Page 23 of Stolen Thorn Bride

And then, at long last, as the fitful sun indicated it was nearly the noon hour, they were ready.

With considerably less than his usual grace, Dechlan readied the packs and checked the harness on his own mount before swinging into the saddle and making his way out through the gates without a backward glance.

On an ordinary day, their path made for an impressive sight. Caislan Daire was set on a promontory at the head of a valley, flanked by ancient oak trees. The lake at the base of the valley was glassy smooth, and reflected the clouds in its crystal waters alongside the soaring, graceful spires of the castle itself.

But today, as Dechlan followed the winding road towards the lake, preparing to head north through a gap in the hills, he could not truly appreciate the sight.

He could only reflect that it no longer felt like the safe haven it once had.

And with that thought, he recalled that he was not the only one with no safe haven. Glancing back, he saw the human making her way down the road in his wake, looking more uncomfortable with every slow and gentle step her mount took. In fact, a few more steps and she would likely lose her balance and fall right off. It was a sobering sight, and it reminded him once again of all that he’d lost.

Elves learned to ride almost as soon as they learned to walk, and those who trained as warriors were bonded with a mount by the time they were fifteen. But he was not bonded to another elf, who might understand his grief over his mount’s death, his joy in a swift run through the autumn forest, or the freedom he felt when racing across the open moor. Not another elf who had trained for war her entire life, or who could begin to grasp the depth of the responsibilities that weighed him down. Responsibility for his land, for his people—for the future of all elves.

This was a human—a farmer. She had no idea how to ride, and had probably never handled a weapon in her life.

It was tempting to lose himself in the bitterness of those thoughts, but he could not. Or perhaps better to say that hewouldnot. The truth was, by most estimations, he owed this woman his life, whether it was a life he’d valued or not. And none of this was her fault.

Letting out a deep sigh, Dechlan turned around and rode back to join her.

“Is there a problem?” he asked as he drew near and turned to ride beside her.

“Are dreadwolves always this stubborn?” she asked with a scowl.

It appeared to Dechlan that Aral was being quite commendably well-behaved.

“I don’t believe he’s doing anything untoward,” he remarked casually.

“I was trying to catch up with you, and the creature won’t go any faster than someone’s granny taking her morning constitutional!”

“That,” Dechlan pointed out with perfect honesty, “is because he’s polite and realizes you’re about to tip out of your saddle.”

She opened her mouth, and for a moment, he was sure she was going to snap at him again. Instead, her shoulders suddenly dropped, and she took a deep breath through her nose.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t really mad at him. I’m just…”

After a long pause, he prompted her. “Just what?”

He wasn’t sure she was going to answer. But eventually, she shot him a sideways glance and seemed to brace herself for his reaction.

“I’m afraid,” she said flatly, and the bleak word filled him with shame.

He had spent so much time embracing his own anger and sense of injustice, he had not given sufficient thought to how she might be feeling. To her circumstances, yes, but not her feelings, and the two were not the same.

“That is understandable,” he said, as gently as he knew how. “But you need not fear Aral. He is as unlikely to hurt you as…”

“I’m not afraid ofhim,” she said, a wry twist to her mouth. “Strange, I know. But I generally like animals better than people, and once I got over my surprise, he’s actually quite nice.”

Dechlan was simultaneously amused and somewhat stung. There was only one other thing for her to be afraid of at the moment, but nothing that had happened to frighten her had been of his doing.

“Then allow me to assure you that you need not be frightened of me, either. I realize I am a stranger and that you have little reason to trust me, but I swear that I will never harm you in any way.”

“Of course you won’t,” she responded dryly, with a return to her customary snark. “Your life is tied to mine.”

He did not dignify that observation with a retort. “Then what do you fear?”

She hesitated for a moment before replying. “I may be making a mistake, trusting you with so much honesty, but in truth? I fear many things. I fear what will become of my family in my absence. And while I am here, I fear being a burden.” Her words were stark and direct. “I fear being unwanted and alone amongst a people who resent my presence.”

There was nothing he could do about her family, but the other? He doubted she would believe whatever comforting words he offered, yet his honor compelled him to try.