“No,” I repeated. “We will not be splitting up. Devyn has got us this far and we are not leaving him behind. “
Gideon narrowed his eyes. “Fine, you stick with the Griffin. It’s him that’s wanted anyway.” He nodded in the direction of Marcus’s sleeping form.
Marcus, despite his claims that he wouldn’t be able to help Devyn with his magic, had overextended himself again, if his renewed exhaustion was anything to go by. Marcus did not trust our new travelling companions in the slightest, but he had barely made it off his horse before falling asleep.
“You’re not splitting us up,” I repeated once more, in the hope that this time the smirking hulk might finally comprehend what I was saying.
The smirk widened into a full-blown grin before he turned back to Bronwyn, continuing to outline his plans as though I hadn’t interrupted.
“I don’t think I’m making myself clear,” I said quietly. “Marcus and I actually cannot be separated. It’s not a matter of choice.”
They turned to look at me once more. Gideon frowned.
“We’re handfasted,” I rushed on, before I lost their attention again. I pulled up my sleeve to show them the distinctive armband. “Marcus and I won’t survive being more than a few miles away from each other for an extended period.”
“Fine. Then I’ll take you too, city girl.”
Gideon leaned back, satisfied at the return to his original solution.
“I’m not leaving without Devyn.”
“Nobody is splitting the group up,” Bronwyn stated, flashing me a warning glance and a quick shake of her head. There it was again, that flash of a hint that my being with Devyn was not okay and that I would do better to hide our… whatever it was.
“The Anglians want Marcus Courtenay. The Mercians want the Griffin. It makes sense to split up. You want me to throw the Griffin over the back of a horse and drag his arse north, with York chasing us, we can do that.” Gideon paused for emphasis. “It’ll probably kill him, but maybe that would be a kindness compared to what awaits him.”
“What? What do you mean, what awaits him?”
“Shut up, Gideon,” Bronwyn said. “Of course it won’t kill him. He has a wound to the shoulder; despite your best efforts, it was far from fatal.”
Gideon snorted.
“If that were my best shot, the Griffin would be dead. Besides, I wasn’t really even in the queue; it would hardly have been right to have robbed so many others of the pleasure.”
Bronwyn stilled, her eyes icing over as she surveyed the languid length of the warrior laid out on the other side of the campfire.
“You knew it was my cousin when you threw that blade?”
Scar snorted again, pulling his cloak around him as he settled back to sleep for the night. I absorbed this new snippet of information. I had been jealous of Bronwyn from the first time I had seen her with Devyn. Admittedly, she’d had her hands all over him, which would be hard for anyone to take, even if Devyn and I hadn’t exactly been talking at the time. Cousins.
“Gideon.” Bronwyn was coldly furious.
“Perhaps.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
There was no answer from the other side of the fire.
Bronwyn threw her cup and a grunt indicated she had found her target. It wasn’t enough for me. My grip tightened on the knife in my hand. Right now, I could quite cheerfully plunge it into the intricately tattooed neck.
“Sheathe your claws.” His soft lilting drawl indicated he somehow knew my intentions. “If you’re going to go for blood every time somebody touches your boy, you’re going to be a busy girl.”
“He’s not my boy,” I corrected.
“Good.” He rolled over, away from the fire. “A city latent and the damned Oathbreaker, what a mess that would have been.”
“What does that mean?”
There was no answer. It seemed Gideon was done talking. Arrogant ass. I looked to Bronwyn for an explanation, surprised to see the sad look on her face as she glanced over to where Devyn lay.
“What does he mean?” I demanded. I couldn’t let it go. Why could Devyn and I not be together? And what awaited him when we arrived? I knew he was not loved – I had seen that much – but Gideon implied much worse lay ahead.
Bronwyn cast me a quelling look and shook her head. But I couldn’t leave it. Since we had crossed the borderlands, Devyn had pulled away from me and Bronwyn knew why.
“Bronwyn.”
The pale Celtic girl glared at me now, tight-lipped. “Just go to sleep, Cassandra.”
“What my lady doesn’t want to tell you, city girl, is that your guide may have a very short future, and what does remain certainly doesn’t involve playing happily-ever-after,” Gideon finally spoke again.
“Gideon.” Bronwyn’s voice cracked, whip-like, across the dying embers.
“Well, he did break his oath. You think the welcoming committee is breaking out the party food? Sharpening the knives, more like. The Griffin used up his second chance. He was a child last time. He’ll be lucky if they consider his carcass worthy of throwing to the dogs when they’re done with him.”
Chapter Eleven
As we rode on the next morning, I mulled over what I had learned the night before. We made better time on horseback and my feet were grateful, even if I despised the man who sat behind me. The three of us had been on foot and the group did not have extra horses to carry the recent additions to their party. Marcus rode with the smallest of Bronwyn’s men, while Devyn shared with his cousin. So far, so much sense. Why I had been lumbered with the most offensive warrior in the group was beyond fathoming, but he had insisted. Neither Devyn nor Marcus had seemed too happy with the idea either.
When Bronwyn and I had gone down to the brook to wash up before we broke camp, she had taken the opportunity to speak privately to me.
“Cass, you must be
