He shook his head.
“But that means they knew exactly where to look,” Rory said. He didn’t bother with the fake accent this time.
“Not exactly, thank Aer,” I said. “We didn’t tell Rymark that much.”
“It still means someone within earshot of the king is a spy,” Bolt said. “Rory was right.”
I nodded. I had no way of warning Rymark short of getting to him. “I don’t understand how Cesla is doing this.”
“Doing what?” Rory asked. “Aren’t these people acting the same as the ones at Bas-solas?”
“That’s his point,” Bolt said. “Laewan was able to control the people with vaults because he was in Bunard—near them. If Cesla were anywhere near here, he could have killed us himself.”
Rory nodded, but Bolt had missed an important detail. “There’s more,” I said.
Bolt snorted. “There usually is. What?”
“A man with a vault acts normal during the daytime,” I said. “Something about their behavior is off.” I looked down at the dead soldier near my feet. “I wish I’d had the chance to delve him.”
“Let’s go, Rory,” Bolt said. “We’ll have to hunt down the rest on foot. They’ve scattered into the forest by now.”
I backtracked to our camp. Everyone was ready to travel, but the mood had turned sour, and Queen Erendella’s men wore the grim expressions of soldiers who didn’t hold much confidence in returning home alive.
Gael came toward me. “How bad is it?”
“I don’t know yet, but we saw the men and women who were searching for us last night. They separated and lined the road—waiting for us to show ourselves, I think. I’ll know more as soon as Bolt and Rory catch another one.”
The morning sun caught the wealth of her hair and skin, and I smiled. Few men could boast that their betrothed looked as beautiful outdoors as well as in. Then, because we had a few moments, and because I wanted Gael to know how I felt, I peeled the gloves off my hands. “I’m going to show you something,” I said.
I took her hands in mine and escaped into her thoughts. She appeared in front of me, younger, as everyone did, but in the full flower of womanhood. “I can see you,” she said.
I nodded, keeping myself from the river of her memories. “That’s because you knew I was coming. This gives us a measure of privacy.”
She laughed, a seductive, deep-throated sound that set fire to my skin. “You know I’ve never been shy about my affections for you, Willet.”
That much was certainly true. “But time flows differently here. An extended conversation in the delve takes but a heartbeat or two in the real world.”
She tucked her chin to her chest and looked at me through her dark lashes. “And what would you say here that cannot be said there?”
I kissed her.
“I’ve always enjoyed the fact that you’re a man of few words.” She laughed. “But you could have kissed me there as well.”
I smiled and swam in the glorious blue of her eyes. “I wanted to tell you that I regret not taking you as my wife when you suggested it. I thought I needed to concentrate on this task, but that was my pride speaking, thinking that I had to be the one to defeat Cesla and the Darkwater. The truth is it’s not up to me. It’s up to Aer—however, and if, He intends to do it.”
She sighed. “Think of all the opportunities we missed. The beds in Cynestol were very comfortable.”
I kissed her again. “I can’t rewrite the past,” I said, “but I’m yours whenever you wish.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“This,” I said. Like any man, I’d imagined what union with my betrothed would be like. There, in the privacy of the delve, I let those imaginings flow through the bond, images of sight and touch and all the senses, the future hope that had given me strength.
I blinked and found myself in the midst of our camp. Gael had broken the delve and stepped away, staring at me with her eyes wide and a flush on her cheeks. She exhaled quickly, almost a pant. I couldn’t tell whether she was angry or pleased, but I knew I’d crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. My betrothed knew exactly what, and how, I thought of her.
“Lord Dura,” Gael said, “you are the biggest fraud on earth.”
“I . . . um . . . how so?”
Her brows lowered and a dangerous tint came into her eyes. “For months you’ve bantered with me, pretending embarrassment at my flirtations.” Her hands balled into fists, and she shot a pointed glance at my head. “Is this how you’ve pictured me in your thoughts?”
I’d never been able to lie to Gael, but I was tempted to try anyway. “Yes,” I said, “many times.”
She closed the distance between us so quickly that I didn’t have time to defend myself, her fists coming for my head. I tried to brace for the blow, but at the last second, her hands opened and she cupped the sides of my face and kissed me, laughing. “Oh, Willet, do you think to shock me?” She shook her head at me. “We’re betrothed. If you’ve never seen how I’ve imagined you, it’s because you never looked deeply enough.”
She stepped back and looked around the camp. “It’s time to go.” Looking at me, she laughed. “It’s customary during wedding vows for the bride and groom to hold hands during haeling. That should prove interesting. I do hope you’ll be able to make it through the ceremony without spilling anything.”
I didn’t respond. I was too busy wondering what imaginings lay in Gael’s thoughts that
