Page 67

But now she was certain: the Cardinal had never intended for her to live.

The guards had left them both for dead. Would that be enough for the Cardinal to believe his work was finished? Or would he send more men—“goons,” as Gideon had called them—to hunt them down and ensure their demise?

Either way, staying near the still-roaring inferno wasn’t wise. The thick column of black smoke rising above the treeline would draw attention from miles around.

“Yes, let’s go,” she agreed.

Gideon picked up his cloak from the ground and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Whatever happened to the cloak I was wearing? The thought floated through her exhausted mind, but she was too weak to voice it. It didn’t matter now. Nothing did, except that they were both still alive.

For now.

When he wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her forward, she leaned into his strength gratefully. Her legs felt like water, and every step required conscious effort just to stay upright.

They followed the stream, hopping from stone to stone to avoid leaving any tracks behind. But it wasn’t easy. Every jolt of movement made her head pound, the pain flaring sharply behind her eyes.

Her feet wouldn’t cooperate either, but she held on to Gideon tightly and didn’t complain.

They needed to get as far from the fire as possible. Complaining wouldn’t change that truth.

And this wasn’t the first time she had fled through pain. It wouldn’t be the last.

Especially now that she knew the Cardinal wanted her dead.

She needed to find Emir.

She prayed he wasn’t hurt.

What had they told him? Did the Cardinal say she was dead?

Would they want to kill Emir too, or was he still useful to them—for now?

She hoped it was the latter.

They walked upstream for what felt like forever—stopping now and then to splash water on their faces, to drink, to rest briefly—until her strength finally gave out.

Her foot slipped on a moss-covered rock, and she would have fallen face-first into the stream if not for Gideon’s quick reflexes.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, clutching his arm for support. “I just need… a moment…”

He studied her in the dappled moonlight filtering through the trees. She saw the instant he realized how pale she was and how badly she trembled.

“No,” he said firmly. “You need rest. Real rest.”

Without waiting for her to protest, he swept her up into his arms, carrying her as if she weighed nothing. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly.

When was the last time someone carried me? When was the last time someone cared whether I was tired… or hurt… or afraid?

She couldn’t recall. Perhaps not since she was a child.

“You can’t carry me all night, Gideon,” she said.

“You’re right. I can’t,” he agreed, “and I don’t need to. Just until I find a safe enough spot for us to rest.”

He carried her away from the stream, deeper into the forest where the undergrowth was thick enough to provide concealment. After a few more minutes, he found a small clearing partially hidden by a fallen log and a tangle of berry bushes. He set her down carefully on a bed of moss and fallen leaves.

“We’ll spend the night here,” he decided, though she could see the tension in every line of his body. He wasn’t happy they had to stop, but they had no choice unless he planned to carry her the rest of the way.