And quickly. There was no possibility that the full horde could move as quickly as the riders on their great beasts. There were too many, and they would not risk approaching already exhausted and weary.
Which meant there was time, although it might prove short.
Harlow did not appear overly pleased, but he nodded his head in acceptance. “Tomorrow,” he agreed, something in his voice suggesting that he would not allow her to rescind her promise later. “Rest well, then, and I will see you come morning.”
Penryn gave a low nod, and Harlow and the three others slipped past Rezen and disappeared out the door.
A sigh escaped her and she shared a look with Grimult. He gave a shrug at her enquiring glance, suggesting that he had no better answer to give Harlow than the one she had provided, and she shook her head. He was allowed to interject, to hold opinions of his own.
“Are you ready?” Rezen urged at the door, his hand holding tightly to the latch as if afraid that if he did not hold the door open and urge them onward, she might declare a change of mind and refuse to depart.
Was she? If she was honest with herself, it was a resounding no. There was too much to do yet, there was a role that she had to see completed before she allowed herself the honour of exploring the potential for one that she should have known first, and possibly best.
Daughter.
She bit her lip, and nodded anyway.
Another smile, this one softer as she approached, and again he looked at her lack of wings with pity, and she could not deny that she hated that look. She wanted the injustice acknowledged, but another part of her bristled. She was not lesser. Was not helpless, even if the sages had desired to make her so in many areas.
Grimult had taught her much, and her own curiosity had seen to more education than even the sages might have preferred, and just because she could not fly did not mean she was an invalid.
“I will carry you,” Rezen declared, opening his arms, his expression hopeful.
Something in her lurched, something strong and powerful, demanding that the resounding no escape, regardless of how it might hurt him.
But Grimult was faster still, his hand at her shoulder, perhaps to some, laying claim. But to her, it was the promise of safety.
He was exhausted, and nourishing stew and warm clothes could only provide so much, but he had been steady ever since, and she did not doubt him.
Rezen appeared visibly disappointed, his mouth opening perhaps to argue, but he shut it again with a sigh of resignation.
“You will follow?” he asked anxiously.
“Yes,” Penryn assured him.
To the home of her birth.
And a tiny part of her, long buried and denied, felt a thrill at the prospect.
Twelve
Rezen did not allow them out of his sight. It made their communications all the more hushed, all the more covert, Grimult’s touches restricted to only what was necessary as he gripped her tightly and followed Rezen further down the cliff-face. In another world, the beauty of it might have been thrilling, and she supposed if she could pry her eyes away from Grimult’s face long enough to appreciate it, so it might have proved. But instead she found herself studying her husband, determined to catch any signs of distress or tiredness that would insist they land rather than risk another plummet to the depths below.
“I can feel your stares, wife,” Grimult complained at last. Rezen had already landed, standing anxiously as he awaited them. This too had a wooden blockade built, sheltering the dwelling from either unwanted visitors or from the harsh elements beating against the rocks. It was too high for the sea spray to reach, but she could well suppose the wind and rain would be enough to warrant such construction, regardless of the desire for privacy from one’s neighbours.
She did not think she would like just anyone being able to trespass on her time with Grimult, even if custom made such allowances.
“Perhaps I like to look at you, husband,” Penryn answered back, tilting her chin so her words were solely for him, not carrying in the wind about them.
His hands gave her a slightly tighter squeeze, and she would have liked to have sealed the truth of her words with a kiss, regardless of the ulterior motive that she would not be sharing with him.
He might think her foolish for her worry, would remind her plainly that he was charged most especially with their safety so she could leave such concerns in his care alone, but it was her right to fret over him. To ensure that he had enough to eat, that enough sleep had taken him during the night, that he was not overly chilled when the winds grew bitter.
She was grateful that the rains had stopped for the moment, although the clouds overhead were a thick, impenetrable grey that promised more of the same throughout the night. Dusk would be coming soon, if it was not there already, the world beginning to darken further.
It was time to be sealed away, warm and comfortable.
But instead her heart was beating rapidly as they landed beside Rezen, her uncertainty making her palms prickle with the urge to fidget.
Rezen was no better, swaying his weight from foot to foot, his attention drifting first from her then to the door behind him. “I should speak to her first,” he hastened to explain, and Penryn wondered why he had not done so while he waited for them to follow, their speed slowed by Grimult’s exhaustion as well as the burden of her additional weight, she was certain.
“Yes,” Grimult agreed. “We will remain here.”
Rezen glanced at him, a frown briefly coming over his features. His doubt was obvious, and Penryn felt a brief moment of affront
