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Galien could not tell if Rory realized what was happening. But Reina clearly had.

“Over here.” Rory led them to a table in the corner. The board had been cut to fill a space with four barrels that served as seats. It was unlike any other inn, more akin to a tavern than an establishment that welcomed travelers. Wood beams supported an upper floor. Dusty candlelit lanterns hung from them, making it impossible at this time of day to actually see the walls, or anything not illuminated. Those patrons that watched them did so wearily. Others, too deep in their mugs, held little curiosity about anyone, including even Reina.

“Sit beside me here,” Galien said, shielding her as much as possible, already regretting his decision not to suggest Reina take supper abovestairs, as she’d done at the Wild Boar. Frankly, he was loathe to part from her, even knowing their continued closeness was beginning to derail him.

“Ale and pigeon pie,” a young servant said, placing both in front of them. Galien didn’t recognize the boy. He knew most here, as Keston House was a frequent stop on his travels.

“There are,” Reina’s neck lengthened as she attempted to peer around the corner, “no other women here.”

“I’d question their wisdom, if there were.” Rory rushed to add, “Present company excluded, of course.”

“Of course,” Reina said. With much to discuss, it was not until they were mostly finished eating that Rory began the speech Galien had known was coming.

“It’s time to lay low, cousin. If not now, when?” He elicited Reina’s aid. “If not for you, he would be close to death, aye?”

“My father was not in residence when Galien was brought to Anbarth. But I’d heard, once he returned, ‘the Scot’ would not be long for Anbarth’s prisons and would be on his way to Westminster. To the king.”

“Dead,” Rory said again, as if repeating it gave the word more levity. “Imagine your parents. . . Oriana’s response. And Rodric. The boy looks to you as if you are a god.”

“I imagined it plenty,” he ground out. “And have no need to do so again.”

“So you will go home? Let others fight for now, Gael.”

“I will for a time,” he said, but before Rory could rejoice at the fact, added, “because I aim to help her.” He nodded toward Reina. Addressing her, he asked, “May I tell him?”

Her lips had just parted to take a sip of ale. Pausing at his question, they stayed that way. Galien could slip his tongue inside, coaxing her to pleasure. Reina felt deeply—for the people she tended to, for everyone, really—which meant she would feel him deeply too. He was sure of it.

Unable to resist a smile, he could hear her unasked question. Will you cease to look at me that way?

And his unanswered response. No.

“Tell me what, precisely?” Rory asked, breaking the spell.

“Of course.” Reina did lift the mug to her lips then. With just one lantern near their heads, but not hanging over their table, part of Reina’s face lay in the shadows. The other, awash in light, was what Galien stared at now. Until Rory cleared his throat.

“I persuaded Reina to set me free in exchange for assistance in finding the truth about her parents.” Galien had his cousin’s attention now. “She’s been rather sheltered at Anbarth, with good reason. I’ve cause to believe,” he lowered his voice, “she is the babe of Dennochbrook.”

For a moment, Rory seemed to scoff at the idea. His look of disbelief was not unexpected. Until Reina jumped in.

“So rarely do Scotsmen grace our halls, that when I heard he was being kept in Anbarth’s dungeons, I decided to visit.”

Galien laughed. “Visit. You say it as if you bundled yourself up for the day to take a ride to your closest neighbor.” He could not resist adding, “Good day, prisoner. Shall we have ourselves a wee chat?”

She swatted his arm. “Arse.”

“Ahh, but I do enjoy the words you’ve learned on our journey together. Shall I teach you a few more?”

“I beg your pardon,” Rory joined in, using his best upper-crust accent. “But if you would not mind ceasing this incessant flirting but for a moment, to finish your story, I would be most grateful.”

“We are not flirting,” Galien assured him. “Simply. . .”

Rory leaned back and crossed his arms. “Flirting?”

Even Reina seemed amused.

“You were telling Rory?” he prompted her, drinking deeply, prompting a laugh from his cousin.

“I was saying. . .” She shot Galien a look that made him feel as if he’d just taken a long swig of whiskey. “I stole into the dungeons to speak to him. I told him what my parents told me. That a woman passing through Anbarth alone gave birth and died for her efforts. They raised me as their own but. . .”