Chapter XLV - Decision

Hey Everyone!

Michelle: I can understand what you're saying about Tancred being over-protective. He is being so. But I think his reasons for being that way are perhaps more logical then you might think. (And, having an older brother of my own--Charissa has a few good ones too, though she is older than they--I was able to write Tancred's emotions in a way I think is pretty believable.) He has not seen Kristalyn for well over a year now. He is safe, but has no indication that she is truly safe herself, despite Egan's message. He has heard tidbits from said pseudo-dragon that makes him believe Kris is in the company of an as-of-yet unnamed male, which really is frustrating Tray. All in all, I think that if you break it down, he's reacting in a normal way considering the circumstances over the last year+ with him and his family. Oh, and sorry if the story is dragging! There is definitely a lot I'm am trying to finish up.

Libby: so glad you enjoyed the last chapter! Yeah, EVERYONE seems to love Egan. He's developed into quite the character, for sure! Even though the truth won't come out this chapter between Zoe and Tancred, two other characters do learn some interesting relational tidbits at the beginning of the chapter posted below. Hopefully you be satisfied with that conclusion of a part of the story. :-)

Kim: thank you very much! I am glad you enjoyed Egan too. And the wait for the next chapter is over so, please let me know what you think of this next one.

Twin: YAY! You read it all! I'm so glad you caught up on it, now I can talk to you all about the new stuff when you come over this weekend. I'm glad you liked some of my lines between Tray and Zoe. They are so much fun to write. (And annoying, as Charissa has I'm sure related to you with many laughs over my demise...) I love you too! Can't wait to see you in THREE DAYS!!! *hug*

Ashley: haha, thanks for your fun comment! Please let me know what you think of this next one too! I love reading your comments. Honest opinion now, remember!

Anonymous: yeah, Egan and I have a pretty good relationship going too... :-)

Now, without further ado, the new chapter of Zoe. Enjoy!

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Brysa stood at the top of the lone tower of the palace in Ruma, which was positioned at the castle’s northwestern corner. It had no roof; merely an encircling stone wall that came to her waist. There was no guard, and that pleased her. She had sought the isolated place with the intention of being alone.

The sun was setting, casting a reddish glow across the city. Beyond the rows and rows of rooftops, and the gray outer city wall, she could just barely see the plains to the north—long and flat with small copses of trees scattered at random. A wind, cool but insistent, blew around Brysa, ruffling the hem of her fur-lined cloak and the fringe of the thick braid that hung down her back. Little wisps of black hair framed her face, and she felt the weight of her crown, which she slowly was becoming accustomed to, where the heavy band encircled her temples. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

It had been a week since Zoe, the Hunter, and the Aerilyan contingent left Elangsia. Thankfully it had been a busy week, so Brysa had scarcely had time to mourn their departure. As of yet she had not traveled very far outside of Ruma’s walls yet, though just two days before she had personally ridden out to the small, northern village of Ranev, accompanied by a heavy guard and Garrick Jaeger.

The villagers had greeted her cautiously. They still were not sure what to expect from their new ruler. Some had been angry, having lost their slaves due to her edict within the last two weeks. Brysa had ordered the dissenters to be publicly disciplined, something which her men carried out with gusto. Most of the villagers had warmed to her, however, and she had received a friendly farewell when she mounted her palfrey and rode back toward Ruma. She was hopefully than her later visits to other villages would be as successful.

It was difficult to strike a balance between harshly punishing wrongdoers, like the disgruntled ex-slave holders of Ranev, and being ever soft and kindhearted to her people. She could not appear either as a cruel dictatress or a meek pushover. Deep within her she wanted to see Elangsia built up and flourishing anew. This desire alternately provoked her anger when she came across people who did not share her lofty vision, and exhilaration when she met those who did.

She had wised up over the last week. Some of those lords and councilmen whom she thought would encourage her vision for a new Elangsia had scorned her and withdrawn their support. Alternately, some of those whom she doubted would ever see eye-to-eye with her seemed to understand her very heartbeat and pledged their allegiance to her.

“Enjoying the view?”

A smile flitted across Brysa’s face at the familiar masculine voice. Garrick Jaeger was a perfect example of the latter: a man whom she naturally assumed would not support her ideas and dreams, but who had proven her completely wrong and stood by her every decision in the last week.

She turned and met Garrick’s eyes. “Hello,” she greeted him softly.

