by Sofia Grey
Marc’s hand continued to rub a soothing pattern across my back, and I pulled in a deep breath before continuing. I’d told this tale so often, I should be able to go through it without falling apart. Again.
“I couldn’t ride properly with my ankle injured. I had almost no control over my pony, and Jared ended up clipping a rope to my bridle and leading us.” I was afraid he’d go without me. “We passed several cohorts of Roman soldiers on the move, both cavalry and on foot and I imagine they’d been given the message to ship out. It made the roads busy, so Jared decided that we’d use the lesser-known tracks through the forest instead. Flavius rode with us too, along with some of his friends. I couldn’t navigate through the forest. I had to trust he was going the right way.”
We’d argued bitterly. I wanted us to take the road. He refused. I didn’t see why he was in such a hurry, and he snapped at me. “The Saxons will be here soon. And I am not going to let them capture us, Lila.”
I knew they wouldn’t be. The Archives don’t make that kind of mistake. And a horrible thought took root in my head and refused to leave. He wasn’t returning to the jump site after all.
Tears pressed against the backs of my eyes. Another deep breath. “I think Jared was lying to me, tricking me into going with him.” I stopped to gather my thoughts, to try and wrap myself in my usual calm exterior, even though my heart pounded and my head buzzed. “We stopped to rest, and that’s when a messenger came galloping up, looking for Flavius. I couldn’t hear what they said, but it looked urgent.”
Flavius yelled and raged and had to be restrained by one of his men. Jared stared at me across the glade where we’d stopped. All the color had drained from his face. One hand opened and closed around the sword he carried, while the other fisted at his side. I’ll never forget that look. He strode across to me, crouched and ran one hand across my hair, down my face, outlining my lips. “We need to move. We’re heading back to the road. It’s only a short distance from here.”
“You’re scaring me. What’s happened?”
He hesitated, and I knew in that moment he would lie to me. “Just more rumours. And I think you’re right, we’ll make better time on the road. Flavius and the others are staying on this track. We’re separating here.”
I forced an awkward smile for Marc. “I should have been pleased he now agreed with me, but I knew something was wrong. I should have pushed him but, foolishly, I didn’t. Like I said, I trusted him.”
I finished the story in a rush, trotting out the words one more time. “He hurried me back to the road, where we met up with a small Roman patrol heading west. Jared said they’d take me to Verulamium and I could ride on their cart, instead of trying to stay in the saddle. He said he was staying with Flavius and when I argued, he pulled a stunner from his tunic and fired it. He shouldn’t even have had a stunner. I remember being loaded onto the Roman cart and then waking up to chaos, a battle around me.”
A hot tear trickled down my face, and I scrubbed at it, still thinking about those last terrible hours. I could hear the screams ringing inside my head, the clashing of swords, the shouting and the stamping of panicked horses’ hooves. I relived the coppery tang of blood in my nostrils. The agony in my leg. The overwhelming fear. The heartache from Jared’s betrayal.
“The cart tipped over and crushed my leg but shielded me from the fighting.” I had to lie there while men fought and died a few feet away from me. “I found the stunner inside my tunic. Jared must have left it with me. I waited until it was quiet, dragged myself free, and managed to find a pony and ride the last few miles to Verulamium.” Crawling on my hands and knees over dead bodies, still warm and wet with blood. One soldier still alive and moaning, but there was nothing I could do for him. He died before I reached his side. If there hadn’t been so much adrenaline rushing through my veins, I could never have mounted the pony I found. “I lost a lot of blood. My leg was beyond repair when I finally arrived at the pickup location.”
I glanced up. Marc held out a flask of mead, but my hands shook too much to be able to take it. Shivers racked me from head to toe. I was a mess—again. When Marc slowly pulled me into his arms, my head resting against his muscled chest, I let him. I needed some comfort. I still couldn’t tell him everything. Some of the story would never be repeated.
I’d yelled at Jared, lashing out with my hands and struggling when he’d hauled me down from the pony. “You can’t leave me here. We’re not supposed to be on our own.”
