Hefertus sleeps in the tent with her. I wish I could resent him for it. I am, instead, merely horrifically jealous. Would that I dared sleep a foot from her. Would that I dared drown in her scent and allow myself secret glimpses of her drowsy form. I dare not. I am overwhelmed just by this much proximity. I will not force her hand. I will not pressure her with emotional displays. That is not the path of honor. If I slipped even once, all my gates would fall open and I would be as overwhelmed as a city when a siege breaks.
I do not sleep. I do not dream. I spend all the night with my thoughts racing round and round. My arms feel so terribly empty.
At the first hamlet we encounter, Hefertus spends money like water, gathering food and supplies.
It is here that my heart is broken for a new reason, for as we walk through the hamlet, a child runs out and into the side of a barrel. His arm goes backward and breaks with a snap. I’m on my knees in the dust in a second, praying over him, gently helping to set the bone and bind it, but though I can administer kindness and help as anyone with knowledge can do, my prayers for his healing go unanswered. No power flows through me. No miraculous healing saves him the pain of the break.
I know why this is. It’s a result I expected. And yet it is a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that by choosing one path, I have lost another. By choosing one good, I have prevented another. I leave the child to his parents with a troubled heart and a twisting belly. He lingers long in my thoughts as I mull on the choice I have made.
At the first good-sized town, Hefertus buys the Vagabond and me both serviceable new swords and what little armor is available. It is not the kit of paladins, but it is as close as one can get in the wild.
We spend an awkward night in a crowded inn with one room and one bed. Word has reached the world that the north is opening and gold prospectors, historians, and hunters set out by the dozens. They are only the vanguard. More and more will pour up into the new space as the days go by. It’s a strange thing to see the gleam of opportunity in their eyes as they race to a place I can’t abandon quickly enough.
Hefertus takes the bed and that leaves the floor for us. I can barely manage to look my lady paladin squarely in the eye. Even the smallest glimpse of her seizes my heart and squeezes the breath from my lungs. It’s too much. It’s all too much. I sleep with my back to her and for the first time in years, my thin blanket feels very lonely.
The next morning, outside the town in a wooded glen, Hefertus leaves us. He has letters penned by both of us for our aspects and he wears an irritable frown.
“I’m leaving you both. If you’re traveling down the same road as me, give me at least an hour’s head start.”
The Vagabond Paladin looks confused. “I don’t understand,” she says miserably. “You don’t want to travel with us?”
Hefertus growls. “Girl. Knight. Whatever you are. If I must ride one more day with the pair of you and your angsty silences and longing, desperate glances whenever you think the other is not looking, I will chew through the ends of my own hair and eat my own boots. The tension is turning me inside out and I am not even part of this tangled star-crossed love.” He makes a sound that is like an unspoken curse. “I want a pair of warm arms and a willing kiss, or … failing that … an empty room of my own where I can clear my head. You’ve ruined me. Both of you. So yes, I would travel alone. Very alone. As alone as a man can be. If you have any sense of gratitude for the fire, and the tent, and the horses that awaited you when you swam to safety, you will give me that, at least.”
There’s a long silence as he catches his breath. I do not look at the Vagabond. My cheeks are hot with the knowledge that now everyone here knows the hidden cockles of my heart.
I clap Hefertus roughly on the shoulder. Maybe too roughly. He grunts.
“Thank you for all you’ve done, brother, and godspeed.”
He grunts again.
“Thank you, Sir Hefertus,” my lady paladin says stiffly.
He laughs, a dark, dry laugh. “I swear to the God,” is all he says, and then he kicks his horse and leaves us in his dust.
I look up at Victoriana and see her huge brown eyes looking at me. Her jaw is clenched with determination. She shatters me with a look.
“I suppose you’re leaving now, too.” Her tone is grim.
Beside her, her dog laughs at me.
I shift awkwardly in the saddle. “I gave my vow to stay with you.”
She looks upset. I cannot fathom why. I have exercised every possible caution to protect her heart.
Without a word, she kicks her horse and leads us back toward the town and then down a side road that wends far into the woods. I follow her grimly all through the afternoon, though she never looks back once.
We reach a small creek as the light is fading. She begins to set a fire without speaking. I remove the horses’ tack and bring them to water. When they’re taken care of, I join her at the fire. Her dog is already there, spread out beside the flames to catch their warmth. He pants happily, wet from his drink at the creek. I swear he is still mocking me.
Victoriana stands abruptly, that enchanting black hair falling into her eyes. She hasn’t braided it once since we left the sea, as though she thinks it might offer the protection her mismatched armor cannot. Like me, what armor she has is packed away. She wears only the sword buckled to her hip and her light travel clothing — purchased for her by Hefertus just as mine was. He claimed to be so rich as to hardly care where the money went, but I know full well he is generous to a fault.
“Enough of this.” She crosses her arms over her chest and her gaze snags on mine before she rips it away, and in that flicker of a moment, I see nothing but anguish.
What has happened?
I take an involuntary step forward, but the fire is between us, dancing and smoking wildly as if it is alive.
“Victoriana?” My voice sounds uncertain.
