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“Why did you run?” he asked her again.
“To get away from you.”
“Why?”
She set her teeth, jaw tight. “Maybe I find you revolting.”
He considered that, chewing thoughtfully. “You didn’t find me revolting when we were naked in bed together, when I was buried inside you and you were gasping my name in pleasure. In fact, I recall you—”
“Enough!” She fixed him with a baleful green glare. “If you’re feeling sprightly enough to be all chatty, then you might as well mount up and ride back to Port Anatole. You need a real healer to treat those wounds before they fester.”
“But I—”
“So does Vale,” she interrupted, tipping her head at the horse grazing nearby. “I treated his wounds as best I could, but they need attention, too.”
He leapt to his feet—correction: stood, and then nearly staggered—ignoring her snicker. Either she mocked his weakness or how easily she’d redirected his attention. He’d put coin on the latter. Veronica might want to act like she cared nothing for him, but her actions spoke louder than her sharp words. He made his way to Vale, checking him over. The wounds looked angry, but she’d found the healing salve he carried for the horse.
“Thank you again,” he said, nodding to her. “I’m grateful.”
She took out a lantern and began coaxing the fire elemental back into it. “He’s a good horse. Brave and great-hearted. He deserves being cared for, and I was happy to do it.” She pointedly said nothing about what Gabriel deserved, he noted.
“Well, thanks to you, he looks sound enough to carry us both to Port Anatole, if we take it slowly and rest often. We can make it by nightfall.”
With the fire elemental back in its home, she closed the lantern door, shoulders sagging. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into letting me go.”
He went and crouched beside her.Ouch.No, crouching was too painful. He sat heavily and took the lantern from her, setting it aside so he could take her hands in his. She didn’t refuse, but she didn’t meet him halfway either. Her hands lay limp and cold as old lettuce, and she wouldn’t meet his eye.
“Those hunters won’t be the only ones the Convocation sends,” he said gently. “They tracked you this far; others can do the same. The Convocation wants you retrieved at all costs. I don’t think they’ll ever stop trying.” He hesitated, wondering how much to tell her. “Veronica, that proctor—she said some scary stuff about punishing you and how a recalcitrant familiar must be disciplined and retrained. That’s what those hunters were taking you to.”
She nodded stiffly, resignation in the lines of her body. Taking a breath, she raised her head, searching his face with green eyes gone thoughtful, even sad. “And what isyourplan for me, Lord Phel?”
His entire “plan” had been to get to her first—a qualified success there—and talk to her, which wasn’t getting him anywhere. “I’m taking you back to Meresin with me,” he decided out loud, falling back on his original plan. She might hate him, but his reasons for applying for her hadn’t changed. He’d known from the beginning that his marriage would be for ambition rather than for love, even if he’d sentimentally hoped for more. “I can protect you there,” he added, knowing the words were inadequate.
She tugged her hands away and stood. “We’ve got a ways to go, so we might as well start.”
“That easily?” he asked, eyeing her, not trusting her quick capitulation.
Tugging viciously on the collar, she rounded on him. “Where am I going to go likethis?” she hissed. “How can I escape if you and those hunters can track me? Even if I somehow persuade you to let me go,theynever will. You said it yourself. I’ve lost, and there’s no way for me to win. I might as well start resigning myself to my fate.”
Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck, wishing viciously that he felt just a little less like complete shit. When he’d imagined having this conversation, it had gone much better. Pushing creakily to his feet, he clucked to Vale to come over. His tack had been cleaned and oiled, yet another task Veronica had quietly handled. He slipped the bridle over the horse’s head.
“Why did you put yourself up for the Betrothal Trials if you didn’t want this?” he demanded, buckling the straps. Somehow, he’d ended up as the villain here when he’d entered into the deal thinking they at least had the same goals. The Convocation’s arcane customs weren’t his doing; he was just playing by the rules to restore House Phel.There is nothing civilized about this situation. It’s a fancy veneer plastered over a barbaric ritual.“I asked you that night why you were engaging in the Trials if you thought they were so barbaric, and you said because you wanted to control your own destiny.”
“Yeah,” she drawled, “that didn’t work out so well for me.” She pointed to the collar, in case he’d forgotten.
Gabriel set his teeth and arranged the saddle pad on Vale’s back, verifying that nothing would chafe the horse’s wounds. The one positive of Vale being injured in full tack was that none of his injuries were under it. “Need I reiterate that I didn’t put that obscene thing on you? I said I’d figure out how to get it off.” He lifted the saddle and halted as agony lanced down his side, and nearly whimpering at the shock of pain.
“Oh, give me that,” Veronica snarled, wresting the saddle from him easily and lifting it onto Vale’s back. “I was serious that I’m not fixing your stitches if you rip them out. I had a moment of weakness, because I was stupid and sentimental and felt bad that you got wounded rescuing me from thosethings. If you pass out on me again, though, I might just leave you lying here and try my luck on my own. How much worse could it be?” she muttered to herself, tightening the girth.
“Worse,” he ground out. “From what that Convocation proctor said,muchworse.”
“I only have your word for that, and what’sthatworth?” she retorted in the same tone, walking Vale a couple of steps until he blew out a breath.
Gabriel released a breath at the same time, unaccountably wounded by that accusation. “Lady Veronica Elal,” he said through his teeth, “I have never once lied to you, nor have I given you any reason to think I had or would. I’d venture that you know what the Convocation will and will not do far better than I.”
She winced as she finished the final securing of the girth. “You’re right, Lord Phel. I apologize for that. I am… not in a good frame of mind.”
“I can understand that.” He eyed the stirrup, wondering if he’d be able to get himself in the saddle. She was right that he needed a healer. “I know you must have had a good reason to run, but I think we can help each other. We can work this out.”
