“Yer headed in the wrong direction, my lady.”
She jerked her reins again, turning her horse to follow when he mounted and urged his horse forward. But she refused to make eye contact.
Damn it all. A perfect exit ruined by her crappy sense of direction.
Twelve
THE ELF SPOKEthe truth.
The thought wound and circled its way through Malcolm’s mind, over and over again, slithering like a snake across exposed rock in a field of heather.
He glanced over his shoulder to where Dani rode, her cheeks a mottled red, her eyes much too shiny, as if one wrong word from him would be all it would take to send her into a fit of blubbering. He’d seen just such a look on his younger sister’s face when she’d taken all the teasing she could bear from her brothers. He knew all too well what came next. Tears.
The Elf spoke the truth.
No tracks marred the soft ground inside the ancient stone circle save for those he and Patrick had left. Not even a single animal had strayed into the area, let alone another human.
However Dani had gotten there to begin with, her visible frustration made it clear she had no idea how to return to where she’d come from. As clear was the fact that neither she nor anyone else had walked into the center of that circle from the outer ring. It was as if she had been dropped into the circle from the sky above.
Though nothing explained the tracks outside the circle. Tracks as if someone had waited there. Waited and watched.
The Elf spoke the truth.
About everything, it would appear.
He should have known that from the beginning. The old legends taught that the Magical Folk didn’t lie. They might not tell a man the whole of the truth, but what they did say was spoken in accuracy. Even if what they disclosed was shared for their own nefarious purposes.
That would likely be a more profitable use of his time, trying to figure out Elesyria’s purpose in telling him as much as she had.
“Do we have any water?”
At least he thought that was what Dani had called out, her words garbled as she tugged the plaid up over her mouth for warmth.
He pulled up on his reins, waiting until she drew her mount close to his.
She peered out of the hood of woolen and fur wrapped around her, her face drawn with exhaustion and discomfort.
Little wonder. Immersed in his own concerns, he’d lost all track of how long they’d traveled. Lost all track of his companion. Snow, which had fallen steadily since they had left the circle, clung to her garments like a second cloak.
“You wanted water?” he asked, making sure he’d heard her correctly.
“Really thirsty.” Her lips quivered as she spoke, another reason why he’d had difficulty understanding her earlier.
He dug in his pack for the wineskin he carried and offered it to her, mentally amending his earlier assessment of her condition to include cold.
One sip and her face scrunched into a mask of displeasure.
“What is that? Beer? Seriously?” she asked, handing the container back to him.
“Honey ale,” he corrected, and took a drink for himself before returning the container to his pack. “Ale is what we have with us to drink.”
“No.” Finality layered through the word. “Look, I’m tired and I’m hungry and I’m cold. I’ve sucked it up all day and followed along, agreeing to whatever you decided without unreasonable complaint. But this is where I draw the line. I’ve spent the whole day on horseback and I want some damn water to drink. Is that too much to ask?”
Guilt prickled uneasily under Malcolm’s emotional armor. It was as she said. She hadn’t really complained. And he, like some half-addled excuse for a man, hadn’t once thought of her comfort or needs. Hadn’t once considered how much of the day’s light he’d squandered in the stone circle, forcing her to try again and again to send herself home.
As a result, it was approaching nightfall they faced now, along with hunger and cold.
More proof, if he’d needed it, that he was unfit to see to any woman’s safety and well-being.