Not for the first time she thought how handsome he looked; his earthy green tunic made him seem human, while the unadorned yet still noticeable crown on his head asserted his royal status. Brysa reached up and brushed several wayward strands of hair out of her face. “And, yes, the view is absolutely breathtaking.” She cocked her head. “I didn’t even hear you coming up.”

He smiled as he walked over beside her. He gazed out over the city, the fiery light washing over his face, and did not look at her when he responded, “I don’t like to let everyone know where I am all the time. But, it seems that even after a week and a half of being queen, you have learned solitude is a precious commodity not easily attained.”

She also turned and joined him in looking over the city, though her attention was not on the beauty of the sunset any longer. “Yes I have. I thought it was bad when I was just the princess, but I never realized how sheltered I really was.” A slight frown crossed her face as she added in a low voice, “Of course, I was even more sheltered than most, thanks to my father.”

Garrick turned, leaned a hip against the stone wall, and looked at her thoughtfully. “He was domineering and cruel. No honorable man would pledge his daughter to a life that would only produce heartache and pain.”

Brysa shivered. “Jaquin was a beast,” she muttered, wrapping her arms tightly around her midsection. After a short pause, she continued speaking, telling Garrick something she had planned to never share with anyone else. “I was going to kill myself before we were wedded, to save myself from marriage to him.”

A long pause followed. When she risked looking up at Garrick again, she was met with his steady brown gaze, which held no incrimination in them. His next question was uttered in a calm voice: “What stopped you?”

“Deus.” She took a deep breath and squinted as the sun cast its last very bright rays across Elangsia. “Without Him I would have given up.”

Companionable silence fell over them. The sunlight gradually dispersed and was replaced by blue-gray dusk. The wind still blew, tousling Brysa’s loose hair strands and chilling her exposed skin.

Finally Garrick spoke. “The task of finding and freeing the Aerilyan slaves will go on for a long time. You have made a great deal of progress this last week, but there are many slavers who will continue their vile trade.”

“Yes,” she murmured. “Already I foresee that eliminating slave trafficking will be my primary challenge now that I’ve assumed the throne. The traders hate me and what I’ve done.”

“Darkness cannot abide with light. The slavers and their kind are repulsed by the good you are bringing to the land.”

“There is so much to do, to repair. Not just the ties that have been broken between Elangsia and Aerilya, but the mistrust that fairly radiates from within this country. Backbiting and betrayal are normal here, among nobility and peasantry alike. I have my work cut out for me.” She paused, considered how her last sentence had sounded, and quickly added, “I am not afraid of what will come.”

Garrick’s mouth quirked up into a small smile as he met her half-defiant gaze. “I can truthfully say that I have never feared that you lack courage, Brysa. You are stronger than most people—yourself included—give you credit for.”

She simply stared at him, quieted by his straightforward statement.

“Now, as I was saying, stopping the slave traders will take a long time, perhaps even years. I stayed in Ruma with the intention of finding and stopping those traders, as many as I could at least, in a month. However, the length of time—”

“Garrick, wait,” she interrupted, seeing where he was taking the conversation. “Please, feel no obligation to me or my country. We appreciate everything you have done, but there is no need for you to remain indefinitely.” The words were harder to say that she thought they would be, but she kept talking in a quick, level voice. “You are more than free to leave whenever you wish to. I would not keep you from your country any longer than you wish.”

He laughed softly and shook his head. “Brysa, hold on. You’re rushing ahead too fast.” He turned so that he was facing her fully and asked, “Are you really that eager to get rid of me?”

“No!” she said defensively. Her brow furrowed a little and she added, “I merely wanted to let you know that you are under no obligation to us. It was your decision to stay here and we all appreciate it but—”

“Brysa!” Garrick’s firm voice stopped her cold, and she took a deep, steadying breath. She had also turned and was facing him. The wind gusted behind her and tendrils of her hair blew wildly forward and into her face.

“You’re not listening to me,” he told her after a moment. “I did not come here to inform you that I’m leaving Elangsia. I’m not a man who will dump a problem, especially such a large one as the elimination of the slave trade is, into somebody else’s lap and leave.” His eyes connected with her blue gaze. “I’m not going to leave you to fight this alone.”

Disbelief flooded Brysa, along with an elusive spurt of warmth that touched her heart. She stood straight and remained cool, unable to take in Garrick’s words. He wanted to stay? To help her fight the slavers? He wasn’t going to just leave? She said nothing for a long time as she just looked up at Garrick with eyes narrowed and lips tight. She tasted a strand of hair that had blown into her mouth before she closed it, but did not reach up to pull it out.

