The wagon lurched to a halt, throwing us all sideways. I braced my hand out as Sadie fell on top of Navin. His hands bracketed her waist and he stared up at her.
“We’ll go get firewood,” Hector snarled, jumping to his feet. He tapped his sister on the arm. “Let’s go.”
She grimaced but followed, an inevitable lecture waiting the moment they were out of earshot.
“I’ll see if Ora needs help.” I jumped to my feet, my eyes flitting to Grae and then falling away. “You go set up the tent.”
My ears burning from the awkward exchange, I turned before he could reply. I’d called him a coward. I’d thrown his necklace at him and ran away. How was I meant to speak to him after that? I hated that he’d found me, and I hated even more that I was glad he did. It was too much, but I knew at some point I’d have to speak with him.
Probably in a tent.
Alone.
Gods, help me.
Eighteen
On a sparse patch of ice-coated forest, we disembarked to set up camp. I felt Grae’s eyes tracking my every step. He would be ready to chase me if I broke off into a sprint—I was certain of it. I’d run away from him once before, and though I was certainly justified in doing so, I didn’t see why he’d trust me now. Yet I had no plans on running. I just didn’t have plans for talking to him—and telling him that—either.
I skirted away from him the rest of the evening, helping with the fire while Grae set up our tent. The pine forest provided some shelter from the icy alpine winds, but we were so high up the trees were scraggily and far apart. It wasn’t an ideal place to rest, and an even worse idea to sleep in a tent, but at least it was far enough off the main road that more Rooks wouldn’t come looking . . . hopefully. It wouldn’t end well for them regardless, now that Grae, Sadie, and Hector were there.
“We don’t have much in the way of a meal with four more mouths to feed than I rationed for,” Ora said to the group as I watched Grae string up our tent between lean pine trees. “Not if we want to eat tomorrow before we reach Hengreave. Gloftas will have to do.”
“That’s all right.” Hector stepped out into the clearing, holding an armful of kindling to his chest. “We’ve brought our own provisions.”
“He has incredible hearing,” Ora murmured to me. They prodded at the burgeoning fire, coaxing it to life.
“That he does,” I replied, frowning at Hector. He obviously spent little time pretending to be a human. It took practice to not move too quickly or show too much strength . . . or show off his other heightened senses.
“I’ll make a warming brew.” Ora tipped their head back to the wagon, parked between a wind break of scrawny trees. “I’m going to get cleaned up for dinner. Why don’t you do the same?”
I glanced over at Ora and realized I’d been standing stock still while the campsite sprung to life around me. I shifted the pack on my shoulders. Grae left the tent to help Sadie move logs into a circle for the fire, which meant I had a moment to change in privacy.
Ora squeezed my hand, making me look at them. “Thank you for saving my life today.”
“Of course!” I waved if off as if the fight was as effortless as lending Ora some flour.
“No—not of course. It was incredibly brave of you. Foolish, perhaps, but brave. So, please—accept my thanks.”
My eyes softened. “You’re welcome.”
That’s why they thought I was frozen—the horror of the attack, not because I was afraid to speak to the warrior who had rescued us. Who they thought was my husband.
Who was, in fact, my mate.
I waited until Grae was on the other side of the clearing and hastened over to the tent. I planned to change quickly and get back out in the open before he could corner me. That’s what he’d do, scolding me for leaving once he had me trapped, and I didn’t want to be demeaned and chastised for doing what I knew was right. I was the one who took action, who fought, and I wouldn’t be shamed for trying to save my sister, whether it was against the king’s wishes or not.
The tent was tall enough that I didn’t need to duck my head, only the center bowing down where it wasn’t tied to the slack line. Rough canvas covered the ground and a single bed mat lay on the floor with a fur blanket folded at the foot. I sighed, dumping my pack. Out of the cold, I felt all my bruises more acutely, numbness fading back to aching pain. My stomach and back throbbed from where I’d been kicked and my chin stung with each unconscious movement of my mouth. I lifted a hand to my bloodied jaw and hissed. The cut was deeper than I thought. At least it wasn’t still bleeding, but it felt gritty with sand and debris. I slid the neckline of my tunic wider and pulled one arm out, surveying my skin mottled with swollen bruises.