Chapter 41
The small garden in front of Peter Cabril’s stone mansion was quiet and peaceful in the late evening light.
Ian relished the moment of calm after the panic they had witnessed a few hours prior.
He and Robin had immediately made their way to Lord Cabril’s small estate, where Aizel had been living since Gareth had taken over the castle.
The estate was close enough to the castle for Erich to visit his wife frequently, but far enough from the main city for Aizel to remain safely unseen by Gareth or any of his men who might recognize her as a Majis.
At the moment, Aizel was standing in a shadowy corner of the garden, her arms around the neck of her husband. Their voices were too low for Ian to hear what they were saying, though the wind occasionally carried over a word or two.
Ian shifted his weight on the saddle beneath him, eliciting a creak from the worn leather to cover any stray words.
Robin’s horse, saddled but empty, stood beside him.
The missing rider, sitting in front of Ian, let out an audible sigh.
“Give them a moment,” Ian said, leaning over Robin’s head to avoid looking as Erich leaned down to kiss his much shorter wife.
“I am not impatient,” Robin replied, tilting her head back toward him. “Just trying to cover the sound of their voices. It does not feel right to hear the details of their goodbye.”
Ian smiled. “I was thinking the same.” Though, in truth, he had been thinking far more than that. Holding Robin in his arms and watching the younger couple just behind the garden hedge . . . “We did it better than that.”
“What?” Robin’s response was high and quick, as though she knew the answer to her own question but wanted Ian to confirm it.
So he did. “Kissing in the garden shadows,” he whispered in her ear. He noted, with some surprise, that the memory of those kisses did not bring him the same pain that it once had. He also realized, with much less surprise, that it was a memory he would very much like to recreate.
The sound of approaching voices stopped him from also saying this thought out loud to Robin. Looking over his shoulder, Ian saw three men walking up the road toward them. He adjusted his hood to ensure that his face was in shadow.
The men were clearly heading toward the Cabril mansion, as it was the only house on the end of this road. Ian raised his hand in a polite greeting as they drew near, dropping his head to hide his face.
One of the men raised a hand in return, giving them a curious glance. Ian recognized him immediately.
Ormunder. The castle guard he had seen at the archery tournament.
The men moved past them, walked around the front garden, and made for a side entrance. The door opened before they reached it, as though someone inside had been watching for them. Ian turned back to Robin, intending to ask her why a castle guard was visiting Peter Cabril.
But Erich and Aizel were walking toward them.
“Ian!” Erich called out, his voice low and easy, as though he had not just been kissing his wife goodbye in the dark.
“Hush,” Ian replied, looking toward the house to ensure that no one was within earshot.
“Oh, right,” Erich replied, his voice much quieter.
Aizel approached the waiting horse standing at Ian’s side, and Erich helped her to mount it. When she was safe in the saddle, Erich handed her the reins, then turned back to Ian.
“Keep my wife safe.” Erich’s usual grin was present, but Ian saw it waver.
“I will—” Ian started to answer, but Aizel cut him off.
“Your wife is going to keep herself safe, and in doing so she will be keeping you safe as well. And we all know that you are the one who really needs it.”
Erich’s eyes tightened in a way that looked dangerously close to a sob, despite the smile that still graced his mouth. “Do not let her out of your sight!” he said, pointing up at Ian.
“I will do my best,” Ian said to his younger brother.
Erich stepped away from the horses, his hand trailing along Aizel’s leg for as long as he could reach it.
Urging his horse forward, Ian nodded at Erich as he started the long ride back to Lockwood.
Robin hissed quietly when the horse started moving.
“How is your shoulder?” Ian whispered in her ear.
“Pained,” she replied. “This cold night air is not helping.”
“This is why you are supposed to be resting,” he whispered back, adjusting his arms around her to gently pull her back into his chest.
“I am resting,” she replied, leaning into him.
“Good.”’