Garrick did, however. His fingers brushed her cold cheeks as he gently pulled the hair away from her face. Then to her surprise, instead of dropping his hands, Garrick’s palms cupped her cheeks and did not move. A jolt raced down her spine at his touch, thrilling her senses.

“Why do you doubt my promise?” he asked quietly. “I’ll not leave you.”

Brysa’s eyes closed, and her heart clenched. “Garrick, so many people have abandoned me and broken their promises,” she whispered. She turned her face aside and felt his hands drop away. “It’s almost impossible to trust another.”

“Look at me.” Garrick’s tone was grave and insistent, and she obeyed after only the slightest hesitation. “Listen closely. As Deus is my witness and on my word of honor, I will not break my oath to you, Brysa Alustate. And I swear today that I will not leave you to fight the injustice that plagues our lands by yourself. You will never be alone.”

A glistening tear broke free from Brysa’s inner restraints and trailed down her cheek. She could feel more swimming in her eyes, ready to spill out in a torrent of emotion, but by some miracle she restrained them. Her throat was tight. She had never heard anyone pledge their support and devotion to her in such a powerful way, and she hardly knew what to do now.

“Garrick...” she finally choked out, “th-thank you. I don’t know what—”

Her words were cut off as he lowered his head without warning and touched his lips to hers. His left arm was wrapped around her, holding her gently in place, and his right hand came up and rested against her cheek. Their kiss was over almost too quickly for Brysa to realize what was happening; the next thing she knew, she was staring up at Garrick with wide, startled eyes.

He grinned faintly, but his gaze was serious. “Do you believe me now?”

“Uh...” she blinked, still feeling dazed. He was still holding her close and she found it difficult to concentrate. “I think so. Yes.”

“Good. Because I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon,” he told her, still smiling a little.

At that moment, Brysa realized that he spoke truthfully. He means it. He really does. He would stay and help her. Aerilya was his homeland, but he would not return there while she still required his aid. The gallantry and selflessness of his commitment was almost beyond belief.

She slipped her hands up and laced them behind his neck, struggling to keep them from trembling. The moon was rising and its light illuminated Garrick’s face. Brysa’s heart beat quickly as she gazed up at him with soulful intensity and whispered, “Thank you. Should I live to be a thousand, I would never forget your kindness.”

“That is well, for I neither could I ever forget your courageous heart and spirit, lady,” he murmured in reply. “You are a treasure of unspeakable worth.”

And as the winds blew and the moon beamed and the stars danced high above, Garrick Jaeger of Aerilya kissed Brysa Alustate of Elangsia as they both stood atop the highest tower in Ruma.

Brysa felt the coldness in her heart melt. The winter of her soul and its accompanying darkness passed away and made way for the arrival of warm, fresh spring. The song that erupted from deep within her refused to be silenced, and she thought she could never know more joy.

She laid her head on Garrick’s chest and relished the feeling of her hand enclosed in his. Her crown pressed against her temples but she welcomed its weight and the responsibility it signified. She was ready now. For after all the storms, all the pain, all the turmoil—Deus had given her above and beyond anything she ever could have ever thought to ask for. In the face of such blessing, all Brysa could feel unutterable thankfulness to the Creator God. She had given Him her heart, and now He gave it back to her: whole and restored. Thank you, Father.

Garrick pulled her closer and pressed a kiss into her wind-tossed hair. A smile curved her lips and Brysa felt peace flood every part of her.

Thank You with all that is within me.

è è è è è è è è è

“You’re sure?”

Zoe looked up at Lady Shyla Ralyn from where she sat, fingering the edge of her gray-green tunic. It was two days since the two of them had arrived in Bryndor, Aerilya’s capital. Now they were both seated on a bench in one of Trildur’s quiet halls. “Yes,” she replied at length. “It’s what I need to do.”

Shyla appraised her with her calm blue-gray gaze. “You care for this Grace a great deal, don’t you?” she asked softly.

“I would give my life for that little girl.”

“Your devotion is incredible, especially since in my understanding of the situation, you never spent much time with her.”

“Only a week,” Zoe sighed. “She must look so much older now.”

“Tell me about her.”

Zoe stared down at the stone floor, trying to assimilate a picture of Grace in her mind and describe her to Shyla. “She’s eleven or so by now; she has this gorgeous curly brown hair and huge brown eyes. Her parents were killed by Elangsians. Her older sister is named Riana; she’s married and lives in Bristol. Jaedon took Grace back there before he joined you prior to the battle.”