“I’ll catch up with you.”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. I leaned against the saddle, keeping the weight off my bad ankle while he unfastened my bag. That’s when I knew what he was planning.
“You’re not coming back, are you?” His hand slipped on the pony’s bridle, and he cursed under his breath. He didn’t deny it, and I just exploded. “You’re running away with Flavius, aren’t you? When were you going to tell me, Jared? Don’t I mean anything to you? I thought…” I thought you loved me. “I thought we were friends. And friends don’t do this.” The daylight was fading rapidly; his face looked pale as the moon when he turned to me.
“What do I have to say, to make you go with these people?” He thrust my bag into my arms. “Yes, I’m staying, okay? You don’t mean anything to me.” Each word hammered another nail into my heart. “I had no intention of going back.” Relentless. Merciless. This Jared was a stranger.
I gaped when he produced the stunner and pressed it against my arm. I must have imagined his last words to me. I was groggy from the stunner. “I’m sorry, my love. Forgive me.”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. I wanted to die.
And when I finally crawled through the time jump portal, days later, I wanted revenge.
Chapter Nine
Jared
During dinner in the great hall, Jared stood behind Hilde as usual, waiting on her and trying to anticipate her needs. He knew her eating habits now and knew he could let his mind wander for short periods at a time.
His jaw ached. Rowena had proved difficult to please. His muscles had cramped before she’d finally relented and let him go, but even that was only a temporary reprieve. The warlord, Widreth, wouldn’t be back for days and he knew Rowena would call for him again. Jesus, he was so fucking tired of this.
He needed to think about something else. The dining hall had been beautiful in its day, he mused. Tiny blue and yellow mosaic tiles—tesserae—swirled in complex patterns across the floor, interlaced with white marble slabs. Saxon fighting had damaged a lot of the fine detail, but the main design could still be seen. He tracked the outline of a noble cockerel, a white bull, and the centerpiece: a fiery sun, the rays extending out to each corner of the room.
A quick glance at Hilde. She gorged on a bowl of rabbit stew, a trickle of gravy dribbling down her chin. It smelled good, and his stomach growled, reminding him it was a long time since breakfast, not that he’d been given much. The slaves were fed a thin gruel and rough bread in the morning, and then whatever leftovers were available for supper. As a diet, it sucked. He tried to supplement it by stealing the odd cup of milk or piece of fruit, but that was risky at best.
Hilde spoke to him, and he dragged his attention back, catching the last words. More bread. He nodded and stepped into the main floor space, heading for the back wall to the table laden with food. He kept his eyes downcast, hands loose by his sides, maintaining the protocols that had been beaten into him.
My name is Jared, and I will be free again.
The temptation to rip off an extra chunk of bread was immense. He entertained a brief vision of cramming it in his mouth unseen, filling his empty belly without Hilde knowing, and then he sighed and dismissed it as a pleasant fantasy. He had a lot of those and most were about Lila.
Turning back to Hilde, he caught a flash of yellow hair in the far corner. He’d bet that was the couple who arrived earlier. Another daydream involved Lila arriving at the hall with a squadron of ghardians. She’d be so pleased to se
e him again that she’d run into his open arms and he’d finally kiss her. She would taste every bit as sweet as he imagined, and her body would fit perfectly against his. She wouldn’t care that she was breaking their own protocols. She’d be overwhelmed with their reunion.
Four steps away from Hilde, and he risked another look at the dimly lit corner. Christ and all the saints, it was Lila. He couldn’t move his feet—they seemed glued to the floor—he could only stare, open-mouthed, at the woman eating dinner. The corn-yellow plait, the graceful nose and determined chin. He couldn’t see her eyes from where he stood but he’d swear they were kingfisher blue. He sucked in a deep breath, as though he’d forgotten basic motor functions, and locked his eyes onto her profile. Please turn around. Please feel me staring at you. Please see me, Lila.
