Page 39

Chapter

Thirty-Four

Adara

“ S top!” Adara screeched as she felt Grahame’s arm loosen from around her waist. He was slumping to the side a heartbeat later. She twisted, catching him under his arms, using all her strength to hold him upright as Ulrich halted.

Hagan dismounted, crashing through the woods in the dark. He reached up, steadying his hand on Grahame’s leg as Grahame faded in and out of consciousness mumbling, “we there?”

“I’ve got him,” Hagan said, his determined expression worn.

It shaved a little of Adara’s resolve. They’d been travelling the better part of the night through the forest in silence.

Neither Thor nor Muretta gave in to idle chatter.

Beneath the half moon’s brightness, the travel had been slow.

Creatures scurried away from the plodding horses, which nickered for having to tromp through the dark.

Thankfully, their steeds were able to stick to the old deer trail Adara knew.

Grahame had been leaning heavily on her most of the way.

She was grateful for the strength in his arm around her, though it had slackened over time.

Adara chewed her lip and kept on, burying her worry over his injuries in favor of putting space between them and her father.

Adara strained to hear the thunder of hooves, the snap of men through the brush.

“I cannot let him go,” she said, a sob breaking through the words.

Grahame tipped dangerously, his legs slack, his head lolling. Hagan held his upper body in preparation to bring him down. Her muscles strained as she clung to Grahame, uncaring of the blood and dirt that stained her clothes.

“I know. I know, My Lady,” Hagan soothed.

Within a moment, Thor was there, holding Grahame’s leg to offer support. Something warm and wet slipped down her cheek. She sniffed, willing the stinging in her nose away.

“We have him,” Thor urged.

Gently, Adara loosened her grasp, allowing Grahame to slide into Hagan’s outstretched arms. His sheer strength propped up Grahame enough to bring him gently to the ground with Thor’s help.

Adara jumped down as soon as she let go. The pain in her foot spiked anew. She bit her lip against it. At Grahame’s side, she slid her hands along his middle, his shoulders, his arms. In the dark, it was impossible to see his injuries. They did not dare chance a fire lest someone see them.

“He needs care,” Hagan muttered, his face cloaked in shadow.

Adara nodded. The bridge of her nose stung with the tears that loomed.

“What have we in the packs?”

“Some food, weapons. A few blankets. No clothing or dressings. Muretta did her best to grab as much as she could.”

Adara pressed her lips together. The anticipation of an arrow spearing into one of their backs still haunted her. Despite her father’s men not following past the treeline, no part of her thought they’d given up.

“We hazard a torch. I need to see…”

“Adara,” Muretta knelt beside her on the forest floor. She ran a hand over Adara’s cheek. Adara wanted to let herself weep. To bury herself in her husband’s side and let the forest grow over them.

“Adara, love, we need to keep moving. We can put Grahame over the horse sideways. I’ll help bind what wounds we can see,” Muretta said, her tone urgent.

Grahame didn’t move as Adara put pressure on the meat of his shoulder. Her hands were coated with something sticky. She knew it to be blood, but there was too much of it. Some of it had dried and caked to his clothing but any pressure she applied caused more.

Hot tears spilled down Adara’s cheeks. Grahame had to get up. He had to be alright.

“We need a torch. We have to bind everything. We waited too long, he could be injured in more places…”

Her words were frantic things that dissolved in the air.

Something that felt like a rock was rising in her chest, choking the breath from her.

Grahame couldn’t die like this. If she got him to safety, she would march herself right back into her father’s clutches just to ensure he didn’t go after Grahame again.

But he had to survive. There was no world without him.

A heavy hand settled on the back of her neck, soothing in its strength. Thor’s voice came next, soft in the night.

“My Lady, Muretta’s right. We will dress his wounds the best we can, then we must keep moving.”

How could they keep moving when her heart was shattering?

“Listen.”

Grahame’s voice.

Adara gasped, her hands flying to his chest, her face just above his to catch any word that passed his lips.

“I’m here, Grahame.”

“Listen to them,” he ground out. “Fix me up; get me on a horse. Keep moving.”

His hand found her leg. She took it up, grasping it as she pressed a kiss to his blood-stained fingers. Spirals of moonlight revealed the shadow of a smile twisting his mouth.

“Would be rude of me to die after finally marrying you, wouldn’t it?”

A laugh pushed its way through her tears. “Indeed. So don’t,” she begged.

Behind her, Muretta grunted, the rustling of a saddlebag echoed through the branches. The rip of shredding cloth was next. Bhlaine had taken up the spot Muretta abandoned, his wizened face stricken.

