a pity she would never meet her. Although she was careful not to broach the subject, R’shiel fascinated Adrina. Damin spoke of her in such glowing terms that she might have been jealous, but for two very good reasons. The first was Tarja. He was so completely besotted with the girl, that if he thought Damin’s motives were anything but honourable, he’d have killed the Warlord long ago. The second was Damin. Jealousy would imply she had some feeling for the man, and of course she didn’t, so there was nothing to be jealous about.
Adrina unsaddled her mount and dumped her gear near the small fire that one of the Defenders had started. Tarja had ordered at least one night with a fire and a hot meal. If he was feeling the strain of the pace he set, then he knew some of the others would be at the point of exhaustion. Adrina had tried not to look too happy when she heard the news, but poor Tam’s expression had been pathetically grateful. The slave wasn’t accustomed to long hours in the saddle, and Adrina looked a picture of health compared to her faithful companion.
“Can I take your horse, my Lady?”
Adrina turned and smiled wearily at Damin’s captain. Almodavar was a fearsome-looking brute, but he was quite the gentleman underneath all that leather and chainmail.
“Thank you, Captain, but it’s every man for himself on this journey. I can take care of my horse. You have other things to do.”
“Aye, your Highness, but I have a few young studs with more energy than sense. I’ll see she’s cared for. You take the chance to rest while you can.”
Adrina was too tired to argue. “Thank you.”
Almodavar led the mare toward the picket line. He had sent someone for Tam’s horse too. She turned to find Tamylan by the fire, warming her hands and swaying on her feet.
“Sit down before you fall down, Tam.”
“I’ll stand, if you don’t mind. In fact if I never sit down again, it will be fine by me.”
By the time darkness fell completely, Adrina was feeling a little better. A hot meal and a warm fire eased her aching muscles. Damin and Tarja did not join them until long after they had eaten. Tam had already fallen asleep and Adrina’s eyes were drooping. The only reason she was still awake was her inability to find a comfortable position.
“Come on, sleepy. Time for some exercise.”
“Don’t be absurd. I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“I know, but trust me. If you stretch your legs now you’ll be much better for it in the morning.”
Damin reached down and grabbed her hand, hauling her to her feet.
“Leave me alone!”
“Stop complaining. You sound like a spoilt princess.”
“I
“Who am I to argue with royalty? Are you coming, Tarja?”
“No. I have to check on the sentries. Enjoy your walk, your Highness.” She couldn’t see his face clearly in the darkness, but she could hear his amusement.
“I’ll bet he doesn’t laugh at R’shiel,” she grumbled as Damin pulled her along beside him. It was bitterly cold and the uneven ground made her muscles cry out in protest.
“Would you laugh at someone who could fry you with a look?”
“How can you possibly be in such a good mood?”
“I’ve still got my head on my shoulders. In this business that’s daily cause for celebration. Take longer strides. The idea is to stretch your legs out, not mince along like you’re at court.”
“I do not
“I do beg your pardon, your Highness.”
“Don’t patronise me either.”
“You’re in a right temper tonight. I thought you’d be happy to be free.”
“I’m cold and I’m tired, Damin. I feel like someone’s tied me in a sack and beaten me with a pole for an hour or two. I don’t have the energy to be happy about anything.”
He slowed his pace a little and put his arm around her shoulder. “I’m tired too. And I’m cheerful because I’m a Warlord and nothing is supposed to bother me.”
“I’m not one of your hired hands, you know. You’re not morally obliged to keep my spirits up.”
He laughed softly, but did not answer. They kept walking through the darkness away from the fires, although they stayed within the ring of sentries posted around the camp. Adrina could make out the silhouette of a guard every fifty paces or so, their eyes fixed on the open ground beyond the trees.
It was much warmer with his arm around her and after a time her legs seemed to loosen up a little. The respite was temporary, though. Tomorrow they would resume their killing pace.
“How long till we reach the river?” she asked after a long period of companionable silence.
“Seven or eight days, I guess. Tarja could tell you exactly.”
“Are we going to keep this pace up for another
“No. The horses couldn’t take it, even if we could. We’ll ease up in a day or so.”
“You think Cratyn will come after us, don’t you?”
He nodded, all trace of his previous good humour gone. “Jenga won’t tell him where you are, but there are plenty of people who know you were in the camp. We have to assume he’ll hear about it, sooner rather than later.”
“What if he catches us?”
“He won’t. We’ve got too big a head start and we’re not stopping for anything. Once we’ve crossed the Glass River, he’ll have no chance of finding us.” He stopped and pulled her to him, kissing her forehead lightly. “Stop worrying about it.”
She lay her head on his shoulder and stood in the circle of his arms, surprised at how comforting it was. It was a real pity he was a Hythrun. She could easily grow accustomed to this. To feel so secure, so...
“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” he chided. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to carry you all the way back.”
She drew back from him, annoyed that he had disturbed her pleasant, if rather unrealistic, daydreams. “You are so rude sometimes! I’m sure you do it just to aggravate me.”
“Rude I might be, but I’m still not going to carry you,” he said with a grin.
“A true nobleman would.”
“That’s because most true nobleman are inbred morons with more brawn than brains. I could cite your husband as a prime example.”
“I didn’t choose him, you know.”
“Which says something for your good taste, I suppose. Come on, we’d best get back before Tarja sends out a search party.”
Stifling a yawn, Adrina took his hand and they walked back towards the fire and the welcome prospect of a good night’s sleep. She glanced at him as they walked back through the darkened trees and reminded herself sternly that Damin Wolfblade might be very disarming when he wanted, but he was, first and foremost, her enemy. His desire to keep her from Cratyn was nothing more than political, and she had better not forget it.
They were on the move by first light the next day. Poor Tam was on the verge of tears as she struggled to mount her horse, but Adrina found she was much better than she expected. Although she would have preferred to ride with Damin or Tarja, she took her usual place in the very centre of the column surrounded by Raiders, Defenders and Fardohnyans who had orders to die before any harm was allowed to befall her.
They kept to the road that wound south towards Cauthside, in part because it was the fastest route, and in part to disguise the size of their group. They had left the border in significant numbers and there was no need for any pursuing force to think that had changed. Scouts ranged ahead and behind them, scouring the countryside for signs of pursuit, or unexpected danger. Now that Medalon had surrendered, any Defenders they met heading north would be enemies and both Tarja and Damin agreed that in this case running was more prudent than fighting.
She had heard them discussing their plans late into the night as she lay by the fire, her head resting in Damin’s lap and he unconsciously stroked her hair. She drifted into sleep listening to Tarja explain his plans for the men who waited for him in Testra.
She understood now why Jenga had wanted Tarja to resign from the corps, why he wanted him to escape the border while he still could. It had little to do with the Lord Defender’s affection for him. Tarja was an expert guerilla fighter and Jenga wanted him to do to the Kariens what he had done to the Defenders when he led the