Like a hunting dog scenting a rabbit, he stayed perfectly still, every muscle yearning to rush to her side. God, Lila. You came back for me. A heavy fist across the side of his head made his vision dance and blur, a curtain of stars descending while he struggled to stay upright. “Slave. Do your work.” The darkness cleared, and he saw the warrior scowling at him, fist raised in case a second blow was needed. Lila. It took a supreme effort, but he coaxed his feet into moving again and continued toward Hilde, turning to look at the corner as soon as he could.
The blonde girl had gone. No! His gaze darted up and down the main table, past Hilde, finding Rowena with a calculating smile on her face. Look away. His heart pattering, he scanned the far wall and breathed again when he found Lila. She was leaving with a well-dressed man at her side. Please, Lila. Please see me.
At the last moment before they left the dining hall, she paused, whispered into her companion’s ear and turned round. Jared lifted his chin, excitement coursing through him. She had to see him. She fucking had to. Her eyes scanned the diners, her brows tugging together as though she were puzzled, as though she’d heard him—felt him—but didn’t know where he was. When she shrugged and turned back to her companion then walked out, something withered inside him. His chest tight, he swallowed past the lump in his throat and sagged, his legs unsteady as though he stood on quicksand.
“Wolf.” Hilde’s tone was sharp. “I wanted mead as well as bread. Get to it, boy.” When she shoved at his thrall ring this time, he didn’t care that it scraped over open sores. Hope flared, as common sense finally woke up. Lila was there. She’d have at least one ghardian with her, and they would be actively searching for him. He felt dizzy with excitement. It would be dark soon, which meant she’d be staying the night and Jared had at least until morning to contact her.
Dear God, he might be free in a few days.
Chapter Ten
Lila
All through dinner, I had the strangest feeling: a tingle at the back of my neck and an uneasiness that didn’t feel like anything to do with our hosts. Marc accepted my claim of tiredness and escorted me back to our guest room, waiting for me as I lingered in the dining hall. “I can’t explain,” I murmured to him. “It’s as though somebody is watching me. I must be more tired than I thought.” I let my gaze drift over the assembled household. The faint hope of seeing Jared or Flavius, or anyone I might know, remained. Apart from the slave at the main table, nobody paid me any attention.
Something nagged at me, digging at my subconscious but staying elusive and just out of reach. No matter, it would come back to me later.
Uncomfortable in my clothes and more so at the thought of being without them, I compromised and removed the linen headdress and the woolen outer gown. I sighed in relief to have the weight gone from my shoulders and lay down on the bed.
The lamplight wavered, clothing rustled, and the bed creaked heavily as Marc sat beside me. I turned my head to him.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’ll not try to take advantage of you.”
I gave a small, relieved puff of laughter. “Okay.” He’d been kind and strong so far, gentle and calming. I could trust him, as far as I trusted anyone these days. His presence reassured me and I’d found I liked his company. He’d held me in his arms, wiped my tears, stroked my back, and massaged my shoulders. He’d been attentive at dinner, feeding me the tastiest morsels and sweeping me along on a tide of light, frivolous conversation. The perfect, genial partner. Then he’d taken my arm and gazed at me, as though seeing me for the first time, raw pleasure flashing across his eyes and a smile tugging at his lips.
There was too much in my head to allow me to sleep at the moment. Thoughts of Jared. Memories of last time. I rolled onto my side and peered at Marc sitting up in bed. “Why did you train to be a ghardian?”
His eyebrows lifted and he ran a hand through his hair. “I believe in justice, which is why I became a soldier. But I trained as a ghardian because I wanted to specialize in time jumping.” His hand strayed down to tug at his beard in a brief, uncomfortable gesture. “I grew up when the jump process was being developed and, right from my earliest memories, I wanted to try it. I learned all about the runaways and how their selfish actions can jeopardize the timelines. I like fixing mistakes, I guess.” Dark eyes smiled down at me. “So, why did you become a historian? And why this period?”
