Page 80 of Taming the Eagle
Heaving a sigh, Fenella leaned forward and stroked her pony’s sweat-damp neck. They’d ridden hard all day to reach their destination by mid-afternoon. She could have pressed on, yet she was weary.
Tonight she’d camp on the shore of the loch, and tomorrow she’d make for the Cairngorms. She could see the mountains rising to the north. The tallest of them, Ben Macdui, was still frosted with snow.
Fenella swung down from the pony and led it along the shore, away from the skeleton of the crannog.
The chieftain of the Wolves of the North was dead now, his people leaderless. Fenella should have felt relieved that she wouldn’t have to face him, but today she found it difficult to feel anything at all.
After leaving Ardoch, numbness had descended upon her.
She’d taken Justin’s advice and stayed off the roads the Caesars had built, straight lines that tore through the landscape. And it was just as well, for when she’d crested one of the heather-strewn hills and glanced east, she’d seen a company of soldiers, marching south, crimson and steel gleaming in the sunlight.
Fenella knew she should have ridden on, should have ensured she stayed out of sight, yet she’d watched them all the same.
Even though they were abandoning the north, there was nothing chaotic about these men. They marched in neat rows, flanked by the cavalry that had been sent to escort them to safety. Banners fluttered in the breeze.
They were returning to Ardoch.
Turning away, Fenella had ridden on, urging her pony into a fast canter so that the wind whipped against her face and tore through her hair. She had been glad the journey was long today. She needed to keep moving.
But now she had to stop. The day was gradually fading, and as she gathered wood for a fire, memories of all she’d left behind crept in.
The numbness started to thaw, and her throat constricted.
“Stop it,” she muttered aloud. “Don’t think of him.”
But the emotions she’d denied all day had no wish to be silenced. And when Fenella finally sat down before her fire and retrieved the satchel Justin had provided for the journey, they gripped her by the throat once more.
Her belly had been in knots all day. Indeed, she hadn’t eaten since supper of the day before. She still wasn’t hungry, yet she now felt light-headed from lack of food. And so, jaw clenched, she opened the satchel and withdrew the bread, boiled eggs, and cheese.
Looking down at the meal, Fenella’s vision swam. Moments later, tears were running down her face and splashing onto the bread.
“Idiot,” she gasped. “Why are you weeping?”
This was what she wanted. She was a free woman now. Finally, her future was her own. She should be rejoicing, not crying.
But that didn’t stop her from grieving for what she’d lost.
Aye, she was free, yet never again would she look up from her work to see Justin Aquila striding toward her, his helmet under his arm, his golden gaze seeking hers out. Never again would she hear the low timbre of his voice, feel his touch—or relax into the safety of his arms.
All of it was gone, blown away like oat husks in the wind.
She had deliberately let it go.
A sob clawed its way up Fenella’s throat, yet she choked it back. She couldn’t let herself weep over Justin, not while everything was so raw.
“Fen?”
Sucking in a sharp breath, she snapped upright, blinking away tears, even as she reached for the knife she’d found with her food. She’d thought she was alone here on the edge of the loch, but it seemed she wasn’t.
A lanky figure approached.
Coming to her feet, Fenella saw a familiar face. “Eogan?”
Joy exploded in her breast, eclipsing her grief for a few instants. Although she hadn’t found her brother amongst the dead at Ardoch, it was a relief to see he hadn’t been badly injured either.
They hugged, the embrace brief and hard, although Eogan’s brow furrowed when he drew back. “You look upset, sister.” His gaze scanned her face. “Fear not, we are all safe and well.”
Fenella’s breathing caught, guilt crushing her chest.