Chapter 14
Morning light crept through the frost-covered windows and bathed the room in gold ribbons. Everything was quiet except for the low crackling of the sleepy fire.
Mirielle slept deep and dreamless for the first time in weeks. The peace of knowing that Reis was only feet away settled over her like a soft blanket.
At first Reis didn't notice her wake. He was sitting in pensive silence in a chair, arms crossed, his boots spread out in front of him over the wooden floorboards. Something about his expression looked worried and Mirielle felt her heart tug.
She remembered the night before, the desperate way he kissed her, the way he held her.
But this morning he looked like a man carrying regret.
She sat up and folded herself inward as if to protect her heart from a blow. Reis's attention snapped to her—his eyes softened at her sight.
"You're awake."
She watched him closely for a minute. "You look upset."
A humorless breath escaped him. "I am."
Her stomach sank.
"I should not have kissed you like that."
She flinched as the words struck harder than she expected. Her fingers reflexively went to the blanket edge and pulled it around her like armor.
He saw it all. His gaze hardened with regret.
"That's not—" He stopped himself in frustration. He dragged his hands through his hair roughly. "Gods."
"It's alright." Heartbreak and shame laced through her voice. It clearly wasn't.
Reis abruptly stood and crossed the room. He knelt on the floor beside her bed and took her hands in his calloused palms.
"No," he said firmly. "That is not what I meant."
His grey eyes held hers like a vise. His voice was low and firm.
Mirielle saw something in his expression. He looked... afraid? Terrified almost.
He took a low breath before speaking carefully. "I should not have kissed you like that," he said slowly, "because now I cannot think clearly and I need to think clearly to get you safely to Kaldyr."
Mirielle searched his expression, looking for any trace of a lie, but found none. Relief flickered across her features but Reis's expression didn't ease. If anything, it grew heavier.
His gaze drifted to their joined hands. His thumb brushed absently over her fingers before he released a slow, unsteady breath and covered his mouth with one hand, as if there were words hiding somewhere in his throat that he wasn't quite sure he deserved to say.
"Mirielle, that night... what I said." Disgust flickered across his face.
He felt Mirielle straighten underneath his hand.
"I..." His jaw tightened. "Even if you ran, I would not harm the people you care about." The promise fell heavily between them. He bowed his head. "I have no excuse for my actions."
"Reis, I—"
His eyes snapped to her. "No." His voice left no room for argument. "You had every excuse for yours."
Mirielle slowly closed her mouth.
Reis held her gaze without looking away. "I will not speak to you that way again." His voice was gentle but firm. There was no excuse in his words, no attempt to defend himself, only a certain vow.
Reis rose to his feet and kissed the top of her head. He stayed there for a moment, closed his eyes and murmured another apology into her hair.
"We will leave as soon as you're ready." Then he turned before she could say anything kind and walked out the door.
*
"Absolutely not!" Lettie protested.
"On my honor, I wouldn't dream of touching you inappropriately," Kellan lied.
"I don't believe you."
Kellan smiled.
"Would you rather walk?"
"I'd rather you walk."
"You just told me you don't know how to ride, so you'll have to ride double with me." Kellan couldn't stop his grin. "Besides, we need to move quickly."
"Can't I ride with Reis and Mirielle can ride with you?"
"No," Reis growled from atop Hank. Mirielle was already sitting snug in front of him in one of Lettie's cloaks.
Lettie let out an exasperated sigh. Maisey huffed in agreement.
"If you so much as touch me wrongly—" She waved a finger at Kellan.
"I would never do such a thing..." He paused "...without permission. With permission, on the other hand..."
Lettie smacked him on the back of the head.
"Oh, you won't be getting any," she seethed, her eyes piercing him in angry challenge.
"Don't count me out yet," he said with a knowing smile. "Now milady, may I assist you?" he asked, holding out his hand very theatrically.
"I can climb up meeself," she declared angrily.
"I'm sure you can, terrifying woman," Kellan mumbled.
Lettie rather deftly hauled herself onto Maisey's back. Kellan quickly mounted behind her, still smiling.
"You're enjoying this too much."
"I'm devastated, actually." His voice rumbled low with amusement right beside her ear, making her go rigid.
"Don't do that."
"Do what, talk?"
Lettie thought for a moment.
"Yes, actually."
"I'm afraid that's impossible," he said, snatching up the reins.