“The official answer is that my family group were all trained as historians. Between them, they manage and administer archives around the world. But like you,” I found an answering smile of my own, “I was hooked on the idea of jumping.”
“And this period?”
“This period, the Dark Ages, is one of the least-known eras in our Archive. If I’m going to be a historian, I want to have a specialty, to make a name for myself.”
“Ambitious.”
My cheeks warmed. “A little.”
His hand shifted away from his beard and dropped to rest on the pile of fine wool blankets. I wondered how it would feel to slip my hand in his, as I’d done with Jared. Would he be shocked? Annoyed? Or just plain embarrassed? I cast around for something useful to say. “What do you suggest we do next?”
“After a good night’s sleep?” He was teasing me. “Our best option might be to talk to the servants and slaves.”
“The non-Saxons. You know, it was the oddest thing.” I pushed myself to a sitting position, my brain racing ahead while I tried to formulate the right words. “There was a slave watching me at dinner.”
Marc shrugged, waited for me to elaborate.
“Well, don’t you see? They keep their eyes down. They’re not allowed to look at the free men, but he stared at me. Openly.” Though I hadn’t been able to see his eyes, there was something about him, the tilt of his chin, a hint of pride in his stance, all achingly familiar.
“Marc,” I murmured, as a new possibility blinded me. “What if Jared was taken as a slave?”
Chapter Eleven
Jared
As soon as Hilde was settled for the night, he’d try to find Lila. No matter that he’d be beaten if he were caught sneaking around. Freedom now lay tantalizingly close. He could practically taste his escape. My name is Jared, and I will soon be free. He often ran errands for Hilde. If he were caught, he’d use that as an excuse.
At least she didn’t want sex again that night. Tired from a heavy dinner, she wanted Jared to bathe and oil her feet, and then brush her hair, before she finally settled in bed. He stood waiting to be released, trying to rein back his impatience, concentrating on keeping still and giving nothing away. All the while thinking of Lila.
He’d not known for certain that she’d made it to the jump site. He only knew that sending her with the soldiers had been her best chance. The messenger for Flavius had brought devastating news—the village had been burned to the ground. Jared didn’t care what the Archives said. The raid might have been insignificant, from an Archivist’s perspective, but it was vital to him. The innkeeper and his heavily pregnant wife. The children that played around the smithy. Flavius’ younger brother. All gone.
In that danger filled, terrifying moment, one thing had taken priority: getting Lila to safety.
She’d had a damaged ankle, couldn’t ride fast enough, and the Saxons would catch her. The Romans had been a blessing. He’d wanted to fall at their feet and thank them, while handing over his purse and begging them to take his sister. When Flavius charged back to the village fuelled by grief and fury, it would be a suicide raid, but one that might buy Lila some more time.
He should have expected her to argue with him. That was one of the things he loved about her, after all: that she constantly challenged him. It’d been hard enough trying to break her heart, to make her go willingly. Firing the stunner into her arm and seeing the stark bewilderment on her beautiful face had come close to breaking him. After that, for a while, he hadn’t cared if he lived or died. Fighting the Saxons, being captured, watching the group of rebels being executed…he’d been next to go and he’d been fine with that. By a fluke of nature, they’d spared him. His odd colored eyes, looked down upon in his own time, had saved his life when the young Saxon had claimed him: “A prize for my grandmother. This can be her new wolf.”
Hilde regarded him through half-closed eyes. “You can go now, boy.”
“Mistress.” He inclined his head, already turning on his heel, eager to be away. Her hand shot out and grasped him tight around his wrist, the fingernails digging in like claws.
“And, Wolf, I’ve heard rumours I don’t like.” He stood completely still, not daring even to breathe in case she saw the suppressed excitement on his face. Had Lila been asking questions about him? Did Hilde know they would be rescuing him? He waited, unable to do anything else.
“I’ve heard Rowena has showed an interest in you. Is this true?”
Fuck. Damned if he said anything, damned if he didn’t. He licked his lips and tried to think of a diplomatic answer. “If this happened, mistress, how would you have me respond?”