I could see didn’t worry me in the slightest.
His brow creased with concern, and he slowed his horse. He intended to ride beside me.
“Worthy of what?” I asked quickly. “Right about me how?”
Silence answered me. The woman was gone.