They left the castle, and she dared not tell him that she was hungry and in need of relieving herself, nor ask him what had transpired, not even as they mounted the great beast. She barely dared to look at his face, lest she read something in his eyes that foretold of the future she could not imagine: without him.
It was growing dark, and she shivered in the cold, leaning back against his strong chest, the heat of his body and the firm strength of him burning through her clothing, through her skin, igniting her heart and the center of her.
He wrapped a fur around her and pulled her close.
“Leola,” he said, at last, his breath warm on her ear. She closed her eyes. “You have fallen strangely silent.”
“I dare not ask,” she whispered, her heart feeling as though it was being crushed beneath a great weight. She barely managed to take in the air needed to make this statement.
She felt the movement of his lips, the smile that was forming against her neck and earlobe, before he laughed quietly. Relief began to pour into her veins. She tried to turn to see him, but he pulled her close to his chest and urged the great beast into a trot.
“We must reach a place I know, good for resting in the darkness, before the sun falls, my Leola.”
Leola gripped his arm. “Master,” she said.
“Sedrak,” he corrected. “Master is for a different time.”
“I must stop,” she said loudly. Sedrak brought the great beast to a halt. “What is wrong, my love?” he asked with urgency, as she wriggled off the horse.
Leola ran into the trees without answering.
“Leola!” he cried, and she heard his great weight dropping to the ground.
She ducked behind a tree and hiked up her skirt, crouching to relieve herself. Trees and branches snapped as Sedrak, after tying the great horse to a tree, moved through the undergrowth.
When he saw her he laughed. She looked up at him, a blush on her cheeks. “I had to relieve myself,” she explained uselessly.
Sedrak leaned against a tree and wiped a tear from his eye as he laughed heartily.
She stood up and adjusted her skirts. “You needn’t laugh,” she said, indignant. “I was left there for hours.”
Sedrak pulled her to him and held her close. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and they were warm and dry. His touch traveled through her body, sending shivers everywhere. “I thought you were trying to escape me again, my Leola,” he said. “But you shall not leave me again.”
She looked up at him. “Do you mean…?” she asked. It was too great to be true, and her heart soared, even as her stomach turned with a nervousness, a feeling that her fortune could not have shifted so greatly in just a day.
“Grudin is a reasonable man, and I made him see sense.” Sedrak smiled. “In truth, my love, he saw that you possess the… how did he say it?… stiff spine needed, to bend men to your will.”
Leola shook her head in disbelief. “I?” she said in wonderment.
Sedrak smiled and kissed her lips. “I believe you underestimate your courage and your wit, Leola Grace. I, myself, do not. Nor your charms. But,” he turned her and pushed her gently toward the enormous and impatient horse, “we have many miles to travel before we reach a suitable camp, and then we shall rest only while it is dark, and continue as quickly as the wind and my beast allow, so that we may follow on the heels of the messenger sent to my army.”
He helped her onto the horse, and sat behind her, one strong arm around her. “You may sleep if you wish,” he said.
“Why must we go to your army?” she asked, because she knew, she knew it was good news, but she wanted to hear it, and feel it, and know that it was true.
“Patience, my pet,” he said with a laugh. This ‘pet’ was an endearing term, not the same as he had used the word before. “I have broken many rules, and oaths, and codes of conduct these days and weeks past. I have vowed to Grudin to do all things with honor and propriety from now on.”
“What does that mean?” Leola wondered aloud.
He spoke softly in her ear. “You shall see, Leola Grace.”
The sky was inky blue when they stopped by a small river, and the great beast drank for ages while Sedrak set up a very small shelter and a fire. Leola’s stomach rumbled.
“You did not eat,” Sedrak told her plainly. She shook her head.
He grumbled, and retrieved some dried meat from a pouch. “My love, I have been neglectful,” he said, dipping the meat in a cask of water. He looked at her over the piece of dried game as he held it out to her. “I promise, I shall never be neglectful again.”
She took the meat, her heart beating wildly. She wanted desperately to ask him if it was true, that he had convinced Grudin to allow them to marry. She wanted desperately to hear the words, and yet she dared not compel him.
“Tonight, my love, we sleep, no more. We must ride all day to reach our army before nightfall.”
She looked at him, and wondered if he felt inside as she did: did he want to claim her as much as she wanted him to?
“Do not look at me so, Leola,” he said softly. “You tempt me, and I have sworn to my uncle to behave properly.”
“Properly?” she said, teasing him slightly.
Sedrak grunted and turned to retrieve the horse from the river.
That night he held her close beneath the furs, under the makeshift shelter that was no more than a large leather fur tossed over a cord between trees. The night was terrifyingly dark; only the glowing embers of the fire could be seen in the darkness. She would have been scared, except