Shyla’s eyes grew sad at the mention of Jaedon, but she said nothing about him. “Do you know the way to Bristol?”

“I looked on a map earlier this afternoon that a servant was kind enough to get for me.”

Shyla sighed deeply and said nothing. Zoe risked a glance up at the lady. Shyla’s hair was worn loose for once, and looked like a shining silver and golden waterfall cascading over her shoulders and back. She was clad in a cream-colored gown with a pale blue kirtle over it that brought out the vibrant color of her eyes. How does she manage to pull off such poised elegance not even two weeks after she was helping run a war camp? wondered Zoe. Zoe herself was dressed in her old clothes once more: trousers, tunic, and worn leather boots. Her pouch hung from her belt, and the gray cloak—that gift from Tancred so long ago—rested on her lap.

Shyla met Zoe’s eyes. “Have you told Tancred yet?”

Zoe swallowed. Not trusting herself to speak, she merely shook her head. No, she had not told Tancred. And she really wasn’t sure how to go about doing that when the time came.

“You must tell him before you go. You know that, don’t you?” Shyla’s question was gentle but firm.

“Yes,” Zoe murmured. I don’t want to. I’d rather slip away unnoticed. She had been successful enough in avoiding him the last two days, after all, and she was sure it had spared her a world of trouble.

“If you left without telling him, it would be a cruel blow,” added Tancred’s mother in the same soft voice.

Zoe smiled weakly. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

“I didn’t. I merely judged by how you’ve acted in the past.”

“I usually leave without letting anybody know?”

“No, you usually leave without letting Tancred know.”

Zoe’s jaw clenched and she jerked her eyes from Shyla’s shrewd gaze. “I will tell him,” she managed to get out in a low voice. “I won’t leave before I see him.”

Shyla’s gaze remained heavy on Zoe, though Zoe continued avoiding it. “Tell me, Zoe,” she said in a kind tone, “are you leaving Trildur so suddenly in order to find young Grace...or to flee from something else?”

Apprehension tightened around Zoe’s chest like bands of iron. She knows! She knows of my feelings for Tancred. Striving for calm, Zoe managed to meet Shyla’s eyes and replied, “What do you mean?”

“I think you know, Zoe.”

“I am going to find Grace and to give myself some closure on her behalf. That is all.”

The words seemed wooden and false even in Zoe’s ears. The truth was, after her conversation with Egan two days earlier, Zoe had made the quick decision to leave Trildur in search of Grace as soon as she could get away. Her rationale for the sudden departure might hold up to scrutiny by others, but deep down, Zoe knew the real reason she was leaving was indeed Tancred, and Tancred alone. Maybe after being on her own again, taking a journey by herself, just her and Brac, she would forget these strange feelings she had for the Hunter, and life could resume as usual.

Either Shyla did not see through Zoe’s ambiguity or she did not want to contend the point. She merely said, “Then may your journey be successful,” and leaned forward to wrap her arms around Zoe in a warm embrace.

Zoe did not hesitate, but returned the hug with a sort of desperate emotion. It was a farewell hug; a farewell to the life she might have had once. Her eyes clenched shut. Sorrow clogged Zoe’s throat, but she valiantly pushed it down as she drew back and offered a brave smile to Shyla.

The lady smiled back, but tears glittered in her eyes as Zoe rose to her feet. “I will pray that Deus guides you,” she told Zoe. “May His face shine upon you and give you peace.”

“Thank you,” Zoe whispered. She flung the cloak over her shoulders and reached down for the leather bag she had packed earlier, and her sword and daggers. Her eyes locked with Shyla’s again, just before Zoe turned away and strode down the hall. “Goodbye, Shyla.”

è è è è è è è è è

Trildur’s private stable was deserted when Zoe entered it ten minutes after her parting with Shyla. The floor, which was paved with large, irregularly-shaped stone slabs, was dusted with dirt and stray pieces of straw. Brac was waiting for her, his head leaning out over the thick wooden bar that blocked the entrance to his stall. He whinnied, his breath frosting in the cool air. Zoe smiled a little at him but could not muster up a cheerful greeting. She let herself into his stall, carrying his old saddle and bridle over her left arm.

“You ready to go on another journey?” Zoe whispered in her stallion’s ear as she slipped the bridle over his ears and he eagerly rolled the bit around in his mouth.

She threw a saddle blanket over his back and smoothed it down. Her movements were instinctive and without hesitation, but still there was a sort of sad heaviness that hung over her and slowed her down. This scene; this scenario in the stable with Brac, saddling up to depart: it seemed