Chapter 22 #2
She’s been gone four days. I’m going mad.
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Six days.
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Fuck. What if she doesn’t come back?
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When she rode through the gates, I was relieved and terrified. Blood was drying in her hair and staining her clothes. A current of energy ran through my body under the gathering clouds. I needed to gain control of myself, but all I could think was: that blood better not be hers.
She was unapologetic as I yelled at her, all of my fear and insecurities spilling out as rain pounded the roof above us and lightning flashed outside the fortress. She left me standing there with no answers.
Lord Warwick finally took pity on me and told me that the man who had raised Caris these past ten years had died. But that did not explain why she arrived at the fortress coated from head to toe in blood.
I called for water to be heated and taken to her room and sent Meg to verify that Caris was unharmed beneath all that gore.
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I know whose blood she was wearing. The patrol reported they came across two bodies and burned remains on the road to Murus.
They found one body decapitated, the other disembowelled.
An officer identified one man as Drake, a soldier Atlas and I deemed too dangerous to remain after I killed his cousin, Boric.
I wanted every soldier under my command to be aware that Drake and Boric died because they tried to harm Caris.
I ordered my men to go back and dig up the corpses.
They are unworthy of the underworld – they will be in the guts of carrion eaters by nightfall.
By morning, they will be nothing more than piles of shit for the flies.
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She’s not eating. Caris hasn’t left her room since she returned. Atlas is concerned too. We have both tried to talk to her through that damned locked door, but all we get is silence. I could break the door down, but I know it is comfort she needs, and she doesn’t want it from us.
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I sent for the blacksmith.
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She let the blacksmith in. I cannot offer her the solace she desperately needs to cope with her grief. I’m incapable of being that person for anyone, but especially for this woman who makes me feel too much.
The blacksmith told me she wanted a bath, and he gave her the soup I’d brought up from the kitchen.
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He stayed the night.
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The next morning, the blacksmith came looking for me and asked for coffee. It was her favourite, he said. Something I didn’t know about her – something I wish I knew and he didn’t. Smug arsehole.
I asked him if she was better, and he just smiled. I have never wanted to hit someone so much before. He must have seen how I felt before I could hide it behind my usual mask of indifference.
He asked me why I would send another man to Caris’s bed if I was in love with her.
I will give her whatever she needs to be happy. If that’s him, then so be it.
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I closed the journal, feeling conflicted. Cillian hadn’t told me that Torgrin had sent him to comfort me after Iain’s death. I had been confident in my choice when I chose Cillian, but Torgrin’s words were invading my heart.
I would stop reading it. I’d throw it away if I had to. No, don’t throw it away. I’d place his journal back into my saddle pack – at the very bottom.
Something disturbed me from my sleep. My eyes opened to see the large outline of Cillian’s back in front of me in the dark.
I rolled over, needing to know. Fast asleep next to me, like he had been every night since we left Murus, was Torgrin.
I snuggled down into my blankets, brimming with a contentment I did not wish to examine.
The following day, there was a lot more energy around the camp. We would hit the halfway mark in just a few days, and even Bethel was eager to get going. She said that Torgrin had promised her she would get to sleep in an actual bed soon.
Cillian had grinned at me from ear to ear the moment I woke, making me laugh and shake my head at him. Men were easy to please. Just before I mounted my horse, he handed me a little pouch. I looked inside curiously and saw it contained a green powder.
‘I wasn’t sure if you would want this until last night,’ he said, scratching his overgrown stubble.
‘Hannah used to make it. It’s for preventing pregnancy,’ he explained.
‘I purchased the ingredients after the first time. I’ve been trying to find the right moment to give it to you without making you feel like I was expecting more than what you are willing to give,’ he admitted.
‘That is very considerate of you, Cillian.’
‘You are young, and I’m an old man who’s been married already.’ He shrugged his shoulders slightly before continuing. ‘I should be thankful for any attention you give me, but I also want you to be safe.’
My heart squeezed. I didn’t deserve this remarkable man. ‘Thank you. How does it work?’
I listened carefully to his instructions.
I would need to dissolve a spoonful of the powder in a cup of water and drink it the day after my bleeding.
I thought about how most women would learn such things from a mother or sister.
The men in my life taught me many skills that kept me fed, warm and alive – but I was learning that there was more to life than survival.
I tucked the pouch carefully into my pack and pulled myself up onto Nightmare. When Cillian settled himself onto his horse, I turned to him.
‘Cillian?’
‘Yes?’
‘How old are you?’
‘Thirty,’ he grunted out, looking uncomfortable.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Cillian?’
‘Yes?’
‘Can I call you my old man, then?’ I shot him a cheeky smile.
He roared with laughter, causing everyone to turn and look at us. ‘Don’t you dare!’ he replied, his brown eyes sparkling.
We arrived at a small inn just before nightfall.
There were more people here than we had seen on the road since we left Murus.
The owner said the inn was full and only one room was available.
I didn’t hide my surprise when Torgrin explained I would be the one to sleep in the room with Bethel to keep watch over her.
‘Don’t you want to take the room with her?’ I asked Torgrin. It was petty for me to test him like this, but I couldn’t stop myself.
‘No,’ he said curtly.
‘I don’t believe anyone here will say anything to her father or anyone else.’ I kept my voice low. ‘Everyone here is loyal to you,’ I assured him.
I knew I spoke the truth. I’d seen with my own eyes how much his men respected him. Lord Warwick might have paid their salaries, but it was Torgrin and Atlas they truly served.
‘I will spend the night out here with my men,’ he growled back at me. It was wrong to be pleased by his reaction, but I smiled as he stalked off.
Despite the comfortable bed, I didn’t sleep well. I’d gotten used to sleeping under the stars between two disconcerting men.
In the morning, I was yawning and my muscles felt stiff and sore. Bethel, though, had her princesslike radiance back. The dark smudges under her eyes were gone, and her pale cheeks were rosy again.
Cillian and one of Torgrin’s soldiers were waiting to escort us to where they had camped for the night.
I scanned our surroundings, noticing several armed strangers loitering around the inn.
Making sure Bethel and her horse stayed between me and Cillian while the other soldier covered our rear, we trotted across the open fields, heading towards the woodland where Torgrin and the rest of the soldiers waited for us.
We were approaching the last grassy field when an arrow flew past my ear and into the throat of the soldier riding behind us.
The stunned soldier dropped from his horse as blood pumped from his neck. I had barely registered what was happening when the light faded from the soldier’s terrified eyes.
We were sitting targets.
‘Get down!’ I screamed at Bethel and Cillian.
They quickly dismounted at my warning, and I had my swords unsheathed as my feet touched the ground.