Sage called after her. “Get it, Willow!”
Willow watched anxiously as the parchment twirled through the air, carried by an insistent gust of wind. With a quick motion, she lunged and grabbed at the slip of parchment, but it was whipped away just as her fingertips touched it. It spun, landing on the road. Before she could grasp for it again, a boot came down hard on the parchment, pinning it to the ground.
She looked up at the owner of the boot as her fingers grasped the edge of the paper. The tall man hovered above her, his shiny bald head reflecting the sunlight, and a twisted grin curled one side of his lips in a stubbled jaw.
“Thank you,” she said and tugged gently at the parchment.
He glanced at the etching beneath his boot. “I like flowers, too.”
She scowled and inched closer to the parchment, her fingers still splayed over it. “I was chasing it down the road. It’s mine.”
“My boot is on it.”
“Get your boot off her parchment,” Christian’s voice boomed from behind her.
Willow watched the man’s playful smile disappear as he lifted his gaze to Christian.
“Sterling,” he whispered. He gazed down at her again in contemplation, keeping his boot on the etching for a moment longer before finally raising his foot.
Willow snatched the parchment away, and Christian offered her a hand to help her to her feet.
Christian stood rigid, his eyes blazing. His fists clenched, and the muscles in his jaw clenched as he spat out the name, “Demory.” He stared at the man with an expression that could have melted glass. “What are you doing here?”
Demory glanced at the town and then back at Christian. “I’m seeking passage out of France. It’s dangerous for those of us tied to the Templars.”
Christian’s eyes narrowed in disbelief.
Demory’s stare swept Willow and then returned to Christian. “I’m certain you are doing the same.”
Willow glanced at Christian. His icy blue eyes were slitted, and his jaw tight in an unyielding line. Wanting to leave as quickly as possible, she turned back to Demory. “Thank you for stopping my parchment.”
That smug grin returned to Demory’s lips.
Willow stepped away, pulling Christian with her. They walked up the road to the top of the hill, and Christian paused to look back.
Demory stood, watching them.
“Who is he?” Willow asked. He had a sword strapped to his waist beneath the traveler’s cloak that opened in the front.
“His name is Remy Demory,” Christian replied stiffly.
When he didn’t elaborate, Willow commented, “Not a friend of his?”
Sage walked up to them, anxiously staring at the parchment in Willow’s hand. “You got it?”
Willow’s eye remained fixed on the man as she passed the parchment to Sage.
Sage followed her gaze.
Demory finally turned and strolled toward the town.
Sage returned to the tree they had been resting at where Raven waited.
When Willow moved to follow, Christian caught her arm tightly. “He’s not to be trusted.”
She shrugged. “We probably won’t see him again anyway.”
“Hmmm.” Christian mused. “Maybe.”
