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“Ach,” he mumbled, reaching for the stool. Standing to the side, she watched as he climbed it and pushed. The opening did not budge. He tried again, to no avail.

“’Tis a steel lock,” Reina said. “I thought perhaps if we had a rock or something similar—”

As she spoke, Galien squatted and then pushed upward with both hands, palms up, at the same time. The thick wood splintered, an opening appearing in the center.

“Impossible,” she said as a large piece fell to the ground. ’Twas much too thick for a man to break with his hands. But as she watched, Galien grabbed the jagged edges and pulled, creating a wider and wider opening. The lock still in place, wood and dirt and grass which covered the escape hatch now everywhere, it seemed as if they hadn’t needed the key after all. As she continued to watch, Galien reached up to the side of the hatch that was still locked and lifted himself up as easily as if the opening was not high above his head.

For a moment, she thought perhaps he was gone, abandoning her. But then his head and arms appeared once again. “Do you intend to stand there or come with me, lass?”

Reina very much intended to come with him. Turning back was not really a choice she could make. Blowing out the candle, she placed it on the ground as if preserving its stand mattered at all. Then, climbing the wooden stool, Reina had no sooner lifted her arms than she was pulled upward, clearing the wooden opening easily.

“You lifted me as if I weigh nothing at all.” She was not the smallest of women, and yet Galien pulled her up as if she were a girl of ten and two. Standing in the woods just outside Anbarth’s outer bailey, knowing they were, at least for now, very much alone, Reina was grateful for a moment to suck in a deep breath of fresh air.

Galien did not comment on the broken escape hatch, but he did look up to the sky. Though he’d not been a prisoner for long, Reina imagined it must be a good feeling to see the moon and stars after being locked in a cell. Even if for no more than a full day.

“It will rain soon.”

Her head snapped back down. “How could you possibly know such a thing?”

“Your body cannot feel when it will rain?”

She’d never heard something so absurd. “Perhaps it is not as sensitive as yours.”

For the first time since they met, he looked at her in that way. The way a man looked at a woman when he desired her. The way her intended had often looked at her when they were betrothed. And despite the fact that this man was, moments ago, a prisoner—that dirt and dried blood was caked on nearly every bit of skin—something. . . happened. An odd sensation, to be sure.

“I can guarantee it is, but that is a discussion for another day.”

She swallowed, ignoring his comment, and pointed. “The village is that way.”

With that, Galien stalked off in the opposite direction. Her mouth dropping open, Reina expected him to stop and wait for her. But he did not. Instead, the man simply walked away, forcing her to run to catch him.

“Did you intend to leave me back there?” she asked, trying not to look into the trees. It was a very different experience, being in the woods during the day than in the darkest part of night, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what lurked there.

“We are not going to the village.”

Reina supposed this was his way around arguing with her on that point. She could follow him, or nay. It might be the best decision, despite their lack of supplies. But the thought of leaving without saying goodbye to Joan, not knowing when she would return. . . if ever. . . Would she be arrested by the king for her part in this man’s escape if she did? Would her parents ever forgive her? Surely they would not be implicated, for it was clear this plan was her own, but Reina did not want any ill to befall them because of her.

Even if they’d been lying to her? Was it possible Reina was not English at all but the missing babe of Dennochbrook, as Galien seemed to believe? Reina doubted the fact, but did not doubt he was right about one thing.

It did indeed begin to rain as they walked.

Though slow to start, by the time they entered the first clearing, where Reina was about to give Galien directions, the heavens opened on them. There was no shelter to be had. Indeed, they would be out in the open in a moment. The choice between turning back toward Anbarth, west to the village, east toward the sea, or north, to Scotland, was not one at all. If they started east and then made their way north, Reina and Galien would quickly come upon their closest neighbors, ones as likely to turn both of them in to the king’s men as they would to return Reina and her Scottish companion to Anbarth.

“Are you well known in the village of Condren?”

It was difficult to even hear him now, the rain was falling so heavily. “Nay,” she shouted.

“We could reach it by nightfall if we move quickly. Here,” Galien indicated ahead of them, “will be the most dangerous. In the open. We must run,” he said, as if preparing for a race. “Are you prepared?”

She spied the next set of trees and pretended to ignore the closest watchtower on the very edge of Anbarth’s outer wall behind them. If someone were in there, looking this way, she and Galien would be seen. And no one, unless they be a thief, or perhaps an escaped prisoner, would be about here in the dead of night. In the pouring rain.

He held out his hand.

It should have been a ridiculous notion, grasping the hand of a man who’d been her father’s prisoner. One who was a threat to her king and country. Who was large enough, she was sure, to kill a man with one swift blow. But as she stood there, now so drenched it was as if she’d jumped in the nearby river, Reina could feel her arm raising.

With the dirt and blood now washed away, he appeared less like a man who she’d just rescued from Anbarth’s dungeons and more like one of her father’s knights. Dressed a bit differently, of course. When his hand clasped around hers, Reina welcomed the madness of their situation. Doing otherwise would rescue neither of them from this situation.

His hand, strong and reassuring, pulled hers.