Unaware of his struggle, she turned and leaned against the horse, sliding a hand down its flanks. “Sorry, sorry,” she murmured to it. “You got a raw deal with us.”
She tried to straighten, staggered a little, and he moved her aside to unclip the horse's reins and let it move as it wished.
They would have to leave it here, and hope it found its way back to the fortress.
When he turned, he found Ava was still standing where he'd left her, swaying slightly.
“They're coming.” Her voice was a little raw.
“Yes, but the horse can't go any more.”
She nodded, then sank to the ground, head bowed. “Just need a moment,” she whispered.
The dogs bayed in the distance, and he scooped her up as he tried to work out the lay of the land.
The ground was undulating, gentle rises and falls, covered in a thick forest. There was plenty of cover, but the dogs would find them.
Feeling helpless, he walked to the largest tree he could find, leaning against the trunk.
They could hide, but it would do no good.
And they couldn't outrun dogs and horses. Not in their current condition.
Ava rubbed her cheek against his shoulder as he sat down and settled her across his lap, and then crinkled her nose.
“They smell, don't they?” she muttered as he pulled her close and tucked his cloak around them both.
“What?” His voice cracked. He would fight when they came, but he needed a moment to rest. Just to sit quietly with Ava in his arms for a little while.
“The cloaks. They stink. I wish we didn't need them.”
He hadn't noticed. He had lived in places where it was a benefit not to notice these things.
Ava's breathing changed, deepened, and he realized she had fallen asleep, a hand resting limp against his bare chest under his cloak.
He didn't move, not wanting to disturb her until he had to.
He leaned back and listened to the barking dogs and then, as they came closer, the thudding hooves of the horses, the shouts of the men.
He knew the moment they'd found the horse.
“Fuck.”
“I told you.” The voice sounded aggrieved. “My dogs never steer me wrong.”
“The hoof marks clearly led in this direction.” Someone sounded defensive now.
“But they weren't on the horse, were they? The dogs said they went east thirty minutes back.”
There was silence.
“It seems your dogs may have been right, but it was necessary to check, anyway.” The voice speaking now had to be the general, Luc thought.
No one had anything else to say once he'd spoken.
“Well, let's give the dogs the lead.” It was an order, not a suggestion, and the whole stampede of them moved away, the sound fading into the distance.
The dogs must have tried to go east when they found the bandage.
Luc couldn't understand why, couldn't understand how, but they were safe.
Ava had slept through the whole thing, turned into him, as if she couldn't get close enough.
He was a warrior raised in a Chosen camp—he could sleep anywhere, anytime. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth and weight of her against him.
The absolute silence that had fallen at the arrival of the dogs and men slowly faded, and the rustles and noise of the forest resumed.
For the moment, they were safe.
Her working had . . . well, worked.
Ava smiled against Luc's chest as she remembered her grandmother telling her once the point of a working was for it to work, so to be sure her intention was carefully and thoughtfully done. It was not in the spirit of her agreement with Ava's mother, but no actual sewing had been done.
She hadn't had the time or the conditions for something elegant, but the few stitches she'd embroidered into the blood-soaked bandage must have been enough.
She wondered if the blood had helped. Strengthened the suggestion to the hounds that the way they needed to go was to the east.
Or perhaps the strength of the blood was merely its effect on her. It had made her determined no more of that blood should be spilled.
She would have to experiment and see which it was.
And now she was free, she could do so.
She wanted to be as powerful as she could be when she found Herron and finished him.
He had left her mother to starve to death, had taken her father's life. Kept Ava herself a prisoner for years.
There was a reckoning to be had.
Luc woke with a start, almost tipping her from his lap, and then tightening his arms around her in reaction.
“They passed us by.” Ava looked up at him, and he gave a slow nod.
“The hounds were pulling them east, and when they found the horse, they thought we'd tried to trick them by sending it ahead without us.”
She smiled up at him, and he smiled back, and something in the way he did it made her think he smiled often.
She hoped there would come a time when she could do the same.
“So what's next?” She didn't try to move out of his arms. She was warm and comfortable.
He had to be less so, he was up against a tree, with the weight of her across his legs, but as he hadn't indicated he wanted her off him, she was happy to stay where she was.
“The Rising Wave will be on the eastern plains, and that's the general direction the general and his men have gone, so we need to head northeast for now, until we can turn south and join them.”
“What is the Rising Wave?” she asked.
He frowned down at her.
“I was a prisoner in the fortress for nearly two years,” she reminded him. “And no one told me anything. The queen herself could be dead, for all I know.”
“The queen isn't dead.” Luc's forehead smoothed. “The Rising Wave is the rebel army.”
“Do you think they'll have given up hope you're alive?” She worried her lip. “They might have fallen into disarray and gone their separate ways.”
He stared at her. “Why would they fall into disarray without me?”
She tried a small smile on him. “Because you are the person the Herald calls the Turncoat King?”
He sucked in a breath. “I told you I was not.”
She pressed her lips together. Settled in to get a bit more comfortable. “I know, but I didn't believe you.”
He closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the bark of the trunk. “They won't have fallen into disarray. There are strong leaders in command of the battalions, and they'll keep things together.” He looked down at her, and she felt ensnared in his gaze.
Her lips parted, and she felt a fizzing in her blood.
She lay against the bare skin of his chest, the heat of him warming her hands, her cheek.
Something hard pressed against her thigh, and she sucked in a breath as she realized what it was.
The heat in her blood pooled between her legs, and she ran her hand up his chest to his neck, curved her hand around his nape and pulled him closer.
He hesitated a moment, then cradled the back of her head with a hand and kissed her, his other hand sliding up to cup her breast.
It was as if he had lit a fire inside her.
She couldn't get enough of him, and thank the heavens, he acted as if he couldn't get enough of her, lifting her tunic so they were skin to skin.