With a small exhale of relief, he led his horse in front of her and reached out his hand. “May I?”
She eyed him warily. “I can manage.”
The corner of his lips turned up, and he gave an obliging nod.
She felt Alexander’s eyes on her as she climbed onto the horse. Her dress made her efforts less elegant than she’d hoped, but she managed to settle sideways into the saddle, with the dagger still in her hand.
The animal, a trained warhorse, stood steady, but Alexander held it like he trusted nothing. He waited until she gave him a nod. Then, with a final look around, he led them back the way he’d come.
Chapter three
She didn’t know him…
Alexander led his horse past the tree line, out of the thickly wooded forest, and north into the snow-covered hills. A small sense of relief filled him to step out of the Wild and away from its dangers, but it was short-lived. He’d rather face those dangers than accept the circumstance before him now.
Three years. Three years he’d waited for the day he would see her again, and she didn’t even know him. A pain gripped his chest, but he fought to ignore it. Later. He’d deal with it later, after he got her to safety. After he got her home.
Leaving the forest, she pulled her cloak tighter around her and grew even smaller in the saddle of his giant destrier, like she was reluctant to leave. Her eyes swept warily across the open hills, as if she didn’t know she was crossing into safety. As if she preferred to stay in the most dangerous place in the world.
Something had happened to her. The blood on her hands…
“Will you tell me what happened?” he asked.
Her lips parted, and she looked down at the dagger she held. Then she swallowed.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he added. It had obviously been traumatic for her. His chest tightened. He should have come sooner. If only he’d known.
At least she wasn’t physically hurt. In fact, far from it. She looked well taken care of. Had she been in the Wild all this time? No—that was impossible. So where had she been, and how did she end up in the Wild?
He couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering back to her as he led his destrier through the hills. He was so afraid it was all a dream, afraid none of it was real. When he glanced back to find her watching him, he forced his gaze forward again.
“How did I come to be lost?” she asked, finally breaking the silence.
He glanced back at her. He still couldn’t believe he’d finally found her. Her question… He forced his mind to focus. Where to start? There was no easy answer, but he had told her he’d explain, and she was waiting. “We were at war,” he said. “Your father took you away. Somewhere safe.”
She straightened. “My father?”
“King Aamon.” One of the greatest kings Mercia had ever known.
“You’ll take me to him?”
His heart fell for her, and he stopped. “No, Norah.” He’d been dreading the day she would learn of this. “He died in the war, shortly after you left, in the Battle of Bahoul.”
She stilled, and her throat moved with a struggled swallow. She’d been close with her father. Perhaps it was merciful that she didn’t remember right now. Despite that, there was no mistaking the sadness in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “He was a good man and a great king, and he loved you very much.”
She cast her eyes down, but at nothing in particular. When she raised them, they were glistening. “And if my grandmother is queen regent, then my mother…” Her words trailed off.
“She died in childbirth. You never knew her.”
She quieted. Anger coursed through him—how cruel fate was to give her loss before she’d even found herself. How cruel the gods.
Slowly, he started them forward again.
“How do we know each other?” she asked.
He wavered at her question, looking back at her from the corner of his eye. He couldn’t yet accept being a stranger to her, but he forced himself to answer. “We’ve known each other since we were children. I’m the son of Beurnat Rhemus of Northridge—Beurnat the Bear—who was lord justice and right hand to your father. My family has served Mercia and the crown for twelve generations.” He looked back at her. “It’s in my blood to protect you and the realm.”
That seemed to settle her slightly. He was glad he could give her some sense of comfort.
Their pace slowed in the deeper snow, but he pressed on with greater urgency. They needed to make it to the homestead by nightfall, before the darkness and true cold set in on them.
“Am I alone, other than my grandmother?” she asked.
“You have a cousin, although you don’t know each other well. No other family.”
He glanced back and caught the hint of a frown on her lips. “But you’re not alone,” he added. “There will be many to help you. Your grandmother’s a strong woman who has great wisdom and the respect of the people. She’ll guide you, along with the members of the Mercian Council. And”—he paused—“you’ll have a lord justice.”
Her brows drew together. “And what’s a lord justice?”
Only his life’s duty. But he gave a small smile. He wasn’t offended. “A justice provides counsel and commands your armies. Executes your will. A justice is your right hand.”
“Will that be you?”
He’d introduced himself with that title, but… “I’m justice to the queen regent, who holds Mercia in safekeeping until your return. After your coronation, you’ll select a justice of your own choosing.” And he wasn’t so bold as to assume she’d choose him, especially not now.
The sun had set and only its fading light remained. A wave of relief filled him when he finally spotted the small house in the distance.
“Have you any family?” she asked.
A smile came to his lips. “I have a younger brother, Adrian. You’ll see him at the castle again—or meet him, rather,” he corrected himself. “He’s missed you.”
“It sounds like we were close?”
He nodded. “You were very much like a sister to him. He’ll be incredibly happy to see you.”
“I imagine it will be hard for him that I don’t remember.”
His steps slowed, and he swallowed. His own heart suffered the same. It was hard. The hardest. He pushed down the pain and forced a smile. “Even if you did remember him, you wouldn’t recognize him. He’s nineteen now, almost twenty, as tall as I am, and training for the guard.”
“How old am I?”
“Twenty-five.”
“And you?” She shifted in the saddle, as if suddenly feeling her questions too prying.
“Twenty-nine,” he answered readily. He would tell her anything of himself, especially given that she knew everything about him already. Or she used to…
She pulled her lip between her teeth, the way she did when she was puzzling something. “Did you really believe I’d come back? After all this time?”
He shot her a look of surprise. “Why would I not?”
“Three years I’ve been gone. I could’ve been dead.”
“But you weren’t. And we didn’t know it would be three years. Each time I searched for you, I thought I’d find you. But the days turned to months, and the months turned to years.”