by Tanya Bird
‘Yes… it is just… I have not been on a horse in some time.’
He pushed his mare into a walk and her grip tightened. ‘How long is “some time”?’
‘Nine years.’
‘All you have to do is hold on.’
Chapter 4
As the horse walked between the rows of tents, Petra felt the curious stares of every man in the camp on her. What would they make of the filthy woman wrapped in a Syrasan tunic, riding behind the knight? Not just any knight, but Sir Leksi, famous for more than his fighting skills. “Notorious womaniser” was the most common term used to describe him whenever his name came up in conversation. But something in her gut told her she could trust this man, despite the fact that she had decided a long time ago to never trust anyone.
‘Here we are,’ he said, pulling up his horse.
Charis rushed over to help her dismount, but her hands were like tiny vices attached to the knight’s shirt.
Leksi turned to look at her. ‘You going to get off, or shall we do another lap of the camp?’
She saw the amusement in his eyes and let go of him. He offered her his hand while she awkwardly slid off the back of the horse. Charis caught her, but it was Leksi who held most of her weight on descent.
She stepped back from the squire and looked around, her fingers coming together beneath the tunic.
Press, press, press.
Leksi joined her on the ground and stepped over to the large tent, pulling the flap back to let her through. She remained where she was. Tilting his head, he regarded her for a moment.
‘You’re welcome to stay out here if you would prefer.’
She glanced at the other men, then, holding the tunic tightly, stepped past him into the tent. Coming to a stop in the middle of the space, she looked around at the simple arrangement. ‘Is this where you sleep?’
‘This is where I do everything right now.’ He remained at the door. ‘I’ll organise a bath, a bite to eat and some clean clothes. Then we’ll talk.’ He gestured to the water flask on the small table. ‘Drink.’
She glanced at the flask, then back at him. ‘Thank you.’
He lingered a moment. ‘We don’t have any women here to assist you.’
‘I do not need anyone to assist me.’
‘Don’t leave this tent,’ he said before disappearing, the flap swinging back into place.
A few minutes later, Charis arrived with food and more drinking water. She tried to eat like a lady, but she found herself shovelling the warm soup into her mouth with surprising speed. When her bowl was empty, she slowly ate the bread and the small piece of salted meat, washing it down with more water. When she had finished, she looked down at herself and was almost brought to tears by the sight.
Charis reappeared with two men carrying a wooden tub, big enough for her to stand in. ‘I’ll bring some hot water.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, gripping the tunic with both hands. Afraid to sit or touch anything for fear she would soil it, she remained next to the tub.
Charis returned with a pail of steaming water, some soap and a towel. Then she was alone. She waited a few minutes, just in case anyone else came in, then reluctantly stripped off her filthy clothes and stepped into the tub, scrubbing her skin until it was pink and raw before lathering her hair, rinsing it with the remaining hot water. As she dried herself, she looked around and realised that no clothing had been left for her. There was no chance of her putting her dirty dress back on.
As she was wrapping the towel around her, she spotted one of Leksi’s shirts crumpled at the end of his bed. Glancing down at her bare legs, she was aware that the knight could return at any moment, so she snatched the shirt and slipped it over her head before wrapping the towel around her waist to cover the rest of her. The shirt was huge, the neckline gaping. She adjusted it as best she could before bringing the neck of the shirt to her nose to check if it was clean. It smelled like him—a far more pleasant scent than one would expect from a man who had spent months in a camp.
The sound of a throat clearing made her turn. Sir Leksi stood watching her.
Leksi took in the sight before him. She was wearing his shirt, and her wet hair had soaked through it, making it far more see-through than she probably realised. A gentleman would have looked away.
‘It’s not clean, if that’s what you’re wondering,’ he laughed. She seemed momentarily flustered but recovered quickly.
‘It was this or my dress.’
‘Or just a towel.’
Again, she did not blush. Too well-trained. ‘I could not see a clean dress anywhere.’
While she was far too prudish to be his type, there was no denying her beauty. But he would expect nothing less from the king’s former Companion. Or current Companion. The lines were blurred in this instance. ‘I have organised some clothes, though it might take a while for them to get here. Not too many women about the place.’
He had been forced to approach Lord Belen with the request and explain the rather suspicious circumstances of a woman in his tent in need of clothes. He could not tell if the man disliked him in general, or if perhaps some of the rumours had finally reached him.
‘I suppose I owe you an explanation,’ she said.
He noticed her hands fidgeting, though she showed no other signs of nerves. He almost felt bad for glancing down at her breasts a second time. ‘I’m going to need something, because as you can imagine, harbouring King Nilos’s runaway Companion will likely disrupt the peace.’
‘I am not his Companion,’ she said.
Her fingers continued to fidget. What on earth was she doing with them?
He shrugged. ‘Former Companion, then. Either way, I’m guessing he didn’t let you leave.’
Her fingers stilled, and he looked up at her broken expression. So she’s human after all.
Stepping into the tent, he went to sit on the cot, patting the space next to him. ‘All right. Let’s hear it. And definitely don’t skip the part where you rolled about in manure before coming here.’
