His hands go still. Even though it’s dark, I can sense every one of his muscles tensing.
“If I’d brought you back,” he says, “you’d have run again as soon as you got the chance. At least now I can keep you out of trouble.”
“Do you think I’m irresponsible?”
“Always.”
I laugh a little, though I’m wondering why he hasn’t put distance between us. “Fine then. Do you think I’m foolish?”
“Never.” Gavin turns his eyes from the jacket to my face, meeting my gaze in the night. “You are many things, my lady, but a fool is not one of them.”
After a long moment, I step back. Too much has happened in the last few hours to trust myself when we’re this close. I’m liable to kiss him, and what a mess that would make. I can’t give him any reason to take me back to Father’s men—and throwing myself at him would undoubtedly be a good reason.
“You never answered me.” He crosses his arms, watching me. “Where am I taking you?”
“To Heston.” I beg the butterflies in my stomach to settle, hoping they’ll be still even as my heart continues to flutter. “I’m supposed to meet Marcus at the College of Sorcery in a week.”
“I see. So it’s Marcus, is it?”
I give Gavin a look, telling him I’ll use the sorcerer’s given name if I want. The guard rolls his shoulders, possibly deciding it’s not a battle worth fighting.
“Heston is a day and a half ride from here,” he points out. “What will you do for the rest of the week?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. At this point, there are more unknowns than knowns, and I find that terrifying…and exhilarating.
Gavin doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t ask more questions. Instead, he helps me onto Star, and we ride in silence, eventually making our way back to the road. Occasionally, I peer behind us to make sure no one has caught up. My father’s men must not have ventured off the road, and why would they? I’m confident they assumed I couldn’t make it this far on foot…and they’d be right. There’s no way I would be here if it weren’t for Gavin.
My mind wanders as the night deepens. Instead of worrying about where we’ll stop, where we’ll sleep, or what we’ll eat, I think of home. Father’s going to be livid. I’ll write to my parents once I arrive to let them know I’m safe—but that doesn’t necessarily mean I must inform them where I’m at.
Guilt weighs on me, making me almost ill. It finally sinks in that I’ve just made the most monumental decision of my life, and I didn’t even bother to think it through first.
“Do you think I can do it?” I ask quietly, breaking the silence. “Learn magic?”
“Having second thoughts?”
“A few,” I admit. “But then I think of the alternative…and I can’t go back.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never done anything like this either.” Gavin again looks over his shoulder. “If anyone finds out what I’ve done, I’m as good as hanged.”
“That does not make me feel better. But I swear to you, I will never tell anyone how you’ve helped me.”
Our eyes lock in the dark. “I trust you.”
“And I you.” And I mean it with my whole entire being.
After several heartbeats, Gavin nods and then looks ahead. I almost lean forward and press my cheek against his back like I did earlier, but I hesitate. After a moment, I sigh, telling myself to be content with looping my arms around Gavin’s middle. If I pretend, just for a second or two, that we’re more than we are—that we’ve run away to be together—then what of it?
There’s no harm in indulging in a childish dream, is there?
“Are you warm enough?” he asks, his words rumbling through his back.
“I’m absolutely perfect,” I answer, but I say it so softly; I’m not sure he even hears me.
* * *
It seems it’s a season of firsts for me: first time running away, first time riding with Gavin, first time sleeping on the cold, hard ground.
I wake to the sound of a crackling fire and a flurry of sizzling sparks. I open my eyes, feeling groggy, frozen, and stiff. A rock jabs against my side, and my arm is half asleep because I used it as a pillow.
Gavin stands before me, leaning over our merry campfire, staring into the flames. It’s early dawn, right before sunup, and the day is still blue and gray. A pile of gathered dry twigs and branches lies near the circle of rocks, each piece waiting for its turn in the fire.
“What time is it?” I groan under my breath as I stretch, feeling every one of my pampered muscles. I don’t think I’ve ever been this cold in my life.
Gavin looks over, appearing surprised to find me awake. His usually clean-shaven face is shadowed with dark stubble, giving him a dashing appearance that makes my stomach warm.
“Early,” he says, turning his attention back to his handiwork.
I sit up, wrapping my borrowed jacket—which doubled as a blanket—around my shoulders. By the time we stopped last night, I was dozing against the guard’s back, almost too tired to stay on the horse. Yet even though I was exhausted, it took hours to fall asleep. There were too many noises in the woods, too many nocturnal animals crying in the night, and the rustle of the breeze in the trees might as well have been thunder.
“Did you sleep well?” Gavin asks, apparently feeling the need to make small talk to dispel the growing awkwardness surrounding us.
Unfortunately, decisions that made perfect sense the night before feel reckless in the light of a new day.
“Yes, thank you.”
He meets my eyes, giving me a wry smile. “Liar.”
I pull myself to my feet and shake out my skirts, trying not to think about what might be crawling in them. I shiver at the thought, feeling tiny—and hopefully imaginary—insect feet on my legs.
“All right, have it your way. I didn’t sleep well,” I tell him, my tone slightly snippier than I intend.
