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I should have expected as much.

When I received word Reyne was staying in the queen’s rooms and she would see me off in the morn, I was not surprised. Cettina had whisked her away from supper for a reason. That reason, I supposed, had to do with our uncomfortable supper. And the queen was not the only one to have noticed the tension between us.

Gille asked me about it too, and I confessed to some of our difficulties. He had little advice to offer, except to reiterate that which he’d said once before. But I don’t need anyone to tell me I’m different with Reyne. I know it. I feel it.

When I see her, with Reyne having said she would meet me in the courtyard this morn to see me off, I understand precisely what they were planning—for as Cettina rides toward me, wearing breeches and a surcoat with the Tree of Loigh prominent on her chest, a woman in an identical outfit rides beside her.

See me off indeed. When I catch my wife’s eyes, she is unapologetic. Brazen, even.

My inclination is to laugh. This minx is every bit the girl who hid under a trestle table in her father’s hall to spy on a meeting. There’s little I can say now, and she well knows it. Besides which, the riding party is fifty strong, and it is my duty to ride in front of the group, Lord Scott in back. Any more than fifty, we surmised, would be too difficult to hide well at Carwell Castle. Much of our plan hinges on the bastards planning this heinous attack not knowing we are there. Unless, of course, Father Aiken lied to us and we are being betrayed by him.

By staying at Carwell and not somewhere closer to the border of Firley Dinch, we’ve planned for such a circumstance. Thankfully, we will not be close to the fighting if any should occur, the only fact that consoles me about Reyne’s presence.

It is only much later that I have occasion to look back for my wife. The stream is small, hardly notable, but I still mean to cross it with her.

She meets my eyes and shakes her head slightly, or so it seems from the distance.

Does she not want me to escort her across?

I wait as she and the queen approach the water, and now that she’s closer, I can tell she is indeed waving me off. Because she is still angry? Aye, likely so. I ride ahead but feel compelled to turn once I reach the other bank so that I might watch her cross. Though it is but a stream, most of the rocks at the bottom visible, I hold my breath as she makes her way across. Relieved when she does it without hesitation, I ride back to the front.

All day, she rides with the queen.

We stop only once. Though I wish to speak with Reyne, I’m too stubborn to do so, and she clearly has no great wish to treat with me. It rankles that she does not trust me to make this journey alone, even more so because she does not appear to hold the situation against Cettina, only against me. So even though my eyes are strained from trying so hard not to look back at her, I do not attempt to speak with her until we stop for the eve.

As the men set up the tents, the Curia having agreed it is too dangerous for us to stay anywhere well-traveled enough to boast an inn, I stride toward the two women. The only ones on this journey.

I shake my head at the irony of their newfound friendship. Even now the two are huddled together, laughing about something they see in the distance. Reyne points toward the trees as Cettina shakes her head.

Until I approach.

And then their laughter cuts off abruptly, as if I’d doused them both with a cold bucket of water.

“Lord Scott will see to camp,” I say, my eyes drifting toward Reyne’s long, lean legs as she stands. Her surcoat is much shorter than Cettina’s, and it gives me a perfect view of them.

“You are hunting for supper?” Cettina guesses.

I lift the bow in my hand. “Always perceptive, my queen.”

She makes a sound that some might interpret as a snort. Of course, she is a queen, and queens do not snort. Or so she’s told me before.

“Reyne.” I hardly know what to say to her. So many emotions roil through me. Anger, disappointment, worry and, as she stares definitely back at me, lust.

“Erik.”

With nothing more to say, at least in front of Cettina and the others within hearing, I nod to both women and turn to leave.

Reyne does not stop me.

Four of us head out in opposite directions to hunt. Another two scouts have already ridden a good distance ahead to ensure our location is secure. As I make my way east, away from the clearing where we made camp, the deep thicket of woods becomes even thicker. There is enough light to hunt by for now, but it will soon fade away. If I do not catch something soon, it will be left to the others to provide the meal.

Stopping to listen carefully, the sound of running water is the only one I can hear. Walking toward it, I’m surprised when the trees clear once again and a small stream appears. Larger than the one we crossed earlier but not so large as to be listed on the map, I make my way toward its banks to look for tracks. Seeing small prints freshly cut into the mud, I stop and listen once again.

Still nothing.

Crouching down for a better look, I realize a deer is close by, either a small buck or large doe. The distance between the prints made by the front feet tells me this deer is walking and not running.

A good sign.