Chapter 19
My stomach twists as we near the edge of the Dresden camp.
So many thoughts battle for my attention.
‘I need to get back to the compound.’ They’re the first words I’ve spoken since we made our retreat.
Even shucking my vagabond jacket and hood and stuffing them under a log was something we did wordlessly.
‘Soren will launch a search for the thief.’ A female thief.
‘Any minute he’ll sound the alarm; that’s protocol. ’
I think of Brother Thomas – should I warn him? No, he’s always prepared for a search. And I was going to surprise him with the new supplies, so it’s not like he was expecting a delivery.
Then there’s Ryland. I glance at the man beside me.
Why did he help me?
What he did could have consequences for him and his deal with Atlas.
‘Can it wait?’ Ryland asks. ‘We should lie low. Clean you up first. Then I’ll take you back on my horse.’
Reluctantly, I admit that’s probably best. I’m a mess. Besides my ankle, my arms and knees burn with scrapes, and I’m almost certain I’m bleeding from my scalp. ‘I suppose I can wait until I hear the alarm.’
‘I doubt Soren will even report it,’ he continues, keeping his voice down. ‘Doesn’t seem like the type to announce that he failed at his job.’
‘That actually sounds exactly like Soren. He and Petronis are probably scouring the forest for the thief right now.’
I can finally see a bit of Ryland’s profile as we walk.
We remain in the trees, skirting the Dresden homes, but the firepits and scattered lanterns from the centre give off a bit of light.
The muscles in Ryland’s jaw clench, distracting me for a moment.
I follow the strong lines of his neck down to the hooded cape he’s wearing – something I’ve never seen on him before.
What was he doing tonight before he came upon me?
‘If you’re good with it, my tent isn’t far from here.’
Suddenly, it’s like I’ve swallowed a fish and now it’s flopping around, slapping my ribs. Mere hours ago, I was running from Ryland after supper, pretending the way he looked at me wasn’t causing meteoric flashes of heat. Now, he’s escorting me to his tent to hide out.
Alone.
Relax. We can’t clean me up out in the open, and I’m blanking on an alternative plan. My brain has turned to wet sand, my thoughts nothing but clumps of crumbling questions and concerns. The adrenaline is crashing and my injuries are aching, especially my head.
How did Ryland find me?
At his camp, he greets his horse with a soft word. Then he lights a lantern using some flint from a hidden pocket. The sudden brightness makes me feel exposed. Dishevelled. I touch my ponytail and find it both lopsided and half falling out. I hope my clothes aren’t ripped.
Ryland bends to open the flimsy tent, and I eye the lock on the zip.
‘Nice security,’ I say with a small laugh. ‘A lock on fabric walls.’
He smirks as he opens it with a flick of his wrist. ‘It helps to know whether my gear has been tampered with.’
‘You’re a guest of the Commander. I doubt anyone would risk it.’
He holds open the door flap for me to enter, but as I pass him, he quietly murmurs, ‘You take on that kind of risk. Why wouldn’t they?’
‘Because they have much more to lose.’
He hands me the lantern, and it feels odd to climb into his space. I have to hunch over, and it grows immeasurably smaller once he joins me and zips the door closed. There’s only his bedding and a full saddlebag near the door that he keeps packed and ready to leave.
He’s temporary.
He nods at the bedroll. ‘Have a seat. I should look at your ankle and check your head.’
After dimming the lantern, he undresses, first removing his quiver and bow. Then his hooded cloak. His shirt rises up slightly, revealing a ridge of firm muscle and skin.
I glance away until he settles beside me, and I feel him staring at the side of my face.
‘Thank you,’ I say, slowly lifting my gaze to him. ‘For stepping in.’
He focuses on my left eye, before moving to the right, just like he did during our staring game, and it has the same effect – the feeling as if he’s dragged hot fingers over my skin. There’s something so intimate about it. So intentionally careful.
Tingles spark inside me, as an energy fills the tent.
He lifts his hand to my cheek, tilting my face to inspect it. ‘Where does it hurt?’
Pain? I’m so distracted by his touch, I feel absolutely nothing other than fire and goosebumps spreading over my skin.
‘On your head?’ he asks, voice deep and gravelly. ‘Maybe let down your hair.’
I remove the tie and hiss at the sharp, throbbing pain that surges back. Gently, his fingers thread into my hair, parting it, then re-parting it in different places. He makes a variety of disapproving sounds at whatever he finds, while I do my best not to moan. Why does this feel so good?
I watch his studious expression. So serious.
I find myself drawn to that clenching muscle in his jaw again.
The strength of his neck adorned with a silver chain peeking out of his collar.
I wish I could see more of it and hear the story of why he never takes it off.
Once again, I notice his freshly shaved face, a rarity around here.
It wasn’t like that when he arrived in Notting, but this – I like that nothing is hiding him.
He frowns. ‘You’ve got some dried blood, but nothing that needs stitches. Still, that must have hurt. He got you good.’
‘And you got him.’
He grimaces. ‘Not nearly enough.’
I bow my head and exhale a laugh. ‘I … disagree. Soren was within his rights to defend his trailer and attack me. It’s literally his job.’
Ryland’s frown deepens.
‘Look, I know you have questions about why I’m stealing from Atlas, but I can’t answer them …
beyond saying I don’t do it for me.’ Ryland helped me, but I still barely know him.
It’d be foolish to trust him with names and details when it could put Lucky and Brother Thomas in danger.
Soren betraying me to Atlas taught me that lesson.