The guard eyes me as I unpin my dew-damp hair. I run my fingers through the strands to assure myself no little visitors found their way into my braids while I slept.
“I can take you back,” he says after a long minute, making me pause with my hand in my hair as I meet his eyes. “You can say you wandered too far, got lost, spent a terrifying night in the woods. I’ll tell them I found you this morning. If you can find it in yourself to work up some tears, no one will be the wiser.”
We study each other as the sun crests the mountains and washes the forest in warm, rich light. It shines on water droplets that cling to blades of grass and blue-gray evergreen needles, making the forest sparkle.
And much to my shame, I think about Gavin’s offer. In fact, I do more than think about it. I almost admit this was folly and give up.
Yet I find myself shaking my head, as foolish as it is, refusing the path that would return me to the arms of warmth and safety. If I were to go back to my father’s men, let them take me to the college, I’d never again feel cold like this. I’d never worry over a growling belly or the thought of displeasing my family. I’d never want for any physical comfort in my life.
But that life wouldn’t be my own.
“I can’t,” I whisper, knowing there’s a good chance it’s too late. Gavin is too sensible for this. He’s a straight arrow, a man of virtue, and he’s had time this morning to decide this was a rash mistake in desperate need of correcting.
But instead of arguing—instead of telling me this is ridiculous—he nods, accepting my answer. “Are you hungry?”
“Not yet,” I say, which is mostly true. My stomach is empty, but it churns with anxiety.
“Warm yourself by the fire. We’ll leave soon.”
Afraid if I speak, I’ll change my mind, I do as he says without a word, soaking in the heat of the flickering flames. With the sun over the mountain, the air warms quickly. Soon my frozen limbs loosen, and the intermittent shivers cease.
I stand by the fire, watching Gavin fuss with Star. He picks stones
from her feet and checks her legs. The guard wears a leather, laced, sleeveless tunic over a white shirt that’s loose at his neck, and it occurs to me that I’ve never seen him in anything but my family’s colors.
“You’ve taken off your tabard,” I say quietly.
Gavin pauses with his hand on Star’s flank. “I don’t want to be recognized, my lady.”
“Don’t call me that. Not here, in the middle of the forest. Not after last night.”
The words make our situation sound intimate, but we both know it’s not—though a little intimacy might be all right. Not fully intimate, mind you. Just a bit.
Finally, Gavin meets my eyes. “Brynn.”
Unable to bear the weight of his gaze, I look away.
“What is it?” he asks, leaving Star. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lie.
He skirts the fire and stands in front of me, waiting for me to look up. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
I force a laugh though I feel as if a lead weight has settled in my belly. “It’s ridiculous.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“It’s simply strange seeing you dressed plainly.” I shrug. “Almost like…”
Knowing me too well, Gavin leans down, making me meet his eyes. “Like I’ve abandoned my duty to you?”
“I told you it was ridiculous.”
But it doesn’t feel ridiculous. It feels like he no longer belongs to me—not that he belonged exactly. But…he did. He was mine, and I was his. What holds us together if not my father’s colors? What’s keeping him here, by my side?
Just when I expect him to step back, reassure me I’m being silly, he lowers himself before me, his expression enigmatic. Our eyes lock, and my breath catches in my chest, a thousand thoughts running rampant in my head.
4
I drop to my knee without thinking, kneeling in front of the woman I love—a woman who’s so far above me, I’m ashamed to even admit my feelings to myself.
Brynn’s gray-blue eyes widen with surprise, and her lips part, though she doesn’t speak. Her white hair is disheveled, a wild mess of silk, and her cheeks are pink from the cold morning.
She’s not soft or demure or particularly graceful—or anything that’s truly prized in a lady, but to me, she’s the most beautiful woman alive.
“Perhaps I can ease your fears,” I say, feeling awkward. I pull my rapier from my baldric and offer it to her. “Do you see this sword? It’s yours. I swear my allegiance to you, Lady Brynn Decarra, for as long as you wish for my services. No matter the colors I wear—or do not wear—I am…”
Yours.
I swallow, wishing I’d thought through the words more carefully. “At your service,” I finish lamely.
Her eyes, ever expressive, darken with an emotion that makes my stomach clench. For several long moments, an invisible string draws us together, coaxing us closer.
Time slows, and the forest noises cease.
“Until you return to my father, you mean,” she says, breaking the moment, giving me a chance to breathe. “You’re at my service…until you go home.”
“Until you dismiss me,” I correct, slowly standing.
She takes a step closer, testing us both. She looks up, only a head shorter than I even though I am tall. “And what if I never dismiss you?”
With a boldness equal to hers, I step forward, closing all but the slightest distance between us. “Then, my lady, I am forever yours.”
5
In a perfect world, this is the moment we’d come together, sharing a kiss so pure, so beautiful, it would mark us for life.
But my world is far from perfect, and I know that what I think is happening is not always what is actually happening.
Just because Gavin’s vow of allegiance sounds an awful lot like a declaration of love doesn’t mean that’s what it is. In fact, it’s likely it’s not what it is. Because my ears have longed to hear that particular sentiment for too many years—because my mind has dreamed it a hundred times, my senses simply cannot be trusted.
