With a frustrated sigh, she turned back to the road.
The line seemed endless. So many king’s men armed from head to toe, guiding downtrodden Templar Knights with slumped shoulders. She bit her lip. She wanted to help the knights, but she knew there were too many soldiers.
One of the knights looked into the forest and seemed to lock gazes with her. His eyes were sunken, his face a cragged landscape of worry. It was almost as if he were waiting for rescue or help.
She groaned softly. These men needed them.
Christian’s grip tightened around her wrist, and he shook his head.
“We have to help them,” she whispered, looking at the imprisoned Templar Knights. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Raven and Landyn glance at her.
Raven’s lips were pressed into a thin, hard line of disapproval.
Willow bowed her head. Raven was right—she shouldn’t have spoken. She knew the risks. What if the soldiers took them as prisoners? Willow clenched her fists at the futility.
One of the king’s men reined his horse to a halt, staring toward them.
Willow frowned. She hadn’t spoken loud enough for them to hear, had she? Dread clawed through her.
The armed man dismounted. Some of the Templars looked in the direction he was gazing at as they continued their march.
Christian’s hand dropped to the pommel of his sword.
Willow stiffened. This was bad. How could they overpower the king’s man without other soldiers noticing?
A breeze rustled the trees, bending their branches. The soldier stepped into the forest. He paused to glance around at the bush. A bird cawed above him.
Willow didn’t move. She froze as the soldier took another step, his booted foot crunching a branch.
Why bother to hide? What difference did it make if he found her? The king’s men had arrested the Templar Knights. She wasn’t one of them. She wasn’t sure why she was hiding, but it was probably for Christian’s sake. He had been friends with the Grand Master.
Her father had worked for the Templars. Did that incriminate her? Or Raven? Or Sage?
The guard stepped into the forest until he was only a tree away from them. He paused.
Dread shivered up Willow’s back. Had he spotted them?
He lifted his tunic and lowered his leggings. He pulled out his manhood and relieved himself on the tree.
As relief swept through her like a breeze, Willow bit her upper lip so she wouldn’t giggle.
The long stream dribbled down the bark and puddled at the bottom. She grinned and glanced at Christian. He was not smiling. His focused gaze was pinned beyond the soldier on the road.
Willow turned back to the soldier as he tucked himself into his leggings and adjusted his tunic. He walked back toward the king’s men.
On the road, Willow noticed one of the Templar Knights, an older man with gray hair, had paused. His head was bowed, but it was turned, and his gaze was on the forest. He was looking directly at them. He shook his head slightly.
She froze. Did he know they were there? She glanced at Christian. His square jaw was set, his teeth clenched, and he stared hard at the man or perhaps the men on the road. She couldn’t be sure which. But either way, he was angry.
A soldier shoved the older Templar Knight, and he continued walking.
Willow waited, watching the long line of soldiers and Templar prisoners. The mixture of fright and uncertainty on the faces of the prisoners made it easy to believe they had been unprepared when the king arrested them. The soldiers appeared to be leading them to a place they did not want to go. A cloud of dust rose in their wake, obscuring them as if they were being swallowed by the fog.
It seemed as if the line went on forever. Soldiers on horses rode on the outside like bars in a jail cell, keeping their Templar prisoners on the inside.
After the soldiers and knights had moved down the road away from them, Raven swooped in for the tongue-lashing. “You almost gave us away,” she chastised Willow. “What were you thinking?”
Willow ignored her and glanced at Christian. “Did you know the Templar looking at us?”
