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And yet…she had held onto that hope for so long. It did no harm to hold onto the axe now. She would need some weapon to kill Soren. Why not this one?
It was not even theft. Warrick’s axe was hers. He’d said it again and again. Perhaps that had been a lie, too. But he had said it.
Elina hefted the blade. Then stood staring down the road on which she’d come. Saw how empty it remained.
She could return to Galoth. Return and demand answers. But what might he say? He’d taken one look at her face and intended to kill her. Then he’d claimed that same moment was when he began to love her. What acceptable explanation could he give for his lies?
Surely the empty road was explanation enough. If Warrick had more to say, he would be on it. Following her. But he’d done what he’d meant to do and had returned the jewels to Galoth. Never would Elina forget those joyous faces. The children, running on feet that had been stone. The families joined together again, dancing and laughing and loving.
Such happiness was surely worth the price of her shattered heart.
Now she needed to bring joy to her own kingdom. Elina turned north, toward the one purpose that she had left.
Onward.
Always guarded by knights—and then Warrick—Elina had not given much thought to the dangers of riding alone. She wore a homespun traveling cloak and displayed no wealth, which seemed enough to deter the interest of thieves or assassins. The road had never posed any other threat to her when she’d traveled with her retinue.
Yet when she spotted the three riders ahead, something about their interest in her approach sent a shiver of unease over her skin. The unease became fear as the distance between them closed and she discerned their rapacious leers.
Alone on the road with them. Far from any village. Far from any help.
She could only rely on herself.
As they neared, Elina gripped handle of her axe and laid the weapon across her lap. She must have looked quite fierce—or they could see how little she had left to lose, the bleak purpose in her eyes—because immediately one of the men raised his hands as if to show how harmless he was.
He would not even meet her gaze, staring at a point over her shoulder as he called out placatingly, “We were only looking! Who would not cast an appreciative eye upon such a right comely wife?”
“Begone from me,” she spat and let the axe’s chain unravel with a menacing slither. “Or I will split your skulls with one swing of my blade.”
The men blanched and spurred their horses down the road. She watched them go.
No one else came.
Elina would have shared her triumph with Warrick, as she’d shared so much with him before—as a friend, a lover, a wife. And he would have praised her for her strength.
Surely it was not all a lie? He’d cared for her so tenderly through the purge. He’d stopped the poisoning and revealed Nanny Char’s betrayal. Had he done so only to gain her trust? To separate her from her retinue and lead her to Galoth? To make her more susceptible to his seduction?
Surely he’d known there was no need for the latter. Elina had been ready to open her thighs while he was still imprisoned in his cell.
She’d only meant to use him. For her pleasure. For his axe. For her people. If he’d used her in return to break a curse, could she truly think ill of him for it?
And regardless of how she’d begun…Elina loved him now. Beyond anything. Perhaps Warrick had truly come to love her, too?
But the road behind was so very empty. And there was no one to share her triumph with. No one to share the tale of how her snare finally yielded a mangy little squirrel. No one to share the roasted meat that she only picked at.
No one to share her bed.
Though when she closed her eyes at night, she could feel him as if he were there. A whisper over her skin. His warmth at her side. In her dreams, Warrick kissed her. Said her name. Told her to tie the ribbon.
But when she awakened, the warmth fled. And there was only one thing to do then.
Onward.
The first days became the first fortnight.
Every night, her dreams were filled with him.
Every day, the road behind was empty.
The Glass Mountains lay ahead.
Onward.
Then she bled.
She’d been swinging the axe at a tree when she noticed the trail of blood down the inside of her thigh, and idly wondered if she’d cut herself without realizing.
When Elina understood what it was, she almost laughed. Beyond a bit of spotting, she hadn’t had her courses in years. Not since the poisoning had begun. But her body was healing. This blood meant she could carry a child.
