Page 18 of Torin and His Oath (Torin and the Princess #2)

LEXI

W e rode in silence for a while, the horses picking their way carefully down the rocky slope.

Then I asked, “If you didn’t call me Princess, because I was such a pain in the arse?—”

He chuckled. “Och, Princess, I call ye Princess when ye are a pain in the arse, and Princess when ye are nae. There is a subtle difference.”

I laughed. “Very funny. But if you didn’t call me that, what would you call me?”

“I am nae allowed tae call ye anything else. Tis yer title.”

“What if I gave you permission?”

“I daena think ye can give me permission.”

“Why not? I’m the princess. I could command you to stop, though you haven’t stopped, even though I have told you not to, but... just wondering.”

He looked up at the sky, nonchalantly and teased, “Ye hae a verra high opinion of yer powers, Princess, but ye are nae so high that ye can give me permission tae call ye something else.”

“But… that doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does. What if ye gave me permission tae call ye by yer given name and I called ye ‘Lexi’ — what if someone overheard me? What if Max overheard it? Och, he would think me a scoundrel. He would believe I hae taken liberties with ye tae speak of ye so familiarly.”

“But you call him Max!”

“Aye, he has given me permission.”

I joked, “This is infuriating.”

He said, “A man, such as m’self, canna call ye by yer familiar name, Princess. Twould be disrespectful, unless we were husband and wife.”

“If you were my husband what would you call me?”

“If I were yer husband…? Then I would call ye whatever ye asked, or I might make up a nickname for ye?—”

“Something sweet and romantic?”

“Och aye, like… off the top of m’head, òinseach.”

“What does oy-shuch mean?”

“It means ye are a foolish woman for havin’ married me.”

I laughed.

He said, “See? Ye are better off keepin’ the title of Princess.”

“I suppose I am.”

We rode a little farther along, then I asked, “Can you tell me again about what happened to Max? I don’t think I understand.”

“He has a kingdom in a far away land, and he is the heir tae the throne.”

I thought about that for a moment, the motion of the horse rocking me gently left and right. We weren’t moving fast, just steady and I assumed it was fast enough to get us to shelter before the rain. But how would Torin know? He had no clock, no map, no forecast at his fingertips.

It was a marvel he even knew where to go. Still we stayed on the wide path, broad enough for drovers and cattle herds, though now it felt like it belonged to us alone, with the whole wide world stretched out on every side.

He continued, “Then his throne fell, the kingdom was lost tae a… a cousin, if I remember well. Max and his sister were sent intae the past tae live in safety, while his father fought for their throne.”

“I remember that part, you said he was brought up in the castle alongside you. His sister was given to a family nearby.”

“Aye, and Max lost contact with everyone in his family over time. He dinna ken what happened tae his sister, his father, his mother, or the kingdom. He was told that his father died in battle, but he dinna trust the person who told him, he daena ken if tis true.”

I exhaled. “That must be really hard.”

“Tis. He feared they were all gone…”

“I wish there was some way for me to believe you. This doesn’t make sense. I have lived a full life growing up with my parents. I’ve never known anything else. I just… I don’t get it.”

“Yet it remains true.”

I stayed quiet.

Finally we reached the bottom, and the path leveled out. Torin held me still, scanning up and down the path, then nudged us forward.

As soon as we stepped out onto it the bugs descended on us.

The first sign was the sound — a faint whine, like a mosquito with a personal grudge.

I swiped the back of my neck, expecting a rogue bug, but then another landed on my cheek.

Then my eyebrow. Then the side of my neck.

And another. And another. Within seconds my face was crawling.

I brushed them away, but more came. Tiny, grayish-black specks — hundreds of them, too small to squish, too many to ignore.

I squealed. “What is this?!” I smacked my face.

One went up my nose.

I flailed both hands frantically, trying to also hold on. Ferrari tossed his head, ears flicking furiously, tail lashing.

Torin turned slightly in the saddle ahead, his expression entirely unsurprised. “Midges, ye ken, ye haena met midges yet?”

“Torin! You’ve been everywhere with me, have we met midges yet? We haven’t!” I waved my arms.

They were everywhere . In my hair, my eyes, all over my legs. “The air is thick with them! They’re in my mouth! What are we going to do?”

Torin pulled a piece of cloth from his bag and wrapped it around his head and mouth, like a bandit. His voice came muffled. “We hae tae cover our skin, else we will be eaten alive.”

I pulled the cloak up over the back of my head, so that I was peeking out of the neck opening, keeping it as small as I could get it. It helped—barely.

“They’re going in my ears!” I spat, gagged slightly, then nearly fell off the saddle trying to swat at my elbow. The midges didn’t sting like bees. They itched , immediately, ferociously, like poison ivy with wings.

“Are we going to die here?”

“Nae, ye canna die by midges, I promise. They are just tae remind ye that the Scots prefer terrible weather. An hour of this and we will be prayin’ for rain.”

I slapped my calf.

“If ye hold on we can move again. We can out-walk them, but ye need tae hold on.”

“Fine.” I put my hands on the saddle horn again. “I’m holding on.” I slapped the back of my hand, and then waved away a cloud.

Torin brushed his hands up and down on his calves. “Och, midges love the late afternoon, they like tae bite ye tae send ye tae shelter.” He smacked his forehead.

“They’re everywhere!” I brushed my calves, setting up a bunch of them who were munching on me. “How much farther?”

“A little over an hour.”

He looked around at the sky. “But the rain is comin’, that will calm the wee beasties.”

I gritted my teeth and held on.

A few moments later I admitted, “Okay, moving is better. You were right, but my whole body itches.”

He pulled our little bottle of balm from the saddlebag and without slowing passed it to me. “Smear this on the itchin’ places.”

