"That wasn't what I said," she said. "I asked if you thought they were coming for me."
He shook his head. "I don't know, Morgan. But what I do know is the walls of Tor Neroche offer safety."
"Even to farmers?" she asked doubtfully.
"Even to farmers," he assured her. "But most assuredly to dutiful carriers of blades destined for kings."
She looked at him for a moment or two, then nodded. "I will see if I can win a place for all of us," she said. "You have been very valiant as well."
He smiled, but it was a pained one. If she only knew…
He nodded his thanks and turned his face forward. The castle was three days' hard ride ahead. Three days before they would know the truth of her gifts. Three days before he would have to tell her the truth about himself.
Three days before he would fulfill his duty.
Duty.
What a bloody awful word.
Chapter Twenty-two
Morgan rubbed her face with her free hand. It didn't aid over-much with the weariness, but it was one of the ways she'd learned to use to stay awake. What she wanted to do was sleep for a solid sen'night. She wanted it so desperately, she was tempted to simply lean over, put her head on Reannag's neck, and close her eyes. Would the horse continue to carry her, or would he allow her to fall off? It was indication enough of her state that she didn't care which it would be.
She sat up straighter and pulled the hood back off her head. The chill brought some semblance of clarity back to her mind. It was little wonder she was tired; no doubt the entire company was tired. They had ridden north almost without ceasing from the battle at the inn. The weather had worsened. The road had worsened. Even her mood had worsened, for the closer she got to the king's palace the more she wanted to bolt the other way.
The blade continued to sing from the bottom of her pack.
In fact, the song had begun to get in the way of her hearing the men around her.
That was just as well, for there had been much commentary on her choice of destinations from all corners.
"Halt," Adhémar said suddenly.
Morgan peered blearily into the distance and saw a company riding toward them. Outriders from Tor Neroche? She could scarce believe that she might have actually come this close to reaching her journey's end, but perhaps the impossible had actually become reality.
Adhémar swept them with a look. "I will go ahead and see if I can bargain for entrance. Remain here."
Morgan yawned hugely and gave into temptation. She leaned over, wrapped her arms around Reannag's neck, and closed her eves. It was so marvelous, so decadent, she feared she might never be able to straighten again. And bless the steed, he didn't complain. The only time she felt him move was when she realized she was truly falling asleep. Perhaps he sensed it too and wished to spare her an undignified tumble.
"Morgan."
She sat up suddenly, bleary-eyed. She rubbed her eyes and found that Miach was next to her. "Aye?"
"I thought you might fall off soon."
Morgan couldn't even manage a decent nod of agreement. She looked ahead of them and saw that Adhémar was still speaking with the outriders. She wasn't convinced he would win them entrance. Unfortunately, she could do nothing but wait behind, in the snow, shivering, and wonder if she had just given her chance to complete her quest into the hands of a fool. She should have gone ahead herself. But that would have meant yet more time in Adhémar's company and she simply couldn't bear the thought of that.
At least the journey with such terrible haste had rid her of Adhémar's constant harping on magic and its usefulness. She did not agree and she was tired of arguing with him. She had come to the point where she did her best to ignore him. That task was made much easier by the sounds of her blade singing.
She could scarce hear anything else.
Actually, that wasn't true. She suspected that the ring might have joined in with the blade.
If she hadn't made Nicholas a promise, she would have heaved her entire pack into the nearest patch of briars and been well rid of it.
"Well," she said finally, looking at Miach, "perhaps he will manage it."
"Aye," he said, his tone curiously flat.