Not even a hint of a smile. She watched him, as though considering how much to share.
‘When will I be able to speak with Aldara?’ she asked.
He rested his elbows on his knees. ‘Probably never. They left for Syrasan this morning. I’ve sent a message to them. For now, it seems you are my problem.’
She swallowed. ‘And I suppose you want to send me back?’
‘You haven’t told me anything yet, so how am I to decide?’
A nod, appearing to understand his position. ‘If I knew where my son was, then I would have somewhere else to go.’
Leksi tried not to let her soften him up too much. ‘It seems King Nilos wants him to remain hidden.’
She walked over to the bed and sat at the far end of it. ‘Ask me whatever you like, and I will answer.’
He studied her, confident he would know if she were lying. She sat with the trademark good posture and composed face of a mentor, waiting. ‘Whose blood is on your dress?’
She glanced down at the garment. ‘Her name was Orla. She was Prince Felipe’s Companion.’
‘Was?’
‘She took her own life yesterday.’ The words were delivered in an even tone, but she looked down at her lap for a moment.
He kept his gaze trained on her. ‘I’ve heard Prince Felipe has that effect on people.’
‘He has a temper,’ she said, looking up.
‘But that doesn’t explain why you’re on the run. Did they try to pin the girl’s death on you?’
Her hands gripped her knees. ‘I… I realised I could not stay.’
‘Why not?’
Her fingers were turning white. ‘It was such a terrible shock, I suppose.’
‘But no one else ran away, did they?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘What were you afraid of?’
She stared at him, as though she was digging for the right answer. ‘I think I realised that if I did not get out of that
place, there was every chance I would make the same choice.’
They stared at one another for a moment. Before Leksi could reply, the tent flap went back and the woman he had booted from his bed earlier that morning stepped inside. She froze at the sight of Petra, then turned to glare at him.
‘I realise how this looks,’ Leksi began.
She threw the pile of clothes she had been carrying at him with surprising force for a lady of leisure, then stormed from the tent. Leksi gathered the garments and set them on the bed between them.
‘An acquaintance of yours?’ Petra asked.
He glanced at her, preferring not to have to explain. ‘Probably safe to say former acquaintance.’ He continued to look at her, then exhaled, adding, ‘What am I going to do with you, runaway?’
Her expression gave nothing away. His gaze fell to the bruises around her wrists, and he realised he did not have it in him to send her back to King Nilos. He attributed the decision to the fact that he had a weakness for damsels in distress. As well as damsels not in distress, and those in between the two extremes.
‘You can stay here for now,’ he said, standing.
She stood also. ‘And where will you stay?’
He suppressed a smile. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll bunk with one of the other men.’
She looked visibly relieved.
‘I’m not going to put a target on my back by sharing a tent with you.’ He noted the dark circles around her amber eyes.
‘Thank you, Sir Leksi.’
‘You can just call me Leksi.’
She blinked. ‘Where I come from, if a person has a title, you use it.’
‘Then shall I address you as my lady?’
‘Only the Companions address me that way.’
He should have known better than to waste humour on a mentor. ‘Get some sleep. I’ll be back to check on you later.’
Chapter 5
A small lantern burned in the corner of the tent, casting a soft glow of light. Petra should have been asleep. She was exhausted. Instead, she watched the shadows, her body tense as though she were bracing for something. She knew there were no safe havens as long as King Nilos was searching for her.
The flap of the tent swept back and she sat up in surprise, staring at her visitor, trying to connect the woman standing in front of her with the one she had mentored eighteen months earlier.
‘Aldara.’ She pushed her blankets back and got to her feet.
Looking as though she had seen a ghost, the princess released a breath, then rushed forwards. Petra stiffened as arms enclosed her. The only affection she had known in the previous nine years had come from King Nilos—and it had never been welcomed. This was very different. She felt a tightening in her throat but swallowed it down in order to remain composed.
Aldara stepped back to look at her, keeping hold of her arms.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Fine.’ One word. A lie.
Aldara did not appear to believe her anyway. They had once existed in the same world, after all. ‘How on earth did you get away?’
She really did not want to retell the story. ‘It was not pretty’ was all she said. ‘I am sorry to come here, to put you in this position.’ She paused. There was that tightening in her throat again. ‘I… I did not know where else to go. I could hardly go to my family’s home. The king will be looking for me by now.’
‘Of course he will. He will send men to every corner of the kingdom.’
Hearing those words from someone else’s mouth made her feel slightly less crazy. Only a handful of people knew how it really was between them. ‘I need to find my son, before the king finds me.’
Aldara’s expression softened. ‘I have not stopped searching since I left Masville. Did you get my last letter?’
She nodded, the disappointment still raw. ‘No new leads, then?’
Aldara shook her head. ‘I am so sorry. I know how much you want to find him.’
Petra brought her hands together in front of her. ‘At the very least, I need to know he is safe, that he is loved.’
‘I understand. Not knowing anything must be the worst form of torture.’
‘I need to see it with my own eyes.’
‘Of course you do.’
They fell silent for a moment.
