Gideon
was going mad.
He was eager to get back to court to deliver his reports to his father and to finally be able to bathe all of his body at once, instead of piece by piece with a rag and a bucket of water.
He itched to be back on the road, especially now that he discovered he still had his money pouch sewn into the lining of his cloak.
While Hara packed and repacked her traveling satchels with packets and clinking bottles, he used some of her paper and drew a map from his memory.
From there, he plotted the best routes on foot and by horseback, with the appropriate rest stops in between.
But he was restless for another reason.
Throughout the day, he had to force himself to tear his eyes away from Hara.
Ever since the night she’d dyed his hair, he was unable to stop imagining what might have happened if she hadn’t stepped away.
She’d been close enough that it would have been nothing for him to reach out and wrap his hands around her waist, tugging her forward onto his lap.
The warm, herbal scent coming off of her skin entered his mind and gave him nightmares of longing.
Now each time she was close, he would catch himself taking slow, deep inhales, as though to savor every precious pull of breath—precious because they had been warmed and perfumed by her skin.
He couldn’t help himself, feeling rather like a stallion that had caught the scent of a mare in heat.
It was all he could do to control the evidence of his arousal in the mornings, gritting his teeth and trying for the hundredth time not to imagine peeling off her homespun stockings to reveal her long legs.
Or, better yet, leaving them on and peeling away everything else.
This was ridiculous.
He was so starved for company that his herb-addled mind had decided to latch itself to the only person in the vicinity, who happened to be a dowdy hedgewitch.
It was the fact that she was off-limits, he told himself.
The forbidden had always been his weakness.
was reeling at the chance to leave the cottage and put this madness behind him.
He had to admit, the wound looked to be healing unbelievably well.
When he first saw it he thought that he would have disfiguring scars and a limp for the rest of his life.
Now, there were only pink indications where the teeth marks had been, and it only became sore at the end of the day.
But they could not be expected to walk the entire way to Montag.
He mentioned horses to Hara, and she had said.
“Horses are costly.”
He almost laughed.
“I have money.”
“What about inn fare? Do you have enough for both?”
“Yes,”
he said dryly. Did she think him some penny-pinching beggar? Would she ask if he had enough for food and ale next?
“Oh. Well, I think I could find some horses in the village,” she said.
thought that was the end of it, until the day before they were to depart when Hara came back up the lane with two short, fat donkeys in tow.
“What is this?” he said.
“Donkeys!”
she said.
“Aren’t they lovely? They were cheap, too. Here.”
She dropped eleven gold coins into his hand.
“They only wanted nine for the pair of them.”
“We need horses. Donkeys cannot gallop far distances.”
“They can trot rather quickly,”
said Hara.
“Besides, the most important thing is to keep off of your foot as much as possible for the journey.”
“But—”
he spluttered in indignation.
“I can’t be seen riding a donkey into the city.”
“I only saw one horse for sale in the village, but it was more costly than the two donkeys combined. So unless you’d prefer to steal some horses from the palace, you can go right ahead.”
didn’t fancy making an enemy of the Norwen Steward to join the Lenwen king in the hunt for his hide.
“Fine. We’ll keep to the side roads and I’ll steal some horses the first chance we get.”
Hara scowled at him. threw his hands up in exasperation.
“We’ll take these back and look at the horse—the singular horse for sale in this cluster of dung-streaked hovels. I’ll determine if it’s worth the coin.”
And so they made their way back to the pasture where Hara had bought the donkeys. With his darkened hair and walking stick, felt a scarf wound around the lower half of his face was more than enough of a disguise in the unlikely case any lawmen were about.
“Clare,”
Hara called out, and the woman who was rounding up sheep waved and made her way to the fence.
“Angharad, back again so soon? Something amiss?”
“We’re here to see about your horse,”
said Angharad.
“This traveler is hoping to buy it.”
“Oh,”
said the woman, eyeing warily.
“Yes, well, right this way. He’s in the stables. A fine dark stallion, very handsome breeding. Used to do a bit of horse breeding myself, but it’s ever so much work.”
The woman led them to stables and they peered into the stall she indicated. There was Ruteger, and was glad his scarf covered his mouth to hide the mix of fury and relief at seeing him here. He had been Harris’ charger, until that poisoning wench had taken him and ridden off into the forest. Somehow, he had made his way back here.
“Handsome, isn’t he?”
said Clare.
“How did you come by this stallion?”
he asked tersely.
“A couple in the village found him in the forest and brought him to me. No injuries, he was just hungry. I haven’t kept him for more than a month, but he’s eaten his weight in grain twice over. Would honestly do me a favor if you took him, so I’m willing to sell him for fifteen gold pieces.”
Loath as he was to buy back his own horse, the alternatives stood lowly and squat at his side, their dull eyes and coats made all the more inferior beside Ruteger’s satiny black coat. Ruteger was a giant, with a broad back and legs as thick as tree trunks. More than up to the task of bearing two riders. It was the obvious choice.
He nodded to Hara, and she turned to Clare.
“Might we do an exchange? You’ll get your donkeys back, and we’ll pay the difference for the horse?”
“Sold,”
said Clare.
“My children will be glad to have these boys back. They were rather like their pets.”
glared at Hara as he passed over the money, and Hara passed the reins.