Chapter 9
This was not fun. Ruby doubted she’d ever gotten up so early in her life. Not for school. Not for work. Not even the morning after she’d caught Daniel cheating and spent a sleepless night alternately swearing and weeping.
But Isla had shaken her awake long before her brain had so much as entertained the idea of waking, cheerful as a caffeinated sparrow. “Up, my friend! We’ll want to be moving before the mist worsens.”
Ruby groaned. “Why does mist matter?” she mumbled as she pushed herself groggily into a sitting position and dragged on her boots.
“Because men with bows and bad intentions love anything that will hide them.”
That woke Ruby up faster than any alarm clock.
She staggered out of the tent into a half-formed, dream-like world. A pale gray dawn shimmered through drifting fog, blurring the trees into vague shapes. Evan was already awake—of course he was—checking the wheels on the first wagon with quiet precision.
Isla nudged her. “That looks painful.”
Ruby blinked. “What?”
“The expression on yer face. Are ye worrying about bandits?”
Ruby snorted. “I’m worrying about everything.”
“Then stop.” Isla patted her arm. “All will be well, ye’ll see.”
Ruby had known Isla less than a day, but she already liked her. There was something open about her—something unscarred despite the harshness of the world she lived in. Ruby could use some of that grit right now.
The caravan was soon ready to move. Isla’s father strode up and down the line checking straps and buckles. The guards split into their usual pattern: some riding ahead, some ringing the wagons, the rest bringing up the rear.
Ruby climbed up beside Isla who was already seated on the bench, holding the reins. Evan didn’t join them. Instead, he took up position alongside the left flank of the train, expression tense and alert.
They moved out, and the road they took was wide and easy to begin with, rolling across the heathland in gentle undulations although the fog clung on grimly and visibility was poor.
They’d been traveling for perhaps a couple of hours when the road began to angle upward into colder, harsher terrain.
The air changed as they climbed, turning thinner, sharper, laced with the smell of stone and pine and the fog began to dissipate.
The horses’ breaths puffed out in white clouds.
Towards midmorning the caravan came upon a rocky stretch where the track narrowed sharply and Duncan raised a hand to slow the wagons.
“Stay close!” he called.
On one side, the terrain sloped up into jagged boulders.
On the other, it fell away in a steep embankment.
Ruby was no expert on such matters but even to her untrained eye it seemed a perfect place for an ambush.
The wagons pressed close together and their movement slowed to a crawl.
She glanced at Evan. He’d been quiet and aloof all morning and now he walked ahead of the caravan, eyes constantly scanning the terrain.
Then suddenly, she saw him tense. His shoulders stiffened, his hand dropped to the hilt of the knife at his belt, and his gaze cut sharply toward the ridge above them.
Duncan had noticed it too. “What is it?” the merchant called.
Evan didn’t answer immediately. He scanned the rocks. “Movement.”
Duncan rode towards Evan. “What do ye see?”
“Maybe nothing,” Evan replied. “Could just be a sheep.”
Ruby didn’t think he believed that.
Duncan barked orders and the guards drew weapons, tightening their ring around the caravan. Duncan called for everyone to keep moving.
Ruby’s gaze flicked from side to side, searching for whatever had alerted Evan. But she saw nothing except a hawk riding the thermals above.
Minutes stretched like hours. Twice more movement was spotted in the trees, once to their right and once behind.
But whatever it was, it came no closer, and the wagons emerged from the bottleneck into a wider, more open space with views all around.
A flat, featureless moor stretched in all directions. There was no sign of life.
Still, as they rumbled on through the open landscape, Evan’s vigilance didn’t ease one bit.
And neither did Ruby’s nerves.
EVAN DIDN’T LIKE THIS. He didn’t like the feeling of unseen eyes watching him. He didn’t like how exposed they were out on this open plain. And he especially did not like how everyone seemed to assume that the danger was past.
As soon as the wagons creaked back into open country, the guards relaxed into banter and even the horses seemed to plod with a lazy confidence that set his teeth on edge.
These people were too used to this road. Too used to thinking it belonged to them. Too used to thinking they were untouchable.
Evan knew better.
He moved closer to the line and walked beside the wagon where Ruby and Isla rode, his gaze flicking constantly between the horizon, the moorland, and the road behind. There was nothing in sight but that didn’t lessen his unease.
A cluster of guards behind him began a low, rhythmic work song, their voices carrying over the rattle of wheels. It was an old song—Evan recognized the cadence, though he’d never cared for the lyrics—and soon enough others joined in, Duncan up front humming along.
Evan didn’t join in. He glanced toward Ruby.
She sat stiffly on the wagon’s bench beside Isla, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were bone-white.
The breeze tugged loose strands of hair across her cheek, but she seemed not to notice.
Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, but not in the way of someone sightseeing.
In the way of someone scanning for threats.
He almost smiled. Good. She’s learning.
A gust of wind lifted dust from the road. The song around him rose in volume. Someone laughed.
And that was when Evan saw them.
Three figures on horseback crested a ridge ahead. Dark shapes against the gray-green scrub, riding slowly, but cutting a direct line toward the wagons.
Evan stopped. He felt his attention hone into a focus so sharp it felt like cold steel sliding into place.
He swung up onto the wagon’s step, ignoring Isla’s startled intake of breath, and stood atop the sacks to gain height and a clearer angle.
