Iwas up late reading Torgrin’s journal, spellbound by his words and this glimpse of his inner struggles.
I felt so many conflicting emotions.Torgrin’s demeanor was always stoic, rarely expressing anything other than anger.In the pages of his journal, I saw how raw and deep his true feelings were.I had felt sick reading about the abuse he had suffered at Merrick’s hands.The man’s name was now carved into my mind, along with his icy eyes.Was this why Torgrin always needed to be in control?Because it was taken from him as a boy by his depraved captain?
Shame and anger poured over me as I rubbed at my tired eyes.I could not get the words explaining why he had gone to Bethel out of my head.My heart broke, and fury surged to learn that this man had once again been forced to give over his body to someone wielding greater power.
There was so much I had not questioned.
Torgrin had been with me all this time.I had smelled him on the bedsheets for days before the servants had taken them away.Torgrin’s scent was on the clothes I wore, and sometimes, it would hit me when I opened a book.He surrounded me with his art, his scent and his words.
I sighed as I ran my hand over the journal’s cover.Maybe I hadn’t questioned it because it had felt familiar to me.
I rubbed my weary eyes.What did my attraction to Torgrin matter now?Cillian and I were lovers, and I could not give him up.
There were only a few hours until dawn, and I couldn’t fight sleep any longer.I slept, but my dreams were as fragmented and conflicted as my thoughts.
†
The heat of the sun had not touched the dry ground yet, and the chill in the air cooled my cheeks.In autumn, the southern parts of Eritz had some rainfall and cooler temperatures, but the further north we went, the colder it would become.
We had agreed not to use the Warwick carriage.The sigils on the sides would draw too much attention.Bethel would ride on horseback with us and sleep outdoors until we drew closer to Capita, where inns were more common.
I worked with Webber, saddling the horse Bethel was to ride on.Webber had chosen a gentle mare who wouldn’t trouble an inexperienced rider.
I looked up as Torgrin came to where we were working.My heart raced at the sight of him.His simple red soldier’s cape was gone.He had replaced it with a swathe of blue bearing the Warwick oak tree sigil.His black leathers looked new, and I pretended that I was unaffected by how good he looked wearing them.
Torgrin’s dark hair was damp from his morning bath.A few inky strands fell over one eye, brushing his scarred cheek as he leaned down to help me tighten a strap on Bethel’s mare.His clean-shaven face drew close to mine, and I closed my eyes briefly, inhaling his scent.Trees and rain.He looked up, his obsidian eyes questioning me, and I took a guilty step back.
Everyone started arriving.Cillian rode in on his horse, and I tried to greet him with a smile.
‘Don’t bother talking me out of going, Caris,’ he said as he dismounted his horse.
I greeted Bay instead, who nuzzled my hair, hoping for a treat.
I wouldn’t lie to Cillian; I still didn’t want him in Capita.‘You could just tell us how to open the cell,’ I said, giving it one last try.
‘You know it’s best if it’s someone who doesn’t work for Lord Warwick.I can do this.Have a little faith in me, will you?’His jaw tightened, two lines appearing between his golden-brown eyes.
He was still upset that I had brought up his lack of fighting skills at the meeting with Lord Warwick.I realised far too late this might just be why he was so determined to go.Nothing could be said to undo that, so I just nodded.I had no choice but to let it rest.
Tomas appeared, leading several soldiers who were to join our small entourage.Since being here at the fortress, I had learned how much Torgrin and Atlas trusted him.They had taken the young archer under their wing, preparing him to be a captain one day.His sandy hair and freckled face made him appear unthreatening, but he led the men with confidence, and I had seen firsthand how deadly his aim was.
Everyone helped load the pack horses with supplies.I ensured Torgrin’s journal and the drawings I adored were tucked safely into my packs on Nightmare’s back.I hid my father’s dagger in my boot and slid my swords through the straps tied across my back.My new leathers were the most comfortable I’d ever worn.
I had braided my hair tightly and wound it into a bun at the back of my head before leaving my room – well, Torgrin’s room.The style was practical, keeping the hair off my face and would prevent it from catching on stray branches as we travelled.
Our small group stood idly in the yard, waiting for Bethel to arrive.She finally appeared, escorted by Lord Warwick and Atlas.
She looked like a princess from one of Torgrin’s fables.Bethel’s woodland-green riding dress was perfectly cut, showing off her figure.Her glossy black hair fell down her back with a thin braid wrapped around her crown.I stood between Cillian and Torgrin and watched Atlas lift Bethel onto her horse.
While Lord Warwick said his goodbyes to his daughter, Atlas came over to say his.
He reached out his arms to drag Torgrin and me to him.Our similar heights made it easy for me to see a kaleidoscope of greens and browns in Atlas’s eyes and, in contrast, the specks of amber in Torgrin’s black irises.
‘Take care of each other,’ Atlas ordered us.
Something tugged at my heart as I took in Atlas’s solemn gaze.I nodded, as did Torgrin.Atlas gave us both one last squeeze, then I stepped back, looking at these two men who were more than friends.They were brothers of fate.
‘You hold down the fortress,’ Torgrin said, slapping Atlas hard on the shoulder, making him scowl.