“Please, allow me to help, Lady,” her housemaster said, hands outstretched with the cloth Muretta had passed him.

Hagan settled himself behind Grahame and used his strength to prop him up so Adara could bind his shoulder.

“Here?” she asked, praying for an answer.

Something shiny leaked from Grahame at the movement. The metallic scent of blood stung the air.

Grahame grunted. A line of pain appeared between his eyebrows as he grimaced. “Think that kick to the middle might’ve cracked a rib. Nothing hours on a horse won’t fix.”

Adara forced a chuckle as she wrapped the material around his shoulder and upper arm. No part of her felt like laughing, but she knew he joked for her sake.

“’Dara,” Grahame said softly when they’d finished.

Hagan laid him back down. He and Muretta spoke quietly by the horses while Thor passed Bhlaine a water skin. Adara remained beside Grahame, her hands holding one of his.

“You have to promise me something.”

“Anything.” She leaned over him to hear better yet couldn’t help herself: she grazed her lips along his matted hairline.

“When your father comes, you make sure you say I took you.”

Grahame’s eyes narrowed to slits as she shook her head.

“You must. I took you or you were blackmailed by me so had to save me. Or think of anything else that will soften his judgement upon you. You slayed the groom your father brought. You are powerful in your own right. I have faith you can survive this. You have to promise me you’ll survive this. ”

Adara shook her head as he spoke words that were like boulders upon her soul. “Stop it. Stop talking like you won’t be beside me if my father finds us. You and I are bound. We are one. There is no leaving one another, not again. I would rather—”

Grahame’s free hand was against her lips before she could say more. His eyes were bright. “You are mine and I am yours. But if there is a chance, you must take it, Adara. Promise.”

She shook her head against his hand, her lips rasping against his palm.

“You said anything,” he said, pushing himself up on an elbow.

Pain flared in his gaze and Adara’s hands went to his body to push him back down.

“Fine, yes. I will do it,” she snapped. Tears flared in her eyes once again.

He didn’t understand. She would not go back to a life under the rule of her father. She detested the thought of the brutality he would inflict on her. Trying to kill Grahame while she was out for a walk was positively gentle in comparison to what he likely had planned for her now.

Worse, she could not go on without Grahame.

He’d forever changed her when they met that summer, and his memory was with her every day after.

His teasing smiles, his willingness to go along with her plans, the way his body played hers in a way that made her feel valued and loved for the first time in her miserable existence?

There was no turning away from the life Grahame had breathed into her. Ever. They were one.

The night held them as they proceeded through the forest. Though it irked her, Hagan had taken responsibility for Grahame after Grahame insisted he could ride.

Much to Thorhild’s amusement, he rode in the cage of Hagan’s arms while Muretta rode with Thor, and Bhlaine sat behind Adara.

Grahame dozed most of the journey, commenting sporadically on their path not being the way to Hyrstow.

While slivers of dawn pressed through the canopy, Adara sagged in relief as they approached the section of river they could cross.

It was wider than other areas, but held a slower current and had a shallow base if you knew where to tread.

Adara knew it well, for it was the way she’d spied on Hyrstow all those months ago.

Though the horses were reluctant to cross, they splashed in when commanded.

The frigid water was a shock to Adara’s feet and legs up to her knees.

She sucked in a greedy breath to steady herself. The others did the same.

“If I wasn’t awake already, I sure am now!” Grahame called in a worn voice. “Wait. We’ve been travelling west for miles. Is this how you made it to Hyrstow?”

Adara’s clenched teeth morphed into a grin at Grahame’s recognition.

“We’ve actually been travelling southwest. Through the Bernira Kingswood and further into Deircia territory.”

“That’s how you did it. How you avoided my parents’ homestead during the raid. You never even came that way.” The wonder in her husband’s tone thrilled her.

Adara tightened her grip on the reins as the horse climbed up the river’s shallow bank.

She remained silent as they watered the horses and devoured a few morsels of bread.

Worry as to their reception began to sink into her.

Hyrstow’s son was returning injured, and she was the one who had terrorized the village.

Her father would not look for them there; however, Adara knew she was trading one life-threatening situation for another.

How welcoming would Ridley and Yrsa be? Fear gripped her about the throat at the prospect of finding out.

They trudged on with the sunrise, weary. Not long past the river, Adara’s head was nodding with fatigue when a voice rang through the woods.

“Halt if you wish to live!”