‘It was very kind of you to … help me the way you did, but you shouldn’t do that again.
I know the danger and I … prefer to raid alone. ’
Anger flashes on his face. ‘If you had been alone tonight –’
‘I would have been fine.’ I stare back defiantly.
‘I’m well-trained, and I would have fought Soren until I escaped.
’ These are the words I’ve lived by. Do I believe them?
Now, I’m not so sure. Tonight was humbling.
It showed me everything I’ve feared is very real.
But that doesn’t mean it’s a risk Ryland needs to share.
Multiple emotions pass over his face as he fights with himself. I’m sure he wants to argue that I’m being arrogant or overconfident, because no one can win every fight.
It’s only a matter of time before you’re caught.
My fingers start to tremble as I look away. ‘Do you think you were recognised? It would be bad if you were.’
‘And it wouldn’t be bad for you?’ The frustration in his voice grows. ‘Fine – don’t tell me who you’re helping; keep your secrets. But why is it only your job to risk everything on these raids?’
‘Because …’ I look down, shaking my head. He wouldn’t understand. Ryland’s probably never been forced to watch the people he cares about be punished because of him. So I tell him another reason. ‘Because he’s my father.’
And I’m so ashamed and angry at what he’s done.
There’s a beat of silence. Ryland’s face softens. ‘That is not your fault.’
‘That doesn’t change anyone’s reality.’
‘Have you ever considered … leaving?’ he asks. He tilts his head, eyes earnest. ‘You’re trained to fight, so you could defend yourself if you were travelling. There’s got to be somewhere you could go.’
‘A couple of years ago, my sister ran away with a Dresden boy. My sister, the one who can’t swing a sword or survive without a chamber pot, thought she’d go on the run around the badlands.
Soren helped me find her, but then he betrayed us to Atlas.
The boy was exiled. Agatha was badly beaten.
And to be honest, most of her punishment wasn’t because she ran away. ’
‘Marian, you left without telling me?’ Atlas yelled. ‘Without notifying your commander?’ He turned to Coatl. ‘Beat Agatha. Right here. And every time Marian so much as whimpers, add another lash.’
I swallow hard. ‘Much of Atlas’s success comes from using cruelty to manipulate others.
He’s figured out that he doesn’t have to hurt me to control me.
If I escaped, it’s the people I left behind who’d be punished.
And because of that, I’ll never leave.’ The truth bites at me, leaving me restless.
My gaze darts around. ‘It’s getting late, I should leave. ’
‘It’s only been minutes. And I still have to check your ankle.’ He pulls my foot into his lap and gently unlaces the boot.
‘Do you have training as a medic?’ I ask.
He grins. ‘I’m a soldier; we all undergo some form of medical training.’
There are so many questions about him that I’ve suppressed, and they surge to the surface. It’s clear he enjoys being a soldier, and I want to know why. How is his army different from the Notting Militia? And why did his settlement choose him to come in search of a coal deal?
Does he have a family?
Is there a girl he likes back home?
He’s single, he’d told Dezzy.
‘Does this hurt?’ he asks, delicately manipulating my ankle from side to side.
Then his fingers run along the side of my foot in a way that sends tingles racing up my leg.
‘No,’ I say breathless. ‘It was a zinger, but it’s better now.
It only hurts when I walk. It’ll probably be fine in a day or two.
’ I pull my leg back. But then I notice the blood on his knuckles. ‘Wait. Are you hurt?’
He opens his mouth to answer, but I shift and grab his hand, drawing it closer to examine. His breath stutters. ‘It’s nothing. Petronis got me with his torch.’
I study the broken skin. He’s right. It’s superficial. Still, I push up on to my knees and tilt his head the way he did for me, checking for injuries. ‘Are you hurt anywhere else?’
He goes quiet, allowing me to find the answers for myself.
I’m exactly where I want to be, he said tonight at dinner. Then he helped me during the raid, right when I needed him most.
I know I need to raid alone. But right now, I’m grateful I’m not alone. In a moment of weakness, I drag my fingertips down the curve of his cheekbone.
His hand rises to cover mine on his jaw, holding it there. Fire enters his eyes – as well as a question. A request. I answer by stretching my fingers, caressing more of his skin. My thumb slides over his full bottom lip. I pause there.
He kisses it.
I gasp as heat licks up my arm. My neck. Tension coils in my belly. How do I get him to do that to my lips?
‘Was that okay?’ he asks. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘I’m thinking … I’m jealous of my thumb.’
Ryland’s gaze drops to my lips, looking every bit like he’s going to kiss me.
And I would absolutely let him. The realisation has me moving.
Ryland leans in. I half climb into his lap, and he lifts me the rest of the way.
But despite our sudden urgency, we slow as our chests come together.
Everything feels magnified as his eyes study me, lips parted.
There’s something like awe on his face. It’s so intense it makes me nervous, yet the pull to him is growing seismically.
His strength supporting me is a nest of safety I haven’t felt in a long time.
I inhale – and saints, his scent of leather and fresh air smells so incredibly good.
Once again, I run my fingers over his cheek as our faces hover only inches apart, breathing each other’s air.
My heart feels like it’s about to come flying out of my chest, but I’m beginning to understand that I could wait hours – days – in his lap and that likely wouldn’t change.
I didn’t know this kind of alchemy was possible.
I lean in and kiss him, my lips brushing his in the softest –
A ragged scream rips through the air from somewhere outside. We both still, then quickly break apart. He dives for his weapons. I scramble to pull on my boot.
More panicked screams come, growing louder.
And they don’t stop.