Chapter twelve
I woke with a start, muscles protesting, head pounding, and my mouth feeling as if it had been stuffed with wool. By the gods, I needed a swig of wine. I tried to swallow, but there was no spit to spare. It took me three tries to force my eyes fully open, and even then, the world swam before me.
“Katreine?” The name scraped my throat raw.
No answer came, only the steady drip of water somewhere in the cave’s depths.
I pressed my palms into the cold stone and pushed myself into a sitting position, blinking hard against the fog still clinging to my thoughts.
The world spun, and I braced myself until it settled.
My plaid lay discarded at my side, the horse gone, and with it Katreine.
I rose too fast, bracing against the wall until the cave stopped spinning.
I then strapped on my sword and moved toward my horse, one truth settling heavily in my chest: I was afraid for Katreine, not for my prize.
I should have been furious with her, but instead all I could feel was reluctant admiration for her cleverness and a gnawing fear that she was out there alone, with men hunting her like prey.
I had no time to think about what it all meant.
But as I untethered my destrier and led him out of the cave, my thoughts raced.
I needed to find her, protect her, and still bring her to the king.
He had no intention of hurting her. I knew she feared being named a witch because of her extraordinary healing abilities, and likely because she’d been called unnatural before.
That fear was unfounded. She’d be safe at the king’s court, not threatened.
She’d be praised for her skills, not condemned.
And then I would win the prizes, which would finally give me something of my own, a place worthy of offering to a wife, a place worthy of offering her. I could then court Katreine, if she would ever trust me again.
I turned toward the forest, my mind already shifting into the sharp focus of a tracker.
I found her trail easily enough in the mud beyond the cave.
The horse was moving slowly, judging by how deeply the marks sank, likely because of the weather.
That was both good and bad. The weather would slow her and make her easier to catch up with, but it would also make it harder for her to know if someone like Siward was following her.
My stomach clenched. If Siward had already found her…
I pushed the thought away, but it circled back and hit me with a force that made me grunt.
If he’d taken her, if he’d hurt her, I’d rip his heart out with my bare hands.
The king’s reward meant nothing compared to her life.
And so be it. Some things were worth more than castles, names, or men’s respect.
Some people were worth the risk, worth the loss.
I followed Katreine’s trail further to ensure I had the lead I needed.
The drug was still working its way through my system, but I forced myself to focus, to read the mud as clearly as a map.
The mare’s stride was uneven here, and it looked as if the destrier had fallen.
My heart began to pound harder as I knelt, and an awful certainty took hold as I examined the patterns on the ground.
There were handprints and shoeprints, and the shoeprints led in a different direction from the horse. Katreine had abandoned her destrier.
I looked around immediately for the beast, but it was nowhere to be seen.
I stood and followed her footprints to where two trails met, and I froze, my blood turning to ice in my veins.
Horse hoof prints and another set of shoe prints, much larger than Katreine’s, were there, overlapping with hers.
I glanced around me, turning in circles, looking for and finding signs of a struggle.
There was a torn branch, and footprints intermingled, and then the smaller footprints, Katreine’s, disappeared as if she had been lifted off her feet.
The only prints that led away from the intersection were the horses, which headed toward Edinburgh.
It was Siward. All my instincts screamed this truth.
My hand closed around the hilt of my sword as I followed the horse’s path.
I wanted to ensure it stayed north for a span before I mounted my own horse and gave chase.
My pace quickened as the forest narrowed between ancient oaks whose roots broke the mud into uneven ridges.
Low branches whipped at my face, but I barely felt them, my eyes fixed on the ground, reading each mark, each sign with growing dread.
Then I saw my torn strip of plaid I’d given her to wipe away her tears. It was snagged on a bramble at knee level. I pulled it free with a curse. The fabric was wet with rain, but when I pressed it to my face, I could still smell her faint scent.
A few paces away, half-buried in the mud at the edge of a churned patch, lay the dark, narrow ribbon I’d noticed in her hair at the inn, and beside it the short length of twine knotted at her wrist. My throat tightened as I knelt to pick them up.
She’d deliberately left a trail for me. She knew I’d follow, because she was counting on me.
I closed my fist around the silky ribbon and rough twine.
Even captured and no doubt terrified, Katreine had been clever and cunning.
I mounted my destrier in one fluid motion, ignoring the protests of my drug-weakened muscles, and turned him toward Edinburgh.
Within a breath, we were in a full gallop, and I was ducking and weaving, driving myself and my beast at a dangerous pace.
But I could do nothing else. I had to get to her.
I had to save her. And then, and then I did not know. That decision would come later.
As I rode, I followed the trail of broken branches and trampled undergrowth deeper into the woods.
The ground rose, and the trees thinned as we climbed.
I leaned forward in the saddle, urging Kintok to go faster.
At the crest of the hill, I reined in, scanning the valley below for any sign of movement, any flash of color that might be Katreine’s cloak.
The valley was still, the trees dark and dripping.
Nothing moved but the wind in the leaves.
And then a scream, sharp and raw, tore through the quiet. Then another, higher this time, and then a bellow followed.
“Ye swine!”
I knew that voice. I’d heard it curse me, thank me, and whisper my name in the darkness of the room at the inn.
Another scream rang out, laced with terror. Something cold and vicious rose within me. “Siward!” I bellowed, the savagery of my tone ringing in my ears.
I drove my heels into the stallion’s flanks.
Mud flew from the horse’s sides as I batted at branches.
Another scream split the forest, shorter this time, cut off abruptly.
Black rage gripped me as I drew my sword, the blade hissing free.
The trees thinned ahead into a small clearing.
Movement flashed between the trunks, and I jerked at the sight of Siward bending over a struggling Katreine.
“Siward!” I yelled, thundering down the slope. Everything around me vanished beneath a single brutal truth. He had touched her. For that, I would kill him.