I drifted awake, finding myself in a much more agreeable position despite the throbbing pulse in my skull. I lay on a blanket spread on the ground, my head propped up on a saddle. Bile surged up my throat, and I threw myself onto my side, retching all over the tack.
Someone gripped my shoulders as I panted, rolling me to puke on the green grass instead. I moaned as my stomach settled, but my headache thrummed as it did in the bell tower during the midday prayers.
“Water,” Sainte murmured.
I spit to the side and let his strong hands resettle me against the saddle—hopefully not in the puke. When the waterskin pressed to my lips, my eyes fluttered open. Sainte crouched beside me with Urien standing close behind, features drawn into a frown. Dusk’s golden sheen dimmed the daylight, and small tents littered the clearing.
I gulped the cool water, letting it wash the sting of bile from my mouth and throat. My brain was slow to register my surroundings as he pulled the waterskin away with a wince.
“I told you she’d come to,” Urien sighed, shaking his head.
I peered at him through heavy eyelids. It was hard work to wake up only to eject the contents of one’s stomach.
Sainte grunted and stood, keeping his injured arm tucked against his chest, stiff and unmoving. Urien glanced at him before some silent order sent him off to the others huddled together eating a cold meal.
“Grimm will take you to relieve yourself,” Sainte said.
I groaned and closed my eyes. Would the torture never end?
“You’ve been out for three days, Elspeth.”
I squinted at the back of his armor. Was that guilt I heard? With a sigh, he left me, joining the others. He settled on a log, speaking to his men in hushed tones.
Every part of me ached—arms, neck, legs, even my toes were sore. Stiffness and fatigue enveloped me. My wrists were raw, pinned behind me with tight ropes. A throbbing headache accompanied my growling stomach. Gods, I was hungry, but the mere thought of food reignited the nausea in my gut.
And I had to piss.
Three days was a long time to go without relieving oneself.
Grimm stomped over and picked me up as if I was nothing more than a babe. I sighed in resignation, refusing to take my anger out on this man. He chose to follow Sainte’s lead, driven by a desire to see his country thrive. I couldn’t fault him for that.
“Do you often steal women out of their beds?” I rasped as he carried me away from the small camp.
He chuckled, the deep tenor rumbling through his chest. “This’d be a first, I’d say.”
“It’s not a great habit,” I muttered.
He set me down, out of the camp’s view. “I shan’t make it a common occurrence then.”
His teeth gleamed with a bright smile, and I huffed, stumbling a step away. He spoke with an odd cadence, as if High Wynter was not his first language. Perhaps he was not from the palace. The nobles in Tilamuik communicated differently than the Common Muik in Meeds. Still, I understood him enough to make sense of his words.
“Need help?”
“Gods, no,” I shot back, prompting an amused smirk.
I turned, waving my fingers, hoping he would be so kind as to remove the rope. He obliged, untying it rather than cutting it. A sigh of relief escaped me as the cool air brushed against the open wounds on my wrists. I shook themout, and the motion shifted my balance. With palms pressed to a nearby tree, I steadied myself to avoid collapsing. After a moment, I braved a few steps, tripping on a twig.
“Don’t go far, not so many friendlies in these parts,” Grimm warned.
I waved over my shoulder in acknowledgement.
Once I managed a safe distance, I took care of my needs, then settled against a tree, glad to not have ended up in my piss this time.
Had I truly been out for three days? Headed north, I assumed. Depending on our route, we might be near Landing’s End. That road was populated with travelers. Surely there would be plenty of inns to rest in along the way instead of setting up camp.
I wasn’t stupid. I was well aware I couldn’t manage the trek back on foot. Even if I slipped off into the dark, Sainte had horses and a handful of soldiers. I was one woman—one tired, hungry woman that wouldn’t make it far.
If we were a three days ride in, that meant at least six of walking, if not closer to nine. I couldn’t set traps or scavenge for food in the wild—I was a city girl. I’d have to rely on relieving travelers of their goods to survive.
