Chapter 13 #2
The force behind the words stunned the room more than the blows.
Kellan shoved him again. “Then why would you do it?”
“Because she runs!” Reis roared.
Across the cottage, Mirielle began to tremble. Her bound hands clenched tightly in her lap. Tears immediately fell down her face. She lowered her head as if she could somehow disappear beneath the weight of their argument.
Reis saw it and something in him recoiled.
Kellan breathed heavily. “You cannot protect her by being what she fears."
The cottage fell into heavy silence. Reis stood fixed at the center. Broken bowls and wood fragments littered the ground. Kellan leaned on the wall, clutching his ribs.
But Reis didn't notice. His eyes were fixed on Mirielle.
She sat trembling on the bed, her shoulders folded inward, her bound hands clenched so tightly as she tried to keep herself together physically.
Her uneven heart raced in her chest. He could hear every frantic beat of it sounding through his ears. The stuttering rhythm that had always been there, now thrown into complete chaos. Her breaths came in short, shallow pulls that never seemed to reach her lungs.
And her eyes—they were shaking like disturbed pools of molten silver. And she was looking at him.
It wasn't hate. It was fear.
The realization hollowed him out.
He took a step towards her and she flinched away.
Reis stopped immediately.
For a terrible moment he could not breathe. Because he knew that look—like she was waiting for something awful to happen. And she thought it was going to come from him.
Every dark and violent part of him rejected it.
He moved more slowly this time, the way someone approached something precious that had been hurt too many times.
Reis lowered himself onto one knee in front of her and gently took her bound hands in his.
Beneath his palms he could feel the weak tremble running through her. He could see the tears that already stained the linen strips wrapped around her wrists. Self-disgust curled through him.
His fingers moved carefully as he began removing the bindings he had tied himself.
"No cages," he promised softly.
For a moment he stayed, his thumbs brushing over the pinked skin where the bindings had been.
Then he grabbed his cloak and went out the door, into the cold.
*
"What in a troll's left arse cheek happened in here?" Lettie shrieked, entering the cottage carrying a fresh loaf of bread wrapped in cloth.
The table was broken, bowls littered the ground.
Then her eyes found Mirielle, who was still shaking on the bed. "What did these oafs do to you?" Her voice softened seeing her pitiful state.
Kellan gave Mirielle a chance to answer and when he saw her shrink into herself, he answered for her. "Reis was being an idiot and I fixed it."
"What did he do?"
"Not my place," he drawled.
Then there was silence.
"There's something else, isn't there?" Lettie accused. "Something's going on here and you lot aren't tellin'. Well, I need to know."
Kellan's expression hardened. She was right and it was unfair to keep it from her. She was in danger too.
"You can't stay here," he said at last.
"What do you mean I can't stay here?"
"They're hunting her."
Lettie's face snapped to Mirielle. Worry shrouded her features.
"She is the princess of Ambersaith, the last living member of the direct line. King Orbin wants her dead."
Realization covered her face and Lettie gawked. "You're the princess!"
Mirielle managed a nod.
Lettie stood for a moment in shocked silence. "But why?"
"Because she is the last of her line," he repeated with an irritated tone, not at Lettie. "Without her, Orbin's bloodline will have claim to the throne."
Lettie chewed on this for a moment.
"But she was in Ambersaith. Why didn't he kill her before if he wanted her dead?"
"Because her bride price was too valuable. Her bloodline is very rare. But Reis has already paid it."
Lettie stared at him for a long moment. "The knights. Those bastards were here to kill her!"
"They would have if they could have," he said gravely, "but they know about this hamlet and they won't leave it alone." His voice dropped. "You need to come with us to Kaldyr. We can help you make a home there."
Lettie rounded on him. "I beg yer pardon?"
"Lettie..."
"I have a home."
"You had a home. They'll be back, Lettie." He pushed his voice.
"Don't ye dare," she warned.
He paused and his expression softened.
"I'm not trying to take your home, Lettie," he said quietly.
"No? Then what are ye doing?"
"I'm trying to save your life."
The words cut the fire in Lettie completely and she fell back a step. Kellan watched with heart-rending gentleness as it fizzled and died, morphing into something altogether worse.
Kellan hated that.
She looked around at the broken furniture, the hearth that she had cooked over, the chairs that she had sat in and had fireside chats late at night with Marta and Gerald and Kay. Her blue eyes began to shine.
"I'm so sorry," Mirielle said softly.
"Don't," Lettie warned, a sob in her voice, "I'd take you in again in a heartbeat."
Kellan stood rigid in front of her, restraining himself from comforting her.
"In Kaldyr, Reis and I can protect you all, Mirielle needs people she trusts and I..." He swallowed. "I would rather not spend the rest of my days wondering if you were punished for having a good heart."
She looked down for a moment. "What am I supposed to do in Kaldyr?" Her voice was smaller than Kellan had ever heard it.
"I don't know," he said gently. "Probably terrify the servants."
Lettie searched him. Kellan just dropped his head, waiting for her to accept her fate.
"Right then." Her voice was cracked. "I'll need to start packing. You'll need a cloak," she said with a shaking voice looking at Mirielle. "You can borrow my other one."
The look Kellan gave her was painfully gentle. "We only have one horse. Pack what you can carry, but we will need to travel light to Drumhaven."
He watched her expression falter. Everything she owned was here. The little cottage, Kay's tools hanging by the hearth, the garden she'd tended every spring.
A life small enough to fit inside four walls.
"I can come back later and get your things," Kellan said softly. "Stash it somewhere thieves won't find it."
Lettie took a steadying breath.
Then she began deciding what pieces of her old life she could bear to leave behind.
*
Two days passed and Mirielle hadn't seen Reis. Kellan stayed in the hamlet, keeping a watchful eye. Whenever she asked, he assured her Reis was nearby. But the reassurance never settled the unease curling in her stomach.
She had spent both days restlessly pacing about the cottage, cleaning dishes that were already clean, folding and refolding blankets.
What if he had left?
He had promised to keep her safe, but men had promised her similar things before only to abandon her later.
By the third morning, the fear had rooted itself so deeply inside her chest that even waking felt heavy.
Then she looked through the frost-clouded window and froze.
Maisey stood tied outside the well. Her shaggy speckled coat had been brushed smooth, hay had been left out for her. Someone had even braided the pale strands of her mane clumsily, as though they had tried very hard without knowing quite how.
Relief hit Mirielle so suddenly it hurt. She grabbed her cloak, ran outside and buried her face in Maisey's shaggy fur.
"I missed you," she whispered as she breathed in her musty, sweet scent.