‘Will Prince Tyron send me back?’ Petra asked.
Aldara hesitated before answering. ‘He won’t, but if King Nilos learns of your whereabouts, I am afraid the decision will be out of his hands.’ She paused. ‘Relations are fragile, and King Pandarus will—’
‘It is all right. I understand how these things work. Your king does not owe me anything.’
The tent flap shifted, and the women turned to see a young boy watching them through the gap. Petra’s heart pinched.
‘Mako, what are you doing?’ Aldara asked him. ‘I told you to stay with your father.’
Petra’s hands went limp at her sides. ‘Your son?’
Aldara waved him in. ‘When he is misbehaving, he is Tyron’s son.’ Mako came to stand in front of his mother, and she placed her hands on his shoulders. ‘Mako, this is an old friend of mine, Petra.’ The boy gazed curiously up at her. ‘Without her help, we would never have made it home, and you would not have a sister.’
Petra looked up. ‘You have a daughter?’
Aldara nodded, almost apologetically. ‘I will not give up the search for your son. I hope you know that.’
‘I know. That information is the only power King Nilos holds over me now. That is why he keeps it from me.’
Aldara thought for a moment. ‘A smarter man would hand the information over freely. Not a very clever tactic for winning a woman’s affection.’
Petra’s hands went to her stomach. ‘The time for that has long passed. He is so beyond the possibility of redemption now.’
‘Do you worry your disappearance might jeopardise Xander’s safety?’
Petra shook her head. She had already thought of that. ‘Even Nilos is not foolish enough to sever the only tie between us.’
The tent opened and Prince Tyron appeared. When Petra looked up, she saw Leksi standing outside the entrance. Their gazes met briefly before the canvas swung back into place. She turned her attention to the prince, a stark contrast from the wasting, bearded man who had emerged from Masville’s dungeon all those months back.
‘Petra,’ he said with a nod.
She curtsied. ‘My lord. I apologise if I disrupted your travel plans.’
‘No need,’ Aldara said. ‘I have been trying to come up with an excuse not to go for months.’
Tyron went to stand by his wife, his hand coming to rest on her back. ‘We have a problem.’
Something in his tone made Petra’s insides turn cold.
The prince’s gaze shifted to her. ‘There are Corneon guards riding the boundary. They may already be suspicious of you crossing.’
‘We could fight them,’ Mako said, thrusting his hand forwards as though he were holding a sword.
Aldara’s grip tightened, and Tyron patted the boy’s head. ‘Easy, soldier,’ he said, then to Petra, ‘Anyone else know you are here?’
‘No one.’ That did not mean King Nilos would not figure it out. She had passed enough others on her walk to the manor, and what a memorable sight she would have been. ‘I have brought trouble to your door. I apologise.’
Aldara frowned. ‘You had no choice. Where else would you go?’
Tyron was quiet for a moment. ‘You cannot stay here.’
Aldara’s eyes widened. ‘Tyron—’
‘I am not saying I will not help, but have you thought this through properly?’
Of course not—she had panicked. ‘I really do not wish to cause you trouble. Your men have already been very kind. I have some jewels I can trade for some supplies. I can leave tonight, if you would prefer.’
‘No,’ Aldara said, staring at her husband.
One look at his wife softened his expression. ‘The guards have
dogs. They will find you straightaway.’
Dogs. She did not like dogs.
Tyron cleared his throat. ‘If you returned now of your own accord, you could explain the situation to your king. He might even be sympathetic, show leniency.’
‘The man is obsessed,’ Aldara said. ‘If she returns to him, he will never let her out of his sight again.’
‘Any further delays in your return will only exacerbate the situation,’ the prince continued. ‘If you choose to run, we cannot predict the lengths King Nilos will go to in order to find you.’
She could. How many times had he told her that she belonged to him—mind and body?
She took a moment to think it all through, pushing past the fear and trying to think like a mentor. She thought about marching across the border of her own free will, approaching the guards on foot and asking them to escort her back to Masville so she might fall at the king’s feet and beg his forgiveness. ‘It was a lapse of judgement,’ she would say. If she were clever, she would tell him she missed him, that she could not be apart from him. He would love that. She even thought about how she might make it up to him. Small things, like watching him move on top of her instead of averting her eyes. She could put her hands on his back instead of recoiling beneath him. It would be like hugging a bull to her. Then she would arch her back, murmur words he had waited years to hear. By the end of it all, he would give her anything within his power—except her son.
Mako, growing bored, wriggled free of his mother’s grip and ran for the exit. Leksi was still waiting on the other side. ‘Up, up,’ Mako shouted, charging at the knight.
Petra listened to the squeals of delight through the canvas as the boy was lifted into the air. ‘I will not go back there until I see my son,’ she whispered.
Aldara looked relieved, and Tyron just nodded before stepping away.
‘You will have to trust us to continue the search for your son,’ he said after a long silence. ‘In the meantime, you need to go far away from here, somewhere you will not be recognised, somewhere safe. We will need time to figure this out.’ He looked at Aldara. ‘Which we will do from Archdale Castle. Cancelling the trip will only raise suspicion.’
