Page 12

"Tired?" he asked, drawing his mount to a halt beneath a wide elm tree, its sparse shade dappled and broken on the mossy ground.

Agnes gave him a look that was more weary than irritated. "Aye. I’m nae made o’ iron like ye, ye ken."

He watched her dismount with a groan and nearly stumble on her feet, catching herself just in time.

Tav bit the inside of his cheek. They were close to the main road, too close for his liking.

He knew the terrain, that if anyone was tracking them, or merely traveling the same direction, they might be spotted.

Still, she was pale, lips dry. They’d been riding since morning with only a brief stop to water the horses.

He scanned the thicket ahead and then looked to his left, where the sound of trickling water filtered through the trees.

A narrow stream, not ideal but it would have to do.

"We should keep going," he said, adjusting the strap on his satchel. "Another hour or so, and we’ll be well away from the road."

"But there’s water here," she protested, nodding toward the sound. "And I’m hungry. I’m nae some dainty lass prone tae swooning, but I will if ye keep pushing like this."

He exhaled slowly through his nose. "It’s nae safe."

Agnes crossed her arms and tilted her chin up at him. "Well, that’s a first. Ye admitting ye care."

"I care about completing the task I was given."

The jab was instinct, a shield thrown up before he could stop himself. But the look she gave him in return was like a fist to the gut. She was startled, hurt, and then she shuttered all in a matter of heartbeats.

Better if she's hurt, better that she thinks this is just a task.

The thought slithered through Tav's mind.

Part of him willed it, because if she kept looking at him with that boldness, kept pressing closer with that reckless courage, he'd shatter what little restraint remained.

Yet when he imagined her wounded, truly wounded, something vicious twisted behind his ribs.

His breath caught, his throat tightened, and for one suspended moment, his body forgot how to draw air entirely.

"Ah," she said, quieter now. "Right. The task. "

She turned from him and led her horse toward the sound of the stream. Tav stood there a moment, fighting the urge to curse himself aloud, before following.

They reached the bank in silence. The stream wasn’t more than a few feet across, water trickling over smooth stones, bordered by tall ferns and low brush.

Agnes tied her horse to a tree and knelt to splash her face.

Tav did the same, keeping one eye on the road visible through the breaks in the trees.

They laid out the small provisions he’d packed: dried meat, a bit of bread, a hunk of cheese wrapped in linen. Agnes nibbled at hers, sitting on a flat stone and letting her boots rest in the grass. She said nothing.

The silence was a double-edged sword. He hated how it pressed against his ribs like a physical weight, yet he clung to it desperately.

This was the only space where he could wrestle his feelings into submission.

Better if she didn’t speak to him. Better she saw him as just another guard standing post. Wasn’t that the truth of it, anyway?

But her anger had been justified. He’d made it sound like she was the burden, when the real weight was his own traitorous heart. Every glance she spared him, every careless brush of her sleeve against his arm, were all stones added to the load he carried.

He sat down opposite her, his back to a tree, and looked at the small rise and fall of her shoulders.

"I only meant... it’s nae safe tae linger. That’s all."

She looked up at him then. Her eyes weren’t angry. Just tired. Tired of being hauled around like cargo, tired of being talked down to. And he didn’t blame her.

"Then I’ll try tae eat faster," she said lightly, forcing a smile.

He didn’t return it. Couldn’t.

She sighed and leaned back on her hands, the sun catching the curve of her throat. A drop of water from the stream clung to her jawline before it slid down. He forced his eyes away.

"It’s only—" he started, then stopped. He didn't know how to say it. That being near her was like standing too close to a fire he had no business warming his hands at.

"Only what?" she asked, and there was no malice in it. Only quiet curiosity.

He reached for a piece of bread and tore at it with his fingers. "It’s nae personal."

"Isnae it?"

His gaze snapped to hers, and something in his chest fractured at what he found there. Her eyes were wide, not with fear but with a raw vulnerability that pierced through his defenses like morning light through castle arrow-slits.

"Feels personal," she said, voice soft now.

He swallowed hard. "It’s complicated."

Agnes gave a humorless little laugh. "Isnae it always."

The silence returned, though this time it didn’t sit between them like a wall, but something softer.

She turned her face up to the sunlight filtering through the canopy, long lashes brushing her cheeks.

For a moment, he let himself look, at the curve of her jaw, the slight smile tugging at her mouth, the way the light caught in the strands of her hair.

Duty, Tav. Nae desire.

A bird called somewhere in the trees, its song high and mournful. Tav stood first, brushing crumbs from his palms and reaching for the reins. Agnes remained seated a moment longer, arms looped around her knees. Her eyes followed the water, not him.

“We should move,” he said, but his voice lacked bite. It was quieter now, thoughtful.

Before she could answer, the low murmur of voices drifted through the trees. Both of them froze.

Tav’s head snapped toward the break in the brush that led back to the road, where the sound had come from.

It was faint, like wind winding through branches, but there was laughter, and the shuffle of hooves on packed earth.

At first, nothing unusual. Just travelers, perhaps merchants or farmers heading to the next village.

Still, he stepped forward instinctively, placing himself between Agnes and the sound, one hand dropping to the hilt of his sword.

“They’ll pass,” Agnes whispered, standing now, brushing dirt from her skirts.

But they didn’t pass.

The voices grew clearer, slowing. They were maybe twenty yards off, but the words carried just enough through the trees for Tav’s blood to run cold.

“…said they left the castle two days back.”

A pause. Then another voice, lower, gruffer.

“Then they’ll be on the south road, like the scouts said. Laird Armstrong’s expectin’ results, and I’m nae keen tae be the one tellin’ him we lost them.”

Tav didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Agnes had gone still beside him, her fingers clutching the edge of her cloak.