Lettie made an exasperated noise as Kellan signaled Maisey to start down the trail behind Hank. The sky was shedding light snow which coated the world in a frosty white. The only sounds were the crunch of hooves through snow and the distant groan of wood shifting in the cold.
Lettie watched with a far-off look as her home was swallowed by trees, disappearing piece by piece into the forest behind her.
When it vanished entirely, her face crumpled.
She turned away quickly, pressing the heel of her hand against her mouth as if she could hold the grief inside herself through sheer force.
Kellan frowned.
He said nothing when the shivers started. Nothing when the cold finally seemed to sink into her and she leaned into his chest without meaning to.
He only reached up silently and pulled his cloak tighter around them both.
*
The horses thundered over trails. Trees flew by them in a blur of bark and boughs. Reis held Mirielle tightly against his chest, his grip iron-hard, every muscle in his body drawn taut as a bowstring.
A flash of silver split through the trees. Reis moved on instinct. In one fluid motion, he caught an arrow only inches from Mirielle's heart.
She yelped a stunned cry.
"DOWN!" he growled violently.
Suddenly it felt like Hank disappeared beneath her. The great horse collapsed to the ground in a mighty thud. Reis pulled Mirielle with him and hid her in the nook behind Hank's back.
Kellan pulled Lettie from Maisey's saddle in one swift motion, shielding her against his chest. He handed her off to Reis, who set her down next to Mirielle. Lettie curled into Mirielle and clung to her like her life depended on it.
Reis stood over them both, sword drawn, poised defensively with one foot on Hank's back. Menace seemed to pour out of him. Kellan pulled something small and shiny from his pocket and took a defensive position in front of Reis.
Men appeared from the forest on either side of them, heavily armed and wearing armor that bled silver. Reis counted. Three. Five. Twelve.
"You have officially overstayed your welcome, King Reis," a mangy voice called from the trees above them.
Mirielle froze. Reis felt it before he understood it. Her body locked beneath him, every muscle going rigid.
Then came the trembling. It was violent. Her heartbeat stumbled into a frantic rhythm. Her breathing shortened into shallow little pants that barely seemed to reach her lungs.
Gregorat let out a cruel chuckle. "Still afraid of me, little girl?" He grinned from the treeline.
Mirielle shook harder and Lettie clutched her reflexively. Then Mirielle's hand unconsciously went to her throat.
Reis followed the movement. Then he went utterly, terrifyingly still.
"Oh."
The forest seemed to hold its breath. He sheathed his sword.
"You should have told me," he said gently.
Then the men charged.
Reis grinned so wickedly that several of the knights faltered beneath the power of it.
When the first knight reached Reis, he seemed to tear him apart from the inside with his bare hands. His armor bulged and blood and gore burst through the seams of his armor, spilling red onto the forest floor.
Lettie screamed.
Kellan froze for an instant. Then he moved. He looked like a blur of silver and blue as he wove his way through knights. They seemed to drop to the ground without him even touching them as if volunteering to die in his presence.
The forest drowned in blood and steel as men fell in heaps of metal and flesh. Screams died in the leaves of trees forever lost in the forest.
Then, almost as quickly as it started, only Gregorat remained.
Reis crossed the clearing—not like a man, like wrath himself. His dark cloak dragged through the snow, leaving red trails. Blood coated most of his body.
And his face.
Gods.
Blood streaked across it. There was nothing human left in it. Only rage now. Only cold, murderous inevitability.
Gregorat tried to swing his sword, but his hand seemed to break apart before he could lift it.
Reis's fist crashed into Gregorat’s face with a sickening crack that echoed through the clearing.
Blood sprayed across the snow.
Gregorat smiled through bloodied teeth. “There he is,” he growled, “the beast she should fear.”
Something flickered across Reis's face.
Gregorat grinned like a man possessed. Like a man who knew he was going to hell and was bent on dragging Reis with him.
As if hell would ever accept him.
"You should have seen her eyes when I choked the life out of..." Gregorat's voice seemed to stutter out.
"You should have prayed to me the moment you laid hands on her." His voice was calm the way storms were calm.
Then he grabbed Gregorat by the throat with one hand and lifted him into the air. His fingers dug holes in the sides of his neck. Blood trickled down Reis's hand and down his forearm.
Then he slammed his body into a tree.
Again.
And again.
And again.
His bones rammed into his armor like a bell. Metal scraped against wood, flesh against metal.