Without a word, Sainte packed the items away, then knelt near the chestnut, knitting his fingers. No time to dwell on the fact that I’d never ridden a horse by myself.
It couldn’t be too hard, could it?
I cleared my throat, stepped into his hands, and pulled myself into the saddle. As the mare shifted beneath me, I grabbed her red mane and reached down to Sainte, who stood holding the reins.
He arched a single brow. “I’m not that stupid.”
While I cursed under my breath, he mounted, and we rode to meet the others. Most avoided eye contact, behaving as I anticipated. It was as if I carried some dark curse, and they feared that by staring too long, I might cast it upon them with a mere flick of my fingers.
The group paused often, allowing me to wash and bury the bloody rags. Riding was uncomfortable, but it was a far cry from having to share horseback with Sainte. We maintained a steady pace despite the frequent breaks.
A few days and ripped tunics later, my bleeding stopped, and I was permitted to continue riding alone. Of course, I was ponied along, never allowed to have the reins.
Regret burdened me as time passed. Did Lyana and Ethyan miss me? Were they convinced I’d seize any chance to return? My heart ached for them, but unlike the people of Landing’s End, Sainte extended a rare courtesy. He took care of me, treating me as his equal.
He was such a polite abductor.
The next city we rode into was small compared to those along the coast. The dirt-packed streets housed a few shops, homes, and a well-established inn with a large tavern and clean stable. A rickety sign on the post near the entrance read, ‘Wandering Wolf.’ A fitting name consideringthe nightly howls.
We enjoyed our first warm meal in weeks, and I devoured it. With Urien seated on my left, and Sainte on my right, my eyes scanned every exit and hiding place, even as guilt ate me inside out. The plan was to wait until nightfall, sneak out to my horse, then push south. There were busier roads than the one we traveled, allowing more opportunity to profit off passing travelers.
“There’s nothing like hot food to warm the bones after a long journey!” Grimm bellowed with a bright smile as he patted his belly.
Urien laughed, then smirked at my plate. “Better than most fare you ate, I’d wager.”
“Aye, though I always had fresh fruit,” I said, poking at the dried apples in my pork pie.
“Stolen, no doubt.”
“But just as sweet.”
He rested his elbows on the table, clasping his fingers below his chin. “Stolen goods leave a sour taste.”
“Perhaps in the vendor’s mouth,” I shrugged, “but not in mine.”
Once I finished my meal, I stretched my hands overhead, forcing out a yawn, then stood. “Well, I should probably head to bed.”
Sainte watched me out of the corner of his eye, nudging his empty bowl away. “Watch Grimm,” he said to Urien as he pushed to his feet.
The man in question had migrated to a game table where he slowly edged his great frame onto a bench. The others in our troupe gathered around as he palmed a hand of cards.
“Might win some coin tonight,” Urien mused.
“Don’t let him make a scene.”
I gave Sainte a sidelong glance. Surely he would let me have my own room. He respected my privacy thus far. I just needed one more night, one more lapse in his judgment.
With an outstretched arm, he herded me between the crowded tables to the small staircase tucked between the dining hall and bustling kitchen. As he led the way, ascending the stairs, I tried my hardest not to watch his strong legs move beneath his trousers as a sense of disappointment nipped at my resolve.
No.
I would not feel bad about leaving him.
He drugged me,kidnappedme. If I thought too long about it, I could still taste that vile potion on my lips. And, to top it off, he nearly killed me by tossing me into the river. Not to mention he threw awaymyshirt.
I glanced down at his tunic that I wore.
Curse it all, he’d stick in my memory for weeks unless I ditched it for another.
