down so he could again brush his lips tenderly against mine.
“Now I need to feed you,” he murmured against my lips, I sighed against his, his eyes, which were all I could see, lit with a light that I liked way too much then he let me go, took my hand and led me to the table.
Chapter Eleven
Sharing
Salem was clip clopping under us at a sedate canter as the magnificent countryside passed us by.
The clouds had shifted so now the sun shone and the view as far as the eye could see (and the stretch of what we’d already passed) was extraordinary.
Every inch of it.
I had, that day, learned two things.
One, a horse could look contrite. I discovered this when I walked outside and glared my displeasure at Salem. He gave me a look and if he could bite his lip, I knew he would. Instead, he ducked his head.
I let him suffer for about two seconds then I gave in, stroked his long, glossy nose and muttered, “I forgive you and anyway, you did the right thing, taking care of me and obeying your master at the same time. You’re a good horse.”
He blew in my neck.
Two, my husband could cook – on an old, iron wood-burning stove, no less. He made me eggs, bacon and thick slices of toast slathered in creamy, melty fresh butter. The food was awesome and not just because I hadn’t had anything to eat since the stew at Liza and Rory’s pub but because Tor could seriously cook. It was just eggs, bacon and toast but somehow he made it delicious.
After breakfast, we both mounted Salem even though there was another horse there (the one Tor used to track us). He left it saying he’d have his “people” deal with it just as they would deal with the dirty dishes we left.
It, obviously, was good being the future king.
I didn’t understand why we wouldn’t take the horse. I figured we could go much further much faster if we both had our own mounts but he disagreed. He told me if we were attacked, he could guard me much easier if I was close. Considering my inexperience as a horsewoman and warrior princess, I agreed.
As much as I hated it, I had to admit that I liked sitting in the sunshine atop Salem, feeling Tor’s big, strong body surrounding me, making me feel safe. Yesterday had been overcast and chilly, I felt the need to be constantly vigilant and I wasn’t a brilliant rider, only having been on a horse a handful of times in my life. Salem luckily knew what he was doing but riding was difficult, jarring, exhausting and it was nice to sit back and enjoy the ride.
Which, watching the splendiferous countryside pass us by as the sun warmed our bodies and Tor held me close, I was doing.
I relaxed further into him and asked, “How long before we get to your castle?”
“If we were able to take the main road, which we cannot for Minerva’s beings will be watching it, a day. The route we have to take, likely three,” Tor answered and I straightened, twisted and looked up at him.
“Three?”
“Yes, love, three.”
Holy crap. That was a serious detour.
I turned back and fell silent. In the distance I saw a bunch of deer lift their heads in our direction, sensing us. Then as a group they took off, gracefully running up a hill into a forest.
I’d never seen that many deer in my life. A few here and there, but there had to be thirty, maybe even forty of them.
Outstanding.
My eyes slid across the landscape, experiencing greens greener than I’d ever seen before, wildflowers running riot in the fields around Salem’s legs and beyond, a faraway body of water that was the blue of Tor’s eyes. In fact, it seemed strangely the very air sparkled like it had tiny pieces of near invisible glitter floating in it.
It was magical.
I sighed.
Then I decided to take a chance and rested my hand on Tor’s arm at my belly.
“Can I tell you something?” I asked.
“Anything, sweets,” he mumbled and I felt his chin come to rest where my neck met my shoulder.
Oh boy. That felt nice.
“Can you promise me something before I tell you?” I went on.
“Ask me and we’ll see,” he replied gently.
Well, that wasn’t a yes but it wasn’t a no and it was a maybe said in a tone I liked so I sallied forth.
“Okay, I want to talk about something you don’t believe and won’t like. But can you just pretend you believe or, I don’t know, just keep silent?”
I received no response for some time then his arm around me gave me a squeeze and he answered, “I can do that, Cora.”
“Really?” I whispered to the landscape.
“Really, love, what do you want to talk about?”
I pulled in a deep breath and then shared what had been niggling me deep in the back of my head for awhile.
“I’m not going home,” I said softly, his arm squeezed me again and I went on quickly. “No, don’t say anything. I know you think I am home but I’m not. And every time I go to sleep, I expect to wake up back in my apartment, in my life. But I’m not doing that. And as the days pass by, I’m wondering if I ever will. And there are a couple things about this that are nagging me.”
He didn’t lift his chin from my shoulder when he prompted, “And those are?”
“Well,” I started, “if I’m here, that means the other Cora is there. And if she’s like you say she is… um, I don’t think that’s good. See, my job is in danger. I’ve been there years and I make okay money but they’re looking for reasons to get rid of people. If she doesn’t figure out she has to work for a living, or decides not to, or figures it out, goes in and doesn’t know what she’s doing, which, by the way, in my world she can’t possibly know, or by some miracle, pulls that off but pisses someone –”
“I get it, love,” he cut me off quietly.
I sucked in breath. Then I said, “I can’t lose my job, Tor. And Lord only knows what else she might get up to and the longer I’m here, the more time she has to get up to it.”
“This is true, the gods only know what the other Cora would get up to,” he agreed and I didn’t know if it was actual agreement or him humoring me but I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know if was the latter (though I figured it was).
“This is important,” I told him, “and it’s kind of freaking me out.”
“Freaking you out?”
“Worrying me,” I explained.
He lifted his chin and ordered, “Look at me, Cora.” I did, twisting to look up at him to see his eyes tipped down to me. “You have no control over that. Let it go.”
“But –”
“Let it go.”
“I can’t!” I exclaimed.
“I can understand this but do you know how to get back there?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Do you know how you got here?” he went on.
“No,” I repeated.
“Then you have no control over it. If you go back,” he stated and my heart somersaulted at the same time it clenched, “you’ll be forced to deal with it then. Since you have no way of knowing what you’ll face, you have no
