Chapter 12
“You’re an idiot.” Tilly shook her head. “I swear, Rowan, you see one pretty cock and the brains drop out of your head. It’s one thing to offer a man a bit of fun, another to risk your life for him.”
“I haven’t seen his cock.” She’d handed him a bucket when he was too ill to make it to the outhouse and otherwise tried very hard to ignore that part of his body.
“You have no excuse then,” Tilly snapped. “Why would you agree to this madness?”
Honestly, Rowan was still trying to figure that out herself. When her mother suggested she serve as his guide, she’d been swamped by a weird mix of anger, sympathy, and duty. She was still drowning in it. She gave Tilly an answer she’d understand.
“You saw the will. Track his men, lead him to the fort. Two hundred cord for a fortnight, everything he owns if he doesn’t come back.”
If she located his men, it was another two hundred on top of that. Enough money to change everything.
“He’s lucky he picked you as a guide,” Tilly said. “Anyone else would slit his throat and dump his body in the woods. Want me to send George with you?”
Tilly was only mostly harmless. Other times she was terrifyingly practical in a way that chilled Rowan to the bone. “I’m not going to kill him.”
Tilly rolled her eyes. “And what did your mother say about this? Sending her only child out to hunt a witch when she herself wears the brand?”
“She was the one who suggested the idea. She seems to think the captain is doing God’s work, and it’s our duty to help him. That God sent him to help us too. You know how she is.”
Tilly made a strangled noise. “An idiot too.”
They’d left her mother an hour ago, praying in her garden, to come here so George and Tilly could serve as witnesses to the last testament of Captain Casrian Dain.
They’d taken care of that first. If she was going to do this to save her mother, she wanted everything in writing.
In Toam, you wanted the money up front. In the city, they wrote everything down.
The witch hunter had looked at her like she was crazy when she told him Tilly and George were the most reliable people in town.
She didn’t argue as the old woman continued to berate her.
For the most part, she agreed with Tilly.
She was an idiot for agreeing to take a man she hated into the Black Woods to hunt a witch nesting at the heart of it.
But she couldn’t stay here for another winter, watching while her mother got sicker and sicker, with barely enough food, and the darkness in the woods creeping slowly toward their door.
She had to do this, not only for her mother, but for Tilly and George too.
For all of the people living at the edges of the kingdom with nowhere else to go.
If it was a witch making the woods sick, maybe if she helped the witch hunter kill it, then the woods could heal and Toam could survive.
“If it gets too bad,” she said, “I’ll leave him and get out.”
They weren’t friends. She had no illusions about that.
Tilly spread a square of cloth on the wooden table and started loading charms onto it.
“This one is to prevent her from scrying you. You don’t need to do anything with it, just keep it near you.
If you shove it into the bottom of your bags, that will be fine.
This one will hide your presence from any of her familiars.
And this one will repel mild attacks. If you see any Lorsan along the way, you’ll want to gather it up.
You won’t be able to make a potion out of it on the road, but even breathing in the scent of the flowers will help keep your head clear. ”
Rowan shook her head. Lorsan was considered good luck, but she didn’t see herself taking the time to gather flowers on this trip. “It’s too late in the season for Lorsan.”
“Keep an eye out. It’s good magic, though even Lorsan won’t help if she decides to throw the full force of her power behind an attack.” She dropped another charm onto the cloth, then knotted the corners closed.
“That last one is to stop a babe from planting. Even if you haven’t seen his cock yet, I saw the way he was looking at you this morning.”
“He looks at me like he thinks I’m a witch.”
Tilly snorted. “I saw the way you were looking at him too.”
Tilly was wrong. But she meant well, and Rowan wasn’t going to argue. She took the little bundle and shoved it into her bag. “How much do I owe you?”
The captain had given her a few coins to leave with her mother while they were gone. She could spare some for Tilly too.
“Nothing. If he manages to kill the witch, then it helps us all. Consider this my contribution to the cause.”
Tilly was gruff and coarse, but she’d been like a second mother to Rowan since she’d moved in down the road.
Tilly never gave her charms away for free, and here she’d done it twice in a week.
She was growing soft in her old age. On impulse, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Tilly’s neck.
Tilly stiffened for a second, then her arms came around Rowan and hugged her tight.
“You just come back to me, girl,” she said, her voice rougher than usual. “That’s what you owe me.”
“You’ll look after my mother while I’m gone?”
