Page 79 of Taming the Eagle
Justin’s mouth lifted at the corners, although his gaze was somber. “I was waiting for him to come to me … and he did.”
Facing him, Fenella struggled to keep her composure. There was so much she wanted to say—so much she wouldn’t.
“I will never forget you,” Justin said softly.
The rawness in his voice, the pain in those amber eyes, nearly undid her. “Goodbye, Justin,” she whispered. Then, throat aching, she vaulted up onto the pony’s back.
“Keep off the roads.” Justin’s voice had a strangled edge to it now. “There will be a lot of soldiers traveling south … you don’t want to meet them.” Their gazes met then. “Safe journeying, Fenella.”
Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded. She gathered the reins then and dug her heels into the pony’s furry sides. It sprang forward into a jolting trot. They headed off down the street toward the main entrance to the fort.
Dawn was breaking fully now, the first rays of sun peeking over the eastern ramparts, but Fenella focused on the looming gate ahead, the outline of the jagged iron teeth of the raised portcullis.
True freedom beckoned—and yet no excitement beat in her breast at the prospect. Instead, despair sat in her gut like a great stone.
She needed to get out of here, to put all of this behind her.
Fenella swallowed convulsively now. It felt as if someone was grasping her throat—a reminder that no matter how far or fast she rode, she wouldn’t be able to forget Justinian Aquila.
Standing upon the wooden tower above the Porta Praetoria, Justin watched the woman atop a shaggy bay fen pony trot down the causeway. He’d followed her along the street, and then taken the steps up to the wooden tower above the main entrance.
There were four sentries up here, and upon seeing the general step up onto the wall, they all snapped to rigid attention, saluting.
“At ease,” Justin greeted them, moving closer to the edge of the ramparts, his gaze never leaving Fenella. “This isn’t an inspection.”
From this height, his lover looked tiny seated upon the stocky, feather-footed pony.
But when he’d seen her walking toward him earlier, dressed as she’d been that day at Lake Taus, his heart had started beating so hard it felt as if it would tear itself free from his chest.
As long as he lived, he’d remember her that way: the huntress he’d met in the pinewood, a bow slung over her back and fire in her eyes.
He’d taken her into his household, forced her into a life that wasn’t hers.
Was it any surprise things had ended this way?
He’d retrieved Fenella’s old clothing from Kahina the eve before. The slave had been curious, but he’d assured her he’d explain all the following morning—and he would. Once he could breathe again, once he didn’t feel as if he were being buried alive.
He watched as Fenella urged the pony into a canter, her hair flying behind her now. A thin mist curled in from the river this morning, drifting across the wet grass—and moments later, it swallowed pony and rider whole.
Reaching out, Justin gripped the palings closest, anchoring himself there. It was either that or turn, race down from the wall, and pursue his lover into the mist. Sweat slicked his skin, his heart pounding so loudly it deafened him. His life was unraveling, and the urge to try and yank back control was overwhelming.
Stultissime.
Yes, he’d been a complete idiot—and now he was paying the price.
In his arrogance, he’d assumed that once he freed Fenella, she’d readily agree to be his wife. It had been a punch to the gut when she’d refused him. He could give her so much—love, companionship, and security—but instead, she’d chosen freedom.
Justin clenched his jaw hard, his teeth aching under the strain.
He didn’t want to lose the woman he loved, and yet he’d let her go.
Too late, he’d realized she wasn’t his to keep.
XXIX. ASHES
FENELLA DREW UP her mount on the shore of Loch Tatha, her gaze sweeping over the ruin of what had once been a thriving crannog. Now, only the burned-out shells of dwellings and walkways remained, their blackened outline reflected against the glistening water of the loch.
She’d ridden north, heading for the Cairngorms as Justin had suggested. However, along the way, she’d made a slight detour. As she’d suspected, no one had rebuilt Toutorix’s crannog.