Page 7 of Heart of the Hunter (Band of Bastards #3)

“T he way out is around the next bend. Stay behind me and stay quiet until I am sure no one is near.” The crisp tang of autumn leaves filled Hunter’s nostrils as a gust of air cooled his face.

The faint gray light of the moon shone through the gap in the stones that opened out onto the hill below the castle wall.

The rocks were at such an angle that the opening blended into the contour of the terrain and was concealed by the tree trunks and leafy brush growing on the steep incline.

The foliage on the hill would provide some cover as they descended, but once they reached the bottom, they would have to cross a wide swath of land that had been cleared specifically to make anyone trying to approach the castle more visible.

Once they reached the far side of the clearing, they would then be in the safety of a thick forest and the rest of their escape would be less complicated.

He peered around the edge of the stones and listened for any sign of danger, then eased through the opening with Anora behind him, her hand still in his as he led her down the slope toward the clearing.

The feel of his fingers wrapped around hers distracted him in a way that was wholly unexpected.

He liked the possessiveness of the gesture, the way it made him feel like she was his to protect, and the sense of pride that swelled in his chest at the thought that he had a purpose that went beyond him.

The realization sent a shockwave through his body and his head buzzed in warning.

He released his hold on her hand, his instinct to detach from anything or anyone who could become a hindrance to him.

And Anora was certainly someone who could cloud his judgment if he wasn’t careful.

It was why he had avoided the goldsmith shop in recent weeks, because when he was in her presence, he seemed to forget the hazards of an infatuation.

His mind had become susceptible to foolish thoughts about her; thoughts of things that did not fit into the life of a man like him; thoughts he had to keep at bay for her sake as much as his.

With a quick shake of his head, he sharpened his focus to the task at hand.

If he didn’t time their sprint across the clearing to the trees correctly, the guards on the wall above would see them.

He looked overhead, gauging the cloud cover for the most opportune moment to be cloaked in darkness, then craned his neck to scan the parapets for immediate danger.

Once he’d assured himself the risks were minimal and the moment optimal, he reached for her hand and guided her across the grassy meadow.

God above, but he wished Anora did not have to be subjected to this danger.

If he knew a better way to get her away from here safely, he’d take it.

How the hell did she get in the castle, anyway?

He’d question her later about it, and probably want to ring her delicate neck again for the danger she put herself in.

As soon as they were well in the cover of the trees, he stopped and turned back to check for anyone watching from the wall. Thankfully, all was clear. “Are you all right?”

“Aye.” She put her hands to her waist and stretched tall as she took several deep breaths. “Oh, no!”

He’d not heard anything save her heavy breathing but immediately moved to block her from whatever had caught her attention as he scanned the forest for danger.

“What is it?” He scanned around them in the darkness, looking for men behind trees or sitting in branches.

Despite the clouds that continued to block most of the light from the moon, he could see a fair distance and saw nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’ve dropped my pouch with the keys. The tie must have come loose.”

He turned to face her, ready to tell her the pouch and keys would have to remain lost, but if she lost them in the tunnel and the baron found them, it would become considerably more difficult to sneak into the castle again, as any man with half a brain would seal the passage.

“Do you have any idea where you lost them?” he asked, rubbing his fingers over his forehead to sooth the pounding that had begun in his temples.

“I had them when we were in the chapel. I remember touching my hand to the pouch to ensure it was still there when I was of a mind to find my own way out of the castle.”

He felt certain he would have heard the pouch drop on the wooden planks of the floor if it had been lost there. That meant the pouch was likely in the tunnel. He contemplated whether it was too much of a risk to go back for them. “What else was in the pouch?”

“The keys, a few coins, and a few small smithing picks in case I needed them for the locks.”

He made a note to ask her later who had made her the pass keys and taught her to pick open locks, but there wasn’t time to dwell on that now. “Are they the same picks you use in the shop?”

“Yes, but I can have more made.”

“True, but if anyone with a discerning eye finds them, they will recognize them as the tools of a goldsmith. The baron will know they do not belong to anyone in his employ. And if they are in the tunnel, he will know someone has discovered his escape route.” Hunter sighed. “I will have to go back for them.”

“I think it will be where you picked me up when I thought rats to be crawling on me, but how will you ever find them in the pitch black of the tunnel?” He could hear the desperation in Anora’s voice. “’Tis too great a risk. Let’s be on our way.”

“No. The baron will find the pouch eventually and close off the access, which will make my work more difficult.” He scanned the woods to assure himself they were still alone, then waited as a pair of guards passed by on the wall walk of the castle.

He knew from earlier reconnaissance that the guards would pass by this stretch of the castle wall about every quarter of an hour.

He nudged Anora in the direction of a large tree and said, “Stand against that tree trunk and wait for my return. I will not be gone long.”

He waited until she had done as asked, made his way back across the meadow while he kept his gaze on the parapets of the castle, then climbed the hill to the opening of the tunnel.

It was difficult enough to find the crevasse behind the rocks in the daylight, and in the dark even more of a challenge, but he had memorized the contour of the hillside and found his way back without difficulty.

The tunnel was pitch black as he made his way by feel to the point where Anora had had her panicked episode of terror over the rats.

After a few moments of shuffling his feet along the tunnel floor, his toe connected with a soft mound that carried some heft.

He was relieved when he reached down to pick it up that it wasn’t a dead rat and was indeed the pouch of keys and other bits.

He’d exited the tunnel and was part way down the hill when he heard Anora’s voice in the distance, along with another voice that most definitely belonged to a man.

Fear like he’d not known since he was a boy punched him in the gut.

If anything happened to her, he’d have failed another woman, and he’d never forgive himself.

At the bottom of the hill, he stopped and assessed the situation.

An opening in the cloud cover afforded some moonlight and he could see two men dressed in tabards—likely patrols from Castle Whyte—standing at the edge of the clearing with Anora.

Red-hot rage coursed through his veins and his vision blurred.

His first instinct was to race across the clearing and kill both men with his bare hands before they could touch Anora.

But that would attract the attention of the guards on the parapets, and they’d all end up dead.

How had this night gone so wrong? He’d expected to be in and out of the castle in less than an hour with his mission complete and none the wiser to his presence. If it hadn’t been for Anora, he’d already be on his horse and riding toward Hawkspur and his bed.

This was why he worked alone.

He could pretend that he wasn’t going to risk his life to save her hide, or that he was too calloused and wrecked to have room in his heart to care.

There were very few people in the whole of the world that he would consider sacrificing the mission or himself to save.

He’d learned a long time ago not to let emotions get in the way of the goal, which was why there was no one in the kingdom more lethal than him.

“Hell and damnation,” he muttered to himself, repeating the curse Anora had used when she couldn’t find what she wanted in the chest. He could recite a litany of more vulgar words, but none were more appropriate in the current situation because he’d crawl through the fires of hell and commit his soul to damnation before he’d let anything happen to Anora.