“Every day.”
She heard the witch hunter and George returning and stepped back. Tilly turned away from her to straighten her workspace, and Rowan swiped at her eyes before turning around.
George gave her a dirty look as he came back inside the house. “Horses are ready.”
“Thanks George.”
He waved aside her thanks, still sore that the witch hunter was claiming the horse he’d borrowed from the priest. She wasn’t happy about it either. She’d told the captain she didn’t know how to ride, but he seemed confident she’d get the hang of it.
She stepped outside to find the captain waiting beside the horses. The perfect king’s soldier. Jaw freshly shaved. Boots polished to a sheen. Eyes as sharp and bright as the sword at his hip.
“Ready?”
“Suppose so.”
“Let me take that.” He slid the bag from her shoulder and turned to secure it to the saddle. Her bow and a quiver of arrows had already been tied to the side.
“Your horse’s name is Copper,” he told her, holding out a hand. “Come on. I’ll help you up.”
Copper was slightly smaller than Kenzi, with a reddish-brown coat. He looked like a healthy enough animal, sturdy and well-fed, but she didn’t like the defiant look in his eyes.
She hesitated. “Are you sure we can’t just take the one horse?”
He shook his head. “Two riders would be too much of a burden for Kenzi for how far we need to travel.”
“I could walk.”
“Speed is important,” he said. “You’ll be fine. Copper is docile enough. He’ll follow Kenzi, and we’ll start slow. I’ll take the reins and lead you to start.”
Like a child.
She bit her lip, not wanting to look like a coward, but second-guessing this whole idea. Third-guessing? Fourth, at least.
She looked back to find George watching from the doorway, highly amused by the whole situation. She took the captain’s hand. She’d be damned if she let George laugh at her.
The witch hunter drew her forward, placed her palm against Copper’s heavy shoulder, and bent to grab the stirrup. “Left foot first.”
When she was set, he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her into the saddle as if she weighed nothing. The horse moved beneath her and she cried out, throwing herself forward to hang on for dear life.
The witch hunter murmured soothing words into Copper’s ear, then looked up at her.
“You’re scaring the horse. You need to relax.”
Great advice. She’d do that right away.
“Rowan?”
Shit.
She could do this. She started to straighten, but Copper shifted his feet and she let out an embarrassing squeak. She closed her eyes.
“Just sit up slowly,” the witch hunter said. “I’ve got him. You’re not going anywhere.”
She spat out horsehair and forced her fingers open. Her thighs tightened on the horse’s flank, and he took a step. She froze, but when he didn’t move any further, she settled her butt more firmly into the saddle.
“Hold on to the pommel,” the witch hunter directed.
“The what?” She hated feeling stupid.
“Here.” He guided her hands to a raised portion at the front of the saddle. She gripped it tightly and looked down at him.
She expected to see scorn on his face, the same mockery she could hear from George as he chortled behind her, but there was none of that, only an unflappable patience.
“You’ve got this,” he said, ignoring George. “Just relax and get a feel for how the horse moves under you. Move with him as much as you can. Ease up on your thighs. He’ll take any pressure as a direction to go faster.”
The muscles in her legs were rigid. The witch hunter would know that because his hand was resting on her thigh.
“I need to adjust the stirrups.”
He waited for her to nod before bending down to pull on the leather strap. When he was done, he placed her feet back in the stirrups. He grimaced and looked up at her. “Do you have sturdier boots?”
These ones were bad even by the standards of Toam. They were short. The leather was worn and the soles were thin. Her neck warmed. “No.”
A muscle tightened at the corner of his mouth, but he nodded. “They’ll have to do.”
He somehow managed to keep hold of her reins while he mounted Kenzi. “I’ll lead you until you feel ready to take the reins. Which way?”
Right. Her job. She was the guide.
She pointed up the lane, past the last house where the woods stood looming, dark and ominous even on this bright day.
She noted the way he moved in the saddle, using his knees to guide Kenzi onto the road.
Her horse followed behind before the reins had even gone taut.
The lurch of motion made her hands tighten their grip, but she tried not to let her body stiffen up again.
The captain looked back at her.
“I won’t let you fall.”
He said it like he meant it. She wanted to believe him, even though she knew he wouldn’t be able to catch her if Copper decided to throw her off.
Even though he was the last person in the world she should ever trust.
Tilly was right. She was an idiot.