The riders dipped behind a fold in the land, then reappeared, moving with deliberate confidence.
He instinctively knew they were not travelers. Or farmers. Or anyone who might have a legitimate reason to be out here in the middle of nowhere.
“Damn it!” He jumped down and jogged to the front of the column, boots kicking up dust that had the guards yelling at him in annoyance.
Duncan sat astride his mare with the relaxed posture of a man who’d been on this road half his life. He turned at the sound of Evan’s approach, eyebrows rising.
“Problem, lad?”
“Three riders on the ridge. Coming this way.”
Duncan’s eyes flashed. “Where?”
Evan pointed. The merchant squinted into the distance. His jaw clenched—but to his credit, he didn’t panic. He nodded once, sharply, the way a man acknowledges weather turning foul.
“Ye have good eyes,” he murmured.
The sound of footsteps made Evan turn. Ruby stood behind him.
“There’s another group,” she said. “On the left. By those trees.”
Evan looked in that direction. Yes—there they were. Four riders shadowing the caravan from the far side, keeping to a broken line of stunted pines.
“Well spotted,” he muttered, surprised that Ruby had noticed something he hadn’t.
Duncan turned in his saddle and gave a series of commands. “Quietly,” he said under his breath. “No need to let our friends know we’ve noticed them.”
The guards dispersed, breaking into a prearranged formation, hands drifting toward sword hilts and pistols.
Isla slid off the wagon seat and hurried around the back. She began grabbing satchels and bags containing valuables—herbs, spices, coin—and pushing them into hidden compartments beneath the wagon’s bed.
“I want a weapon,” Ruby said.
Evan shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because ye’ll stay within the ring of guards. Where it’s safe.”
“Safe?” she snapped. “Nothing about this is safe! And if I’m going to be facing thieves or hooligans, I’d prefer doing it with a weapon in my hand, thank you very much.” She glared at him, refusing to back down. And in that moment she looked fierce. Beautiful.
Finally, he reached beneath his cloak, withdrew a small sheathed knife, and held it out.
“Do ye even know how to use that?” he asked gruffly. “Actually, dinna answer that. Just stay close to the wagons and dinna do anything stupid.”
“Same to you,” she shot back.
Duncan’s voice cut through the morning air. “Hold!”
The caravan rolled to a stop.
The riders on both sides began to descend the slopes toward them.
Evan stepped forward instinctively, placing himself between Ruby and the threat.
The guards closed in, forming a ring of steel around the wagons.
The first group of riders approached, while the second group hung back.
Their leader rode ahead, a broad-shouldered brute with scarred knuckles and a smug smirk.
From their rough clothing, mismatched weapons, and greasy hair, it was clear these men had been living in the wild for some time. Bandits then, not MacInnes’ men. Evan should have felt relief at that, but he didn’t. These men were desperate and desperation made people unpredictable. Dangerous.
The leader halted a few paces away and called out, “Good morning to ye, friends! Roads are dangerous these days. Fortunate for ye we’re here to offer protection, eh?”
“Get out of our way,” Duncan called. “We aren’t interested in yer protection.”
The bandit grinned. “Ah, but ye havenae heard the terms yet.”
“And nor do I need to.”
“That so?” The man’s smile widened. “How strange. We’ve taken payments from this caravan before. I thought ye knew the rules.”
Duncan squinted at the man and his lips twisted in distaste. “Talbot. I didnae recognize yer ugly face for a minute. I thought ye’d been hanged.”
Talbot gave an elaborate bow. “As ye can see, tales of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.”
Evan walked forward and stopped a few paces from Talbot. “Ye should leave now,” he said softly. “This is not a good idea.”
The bandits bristled and he heard the sound of weapons being drawn. But he didn’t take his gaze from Talbot.
The bandit leader snorted and swung down from his horse, swaggering toward Evan. “Listen here, pretty boy—”
He never finished the sentence. Evan moved, drawing twin blades. Steel flashed. Two quick strikes—clean, precise, and Talbot collapsed with a scream as both hamstrings gave way, blood spilling into the dust.
“I willnae say it again,” Evan hissed. “Leave. Now.”
The bandits, overconfident just a moment before, now looked at each other warily. They had clearly thought this would be easy: collect coin from a merchant unwilling to risk a fight and be on their way with no blood spilled.
Evan could see them quickly reassessing the situation: the number of guards, whether the gain was worth the risk of a skirmish. With their leader already down, they seemed to decide it wasn’t.
Two men dismounted and dragged their screaming leader away, slinging him into his saddle. Then the men spurred their horses and within seconds, the entire group was fleeing back toward the ridge.
Around Evan, the guards murmured at his display and Duncan gave a grunt of appreciation. “Are ye sure ye dinna want to hire on as a guard? We could use someone with those skills.”
Evan didn’t reply. He turned to find Ruby watching him, gripping her knife with white-knuckled force,
“Are you...are you all right?” she asked.
“Fine,” he replied, stooping to wipe his bloodied blades on the grass. “I dinna think they’ll come back now they’ve learned we are no easy pickings.”
She nodded, her shoulders sagging, and held out the knife he’d given her.
“Keep it,” he said. “And mayhap I’ll teach ye how to use it.”
She blinked in surprise. “Really? Okay. I’d like that.”
He nodded once and strode away to check the wagons.