With slow hesitation, Athan pulled back again, his forehead pressed to hers and thumb caressing her cheek. “Dnara,” and the hesitation existed within his words, too, along with a pain she couldn’t decipher.
“What is it?” she asked, her heart trembling in fear at what could possibly keep pulling him away from her.
“There are things,” he began, only to stop again. “Things I feel for you... And things I must tell you... I don’t... You see, my brother... he... Dammit, I don’t know where to begin.”
His struggle seemed a heavy burden, and the discomfort that entered his voice at the mentioning of his brother dug into her chest. Whatever it was that held him within such conflict, she didn’t want him carrying it alone. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pressed her ear to his chest and listened to the rhythm of his heart. He hugged her back, setting his cheek to her crown and relaxing within her embrace.
After a few heartbeats, she spoke. “Keeper Ishkar once told me that the best place one can start a story is at the beginning.” Lifting her head, she tried to see his eyes in the darkness. “Perhaps you should begin there?”
“Perhaps I should,” he agreed, and she could make out the line of his smile as he looked down over her. “But that will make for a much longer story.”
She smiled in return. “I would like to hear it.”
After a deep breath, he regained his confidence. “I’ll tell you everything, I swear it, once you are safely out of Lee’s Mill.”
“That begins by both of you leaving,” Garrett’s voice broke into the darkness. “Unless you’d like to stay in this tunnel, with the rats and the damp and-”
“All right,” Athan huffed through a harassed chuckle. “Did you get Treven?”
“Yes, I got your mule.” Garrett lifted his own everbright lamp from beneath his brocaded cloak. Taking in the illuminated situation, his gaze moved from Athan to Dnara. “On second thought, perhaps you would like to stay here?”
Dnara flushed and stepped away as Athan let his cloaked arm drop. Meeting Garrett’s bright blue eyes, she saw the expression in them did not match the playful tone of his voice. It was an expression she couldn’t name, one of sadness mingled with affection, which only deepened when he looked back at Athan.
“Don’t you have a city to run?” Athan said back, his own face flushed.
“Oh,” Garrett nearly gasped, his expression falling back under the well-crafted mask he’d worn before. “Now I am running the city? Here, I thought I was only the mayor’s son.”
“For Faedra’s sake,” Athan muttered with an amused snort then gave Garrett a light shove. “Go on then, Lord Whitehall. Lead us to safety, if it pleases you.”
“It would please me greatly,” Garrett said, leading them through the doorway and into a small overgrown courtyard dotted with piles of stones from a poorly maintained grain tower that had seen better, more plentiful days.
“Quiet,” Beothen hissed from the courtyard’s center, two sets of reins in one hand, large broadsword in the other.
“Good to see you, too,” Athan whispered back but took on a serious tone as he crossed the courtyard past dry grass and barren rosebushes. “How bad is it?”
“Bad,” Beothen said as he handed over Treven’s reins. “Jenny’s backtracking the alley a bit to make sure Lord Whitehall here wasn’t followed.”
“I wasn’t,” Garrett scoffed, offended by the thought, but he too wore a serious expression. “It is getting bad, Athan. My father is refusing to let the King’s Guard search the town. Elder Rellius has granted Dnara sanctuary, stirring the faithful into closing ranks around the temple. The King’s Guard doesn’t care and is searching it anyway, along with everywhere else, tossing furniture and people out of their houses and ruining a festival I have worked very hard to make happen, because gods forbid we have a bit of enjoyment while the world goes to blight in a handbasket!”
“Shhh!” Beothen hushed.
“Calm yourself.” Athan set a hand on Garrett’s shoulder. “And take a deep breath.”
Garrett took in a deep breath of the night air and deflated into a semblance of his porcelain demeanor. “Sorry. Well, I have delivered the mule. Now what?”
Athan patted Treven’s neck and stared into the mule’s eyes for a long moment before speaking. “We’re heading for the Thorngrove.”
Treven took a step back and shook his large head.
“What?” Garrett said, barely managing to keep his voice down. “If you think a gods’ forsaken, haunted forest will deter the King’s Guard, then you are as much a fool as that mule. We have an estate near Northlake. My grandmother lives there, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the company.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Dnara said as she pressed a hand to Treven’s neck. “But I must go back to the forest. There are answers there I must find before I can move forward again.”
Treven’s dark glossy eyes stared at her, then his head lowered and the tension on his reins slackened.
“Back to the forest?” Garrett’s mouth opened, then shut, then he shook his head. “No. Never mind. It’s probably better I don’t know, at least until I can get those plate-armored ogres out of my town.” He crossed his arms and stood poised in the moonlight. “Fine. Go to the Thorngrove, disappoint my poor, elderly Nan.”
Beothen snorted, as he moved back to the gate. “Well, wherever you’re headed, you best get going before they reach this end of town. Stay north, along the mountains, and you should be safe.”
“Thanks.” Athan clasped Beothen’s forearm. “I owe you again.”
“Think not of it,” Beothen dismissed. “Look, there comes Jenny. ...I think. The woman moves like liquid