I got the balm open with one hand and dipped my fingers in. I smeared some on my face, my ears, and around my calves. “Will it work?”

“I daena ken. Tis soothin’ and the scent might offend them.”

“Want some?”

“Aye.” He pulled Lambo up beside me, took the bottle and pushed the shirt he had wrapped down to his neck. He smeared balm on his forehead, cheeks, and ears, then on his calves. “I think tis good.”

“Me too.” I nodded. “But we gotta keep these horses moving.”

He chuckled. “I never thought ye would say such a thing.”

We rode for a few more minutes before Torin stopped. He twisted in the saddle, scanning the path behind us.

“Ye hear that?”

I shook my head, peering down the track. “I don’t hear or see anything.”

He stayed still, listening. My own pulse roared louder in my ears than the quiet around us. Then I smacked at my leg — the midges had found me again.

Torin’s hand shot up, halting Lambo so abruptly that Ferrari nearly ran into him. His voice dropped, became sharp. “Dismount. Quiet.”

I had never dismounted by myself before, but I obeyed, swinging my leg over, my heart hammering. I half-slid, half-fell until my boots hit the ground.

Torin dismounted silently, his boots hit the ground beside me.

I clutched the side of the saddle, listening, and in the silence, I heard it — the soft steady thud of distant hooves.

Torin whispered, “They are followin’. Keepin’ pace.”

“How many?” I whispered.

“Tis two, I believe, perhaps three.” He cocked his head, listening. “They are careful not tae overtake us. Tis nae chance.”

He led our horses off the trail into a clump of gorse and pulled me down to crouch behind a rock. The midges descended on us, the damp earth was cold through my makeshift skirt.

Torin stood above me, holding both horses steady with one hand, the other resting on the hilt of his dirk. His breathing was calm, measured. “If they ride past, we wait,” he said with a low voice. “If they stop, I want ye tae run east, Princess. Daena ask, just run.”

I nodded, but because he wasn’t looking, I said, “Yes, okay,” then asked, “Which way is east?”

“Behind us.”

I checked over my shoulder. There was a ditch, a stream, and a wide moor.

If I were being chased… holy cannolis that was not good.

I gulped. Had Torin thought this through?

Was he honestly telling me, an upper-middle-class girl from North Carolina in the modern world, to just flee willy-nilly across a moor?

I truly doubted I was capable of it.

He wanted to protect me. He thought I was a princess. I doubted he really understood how far out of my element I was.

I was frightened, Torin was tense. I was huddled low while he crouched above me. I looked up at his face, his jaw set, his gaze intense.

It began to rain.

At first I was thankful because the cloud of midges dissipated.

But a few moments later I was drenched.

I prayed that the loudness of the rain, the dampening of sound, and the lowering of visibility would make it difficult for them to see us as they approached.

My pulse pounded as three riders emerged from the rain, and slowed, scanning the woods around the path.

One turned his horse, squinting through the storm. “He up ahead?”

Another said, “We passed him.”

Their eyes swept the roadside, way too close for comfort. I pressed my nails into my palms and held my breath.

Then one man pointed. “He’s up ahead.”

They turned their horses and moved on, disappearing into the rain.

Torin whispered, “Och nae.” He swiped water from his face, his eyes still sharp, calculating.

I asked, “What do we do?”

“I need tae get ye tae shelter.”

He stood in the shadows, watching for a minute before he crept a few more steps away. I kept my eyes on him, hard — visibility was low in the late afternoon rain. I felt like if I took my eyes away, for even a second, he would disappear.

He quietly returned, shaking his head. I wondered why... then realized, he looks like a man who has just come up with a dumb idea.

He crouched down in front of me and put a hand on both of my shoulders. “Princess, I am goin’ tae follow them for a bit, tae make certain they arna lyin’ in wait.”

He pulled the cloak up so the top edge covered my head. “I wish ye had a hood.”

I just blinked, incapable of saying anything from the shock of what he was about to do — I croaked out in disbelief, “You’re leaving me here?”

He reached in his sporran, pulled out the vessel, looked it over, then placed it in my lap. “You will have this, and yer horse. Dude is in the bag.”

I whispered, “But I don’t know how to ride a horse! What if something happens to you?”

“Ye will stay here and be verra quiet. I winna be long.”

“But… but… it’s too loud. I can barely hear you. It’s scary. It’s almost dark! What will happen?”

“Ye will go verra quiet and ye will wait and nae think of anything at all. I promise I will be back.”

“How will you find me? You keep doing this! It’s not okay to leave me in the middle of the wilderness!”

He pressed a finger to his lips. “Wheesht?—”

“Don’t wheesht me!”

“I ken right where ye are, stay right here, and I will return verra soon.”

And just like that, he was gone — while I was still opening and closing my mouth, too shocked and furious to figure out how to argue.

The rain came down in a deluge, pounding the earth, rattling the leaves, drowning out every other sound. Torin’s shadowy shape mounted Lambo and disappeared from my view.

And it was terrifying. I crouched by the rock, the cold seeping through my plaid, water running in rivulets down my spine, peering into the not quite darkness, with a desperate, total inability to see. So I stopped looking. I sat down with my back against the rock, completely drenched.

The storm was deafening. I clamped my palms over my ears, and tried to keep my breathing under control. I didn’t want to freak out, but oh shit, I was freaking out. I was having trouble…

My breath came too fast. Too shallow. My chest locked, my eyes were wild and unfocused. I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think.

Breathe, Lexi, just breathe. It was Cooper’s voice, but I couldn’t breathe… he wasn’t here and I missed him. I missed my house and my life and Jen, and it hit me truly — I would never see them again. Ever.

They would never know what happened to me, that I was crouched in a storm, terrified in the middle ages. That Torin left me in the forest in the rain, all alone.