“All right.” Breathless, I step back. “Good.”
I turn, shielding my face from Gavin as I clench my eyes shut, desperately trying to rein in my racing, stumbling emotions.
“If we leave now, we might reach Heston tonight,” he says, thankfully changing the subject. His voice is too steady for his feelings to match mine. He made a knight’s vow, a guard’s promise. It had nothing to do with his heart.
“I have salted fish in my pack,” he continues, returning to Star. “When you’re hungry, you are welcome to it.”
“I’d have to be very hungry to crave salted fish,” I say lightly, assuring myself I imagined the whole encounter—and telling myself over and over it’s better this way.
* * *
“It’s not that bad.” Gavin graces me with one of his rare laughs when I make a noise of revulsion.
“Perhaps not—if you’re a cat.” I grimace as I take another nibble of the disgusting, chewy fish. I’m not a fan of the lake-dwellers to begin with, but when they’re salted and dried? Awful.
If I weren’t starving, I’d have abandoned it long ago. But I am starving, and my nearly sleepless night has caught up with me. The deplorable taste is keeping me awake enough to stay atop the horse.
It’s nearing evening, and we’re close to civilization. We began passing farms some time ago, and now the cottages are growing closer together. In the distance, I can see the rise of the mountain city and the stone wall that fortifies it.
I try not to imagine what that wall keeps out—what prowled in the woods while I attempted to sleep last night.
“It seems as if you know where you’re going,” I say to Gavin after we pass through the huge, looming gates. A guard gives us a bored nod, welcoming us to Heston.
“I do,” Gavin answers, his tone cryptic.
Twilight falls on the city, and flames flicker in lanterns lining the streets. The roads are made of large, smooth stones, and they’re flanked with buildings and shops constructed of the same gray slate. Roofs are shingled—better at keeping out snow than thatch, and carved signs hang from porches and eaves.
“Are we looking for an inn?” I ask, bemused at the thought. I’ve never stayed in an actual inn. Before spending a night in the forest, I might have been hesitant, but now the prospect of even a foreign bed seems appealing.
And then I remember I have no way to pay.
“No,” Gavin answers, easing my money fears but kindling several questions.
He continues through the streets without hesitation or pause, acting very much like he has a specific destination in mind.
“I forgot you grew up here,” I say when the realization dawns on me.
“Not here, but in a village nearby,” he corrects.
“Outside Heston?”
“A few hours to the west.”
“If you lived here, how did you find yourself in my father’s employ?”
The crowds thin as the sky darkens. Above, the first stars appear in the indigo sky, and the pink of the western horizon fades to lavender. We pass into another square, this one grander than the others we’ve been through. Flower boxes filled with tiny, spring seedlings are fixed to the windows, and iron scrollwork graces balconies and railings. It’s a residential area, boasting fine, large manors sitting in the center of tidy squares of gardens. There are lanterns here as well, but these seem more for the sake of ambiance than light. Some hang from trees; other peek from bushes.
“My father was in the former king of Morgenbruch’s personal guard. He was dismissed with honors after he sustained an injury and retired to Whiteshire, where he met my mother. He died when I was just a young boy.”
“I’m sorry.”
Gavin shakes his head. “I barely remember him, to be honest. But Mother told me stories of his days in the royal guard—stories he told her. From the time I was old enough to hold a sword, I knew I wanted to follow in his footsteps.
“So I tr
ained day and night, in all my spare time, and when I was old enough, I said goodbye to my mother and traveled to Morgenbruch.”
“But that doesn’t explain how you came to work for my family.”
“I had an audience with the head of the royal guard, but no positions were available at the time. He suggested I inquire with the local nobles, and if I proved myself able, I would be considered for the next opening.”
“And Father hired you.”
“That’s right.”
“I still don’t understand. Surely you have proven yourself more than able in the last four years. Why haven’t you been offered a position at the castle?”
Gavin doesn’t answer right away. After a few moments, he clears his throat. “I was.”
“Then why did you stay on with Father? Don’t tell me he’s such a kind man you couldn’t bear to part with him—because I know better.”
Father is fair and reasonable, but he’s not a jolly, loving soul.
“I had my reasons,” he answers.
“Very cryptic.”
Gavin looks over his shoulder, his eyes holding both amusement and…something else.
My chest tightens, and I go light, warm, dizzy, and breathless all at once. Slowly, I ask, “Why did you stay with Father instead of living your dream?”
“Are you truly going to feign ignorance?” He breaks eye contact and looks ahead once more. “You know why I stayed.”
The words hang between us, making my heart soar on new, fragile wings. “Because you became attached…to the family?”
“Yes. Some of you more than others.”
“Like Uncle Edwin?” I breathe, teasing because otherwise, I’ll swoon.
“I’m very fond of your uncle.”
“And mother’s terrier?”
He chuckles and looks back, meeting my eyes. “You know I can’t resist a yapping dog.”
We stare at each other for several more moments before he looks back at the street. “Here we are.”
He draws Star to a stop before a large house with open shutters and lights shining from inside.
The Sorceress in Training: A Retelling of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice Page 3
