Page 38 of A Touch of Shadows

She stared at him, unable to detect anything in his face that was a threat. And yet somehow everything was. It had to be. Her hand still gripped convulsively on the diary. There could be answers in there. She would never know.

‘You searched for me?’

‘You were stolen from us.’ He sighed and shook his head so gracefully. ‘There’s so much I need to explain. Please, come with me. Let us talk. If you still wish to leave after I answer your many questions, that is your decision. I promise.’

She frowned, trying to work out whether she could trust him. Elodie would have said no, she knew that. So would Finn. But Elodie had told her not to trust the knights either, and there was no doubt that Finn was allied to them. She wrapped her arms around her chest, lifting her gaze to Leander’s face again.

‘I promise,’ he said again. ‘On my life. You are free to go, on my word. But please—you’re tired, you’re hungry, and we know the terrors you’ve been through, the dangers, the harsh treatment. I can help, Wren. Come with me now and let me help you.’

There was no way out of this. It was either agree and leave with him peaceably, or be dragged off kicking and screaming. She wasn’t under any illusions there. But no one had rushed her yet. Not one grabbed her or carried her off. Yet.

‘You’ll let me go.’

He nodded and his eyes carried traces of amusement. ‘Of course.’ His voice was the gentlest breeze against her senses, soothing and calming. It still felt like a trap.

What choice did she have really? She was already trapped. But he was offering her a modicum of dignity and there was, at least, that. One final thing to cling to. Let him have his way now and find her escape later if needs be. It was a logical decision.

Wren nodded and reached out to take his hand.

His touch was surprisingly gentle, not what she had expected at all. His fingers curled around hers, the touch careful and delicate, and he gave a small sigh, a sound that speared its way inside her, reawakening that blossoming pleasure she had felt with Finn. She almost snatched her arm back, but something stopped her.

Wren had expected to be seized and bound. But he wasn’t doing that. What was he planning?

His soldiers parted as they walked through their ranks, and beyond the gully she saw horses awaiting. She could hear the music again, drifting through the trees, just a whisper now, trying to reassure her. Her throat tightened. He could carry her off here and now and no one would ever know. If she mounted up behind him, who would stop him if he decided to ride all the way back to the border?

Where was Finn? He ought to have been back by now. Had they found him in the forest and killed him? Or would he return to find her gone and think she’d left willingly?

And wasn’t that what she was doing?

She imagined Elodie’s face, the horror and rage, the disappointment. Oh that would be the worst. Not Elodie angry – a terrible enough prospect – but the sense that Wren was letting her down.

Trembling, Wren hesitated and Leander stopped, waiting so patiently.

‘There’s nothing to fear, I swear on my honour and my life, my lady.’

‘I’m not… not a lady…’ And definitely not his.

His laugh was musical. ‘Of course you are. Or should be. Who has failed to treat you as you deserve?’ As he approached his mount she pulled back again and Leander paused. ‘If you would rather walk, we can do that? It isn’t far to our camp.’

Good. That was better. She could trust her own two feet, couldn’t she? And if she had to make a break for it, she would be in control. If Finn came back, they would stand more of a chance if she wasn’t on horseback with the prince. She doubted he’d hand her a mount of her own. Besides, she didn’t know what to do except hang on, which wasn’t going to be helpful.

The camp wasn’t far, which meant Finn might still find her.

Keep walking, she told herself. Keep your wits about you.

But… Leander promised answers. And she had so many questions. Questions Finn had been intent on avoiding, questions Elodie had never allowed her to ask…

‘I would prefer to walk,’ she told him as calmly as she could, amazed at how firm her voice sounded.

‘Then we shall walk, my lady,’ he replied and smiled that unnerving smile again. He still held her hand, but now he folded it over his arm and they made their way through the forest as if he was escorting her to a ball.

CHAPTER 22

WREN

The camp was pitched in the middle of a wide clearing. Some of the tents were utilitarian and a dark mottled green in colour, but in the centre was a tall pavilion of silks and leather, decorated with gold trimmings.

Leander threw back the door and led her inside. It was like stepping into a palatial chamber, with rugs underfoot and tapestries decorating the walls. It was as large as any of the rooms in the tower and had a luxurious air, which made Wren instantly on edge.