Page 43 of Marin’s Promise

If her captain of the guard questioned her orders, it did not show on his face. Sir Richard nodded, and pulled two men forward. Drake had been assisting Marin’s sisters, but stopped and took the place of one of the men.

Marin stood by Bran's side with her blade in her hand as he was carted to the nearest horse. Drake nodded in gratitude as he passed, his mouth set in a grim line as he helped Bran to safety. All around them, Bran's reivers were claiming the horses and abandoning the area. Some did not ride in the direction of Werrick Castle.

Perhaps they thought Bran was dead. Even if they did, the number who abandoned him was not enough to allow Marin the opportunity to seize control of her home once more. Not with the number of men she had lost. And certainly not with her promise to marry Bran.

She suspected many had grown weary of their time at Werrick Castle. A full belly only went so far when one’s pockets were not being padded with coin.

Sir Richard waited by her side until Bran was put onto a horse with Drake. An arrow shot from somewhere unseen and sank into the earth between them.

The Grahams were too close. It was time to go whether they were ready or not. Drake nodded and took off with Bran secured on the horse with him. Sir Richard and Marin urged their horses onward but remained at the rear of the band of her father’s soldiers and Bran's reivers. They rode as hard from battle as they'd ridden into it, both man and beast sweating with the effort to avoid the storm of Graham fighters thundering at their heels.

There were so few soldiers ahead of them. Leila slumped limp against Anice, with Piquette running to keep up with the horses. Marin's heart clenched. Ella and Cat’s horses remained close to Anice; their concern echoed by their proximity to their fallen sister. She’d come so close to losing them all. And so many men had been slain.

They had yet to assess those killed today, but she knew the number would be significant to her small force. She gritted her teeth against the icy wind pelting her face with shards of rain and wished she could equally stand up to tearing pain within.

“They've gone, my lady,” Sir Richard shouted over the wind.

She whipped her head to peer behind her. The Grahams were in the distance, their horses turned back in the direction of Mabrick. Apparently, they had decided the chase was not worth it with their stolen castle now secure.

Tears burned in her eyes and leaked hot at the corners. She angrily wiped them away before Sir Richard could see and sniffed hard. Her face was chaffed from the wind, as raw outside as she was on the inside.

She slowed their horses to a canter, as did the soldiers and reivers in front of them. All but Anice and Drake, who continued to sprint onward to get Leila and Bran to the healer with haste.

Marin gasped for breath, her heart still going too fast. Beneath her legs, her horse's sides swelled in and out as he attempted to catch his breath as well. It had been close for all of them.

“Richard, I…” Marin's words choked off as tears threatened to overwhelm her. Instead, she took a moment and looked down at her hands. She'd lost her gloves in the fray and her fingers had gone pink with bitter cold beneath the stains of fresh blood. “I'm sorry I sent you to Mabrick. All of you. I didn't know.” Her words broke again, and she shook her head in an attempt to clear the ache from her throat.

The lines of Sir Richard's brow deepened. “You couldn't possibly have known, my lady.”

Marin offered a distracted nod, unconvinced. Her father always seemed to know what was safe, and what was treacherous. It was a skill she had not yet had the opportunity to master. Her limited experience had incurred a steep cost.

How she missed him, and longed for him to be home, to have made all these decisions instead of her.

“Do you think enough of Bran's men have abandoned him?” Sir Richard nodded to Drake’s horse in the distance ahead of them.

Her sigh billowed white in front of her face for a split second before being torn away by the wind. “Even if they did, retaking the castle isn't possible.” Marin's heart slid lower in her chest by the tug of regret. “I made an agreement.”

“To save them.” Sir Richard regarded her sisters.

She nodded.

“Your father will be proud of you, my lady.”

The captain of the guard always had encouraged her at her lower moments, except this time she couldn't tolerate Sir Richard’s praise. Not with everything she was giving up. For what would her father do when he returned from war and found his castle belonging to a marauder? And that Marin had married him?

She merely nodded, unable to speak, unable to quell the gnawing unease in her stomach. Bran had been limp where he lay against Drake before they rode ahead. In truth, Bran might not live through the remainder of the journey back to the castle.

And she would have nothing to uphold if he was dead.