Chapter Thirteen
Christian untied the bag from the saddle. Searching through it wouldn’t take long. With the guard waiting, he had to come up quickly with an escape plan. He still had his sword…
His mind returned to Willow, and concern clenched his gut. What was Simon doing to her? He mentally shook his head. He had to focus on freedom. If he could escape from the guard, he could continue after Marcus and get the real book back. What about Willow? He tightened his lips. She shouldn’t be involved. It wasn’t his fault she had stolen the book from him.
Christian’s hand closed over the red book. Why not give Simon this book? Then both he and Willow could leave. Brother Nicolas had gifted this book to Willow for some reason, a reason they hadn’t figured out yet. And the thought of handing his brother what he wanted made Christian defiant.
If he escaped, Simon would have no further use of Willow and he would free her. He closed his eyes. The fact Willow was even involved annoyed him.
“Let’s go,” the guard called.
Christian didn’t look up. He could lead Simon away from Willow by escaping. Or would his brother keep her prisoner? Simon knew nothing about his relationship with Willow. It was all causing his head to ache.
“Move,” the guard ordered.
Stressed and angered, Christian spun, tossing the bag at the guard.
Surprised, the guard put up his arm to block it.
Christian stepped close and delivered a solid punch to the guard’s chin.
The guard stumbled back. His hand dropped to the pommel of his sword.
Christian grabbed the guard’s sword arm so he couldn’t draw his weapon and hit his face again. He heard a crunching, and blood flowed from the guard’s nose. Because of the guard’s chainmail armor, it would do no good to hit him in the stomach. Christian swung his arm again.
The guard tried to deflect the blows with his swordless arm, but Christian was persistent, swinging over and over.
The guard sagged, but Christian held his arm and yanked him in for more blows.
Finally, the guard fell to his knees, and Christian wound up to deliver one final strike, sending the man to his ground.
Christian stood over him, breathing hard. His fist was clenched tightly, ready for more. “That’s what I think about this book.” He straightened and shook his hand. He took a deep breath to calm himself and scanned the stable. He spotted a rope on the wall and took it to tie the guard to a post.
When he had finished, he stood and stared toward the inn and Willow. She was the one who had spotted Sage’s trail, the white parchment pieces. She had been a help to him, but he would have to track Marcus without her.
He was done with this. He would find the book and… He paused. And then what? Brother Nicolas was dead. There was no one to deliver it to. No one to trust.
It didn’t matter. As long as Marcus didn’t have it…as long as the king didn’t have it. That was all that mattered.
He put his foot into the stirrup to hoist himself into the saddle…
And froze.
Yes. Yes, it was her fault Marcus had the book now. If she had not stolen it, Marcus never would have gotten it, and Sage would be safe. Still, he felt some strange, agonizing loyalty to Willow. Maybe it was their heated kiss. Maybe it was spending time with her. Whatever it was, he couldn’t leave her with his brother, the arrogant leech.
Suddenly, the door opened, and Willow stepped inside.
“Willow,” Christian exclaimed, placing his foot on the ground.
She stared at him with wide eyes. Her gaze moved over the horse and then pinned him with accusation.
He stepped toward her. “How did you get away?”
She lifted her chin. “I do know how to use a sword. I can be quite persuasive when I want to.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No,” Willow replied indignantly. “I tied him up.” She inspected the stable. “Where’s the guard?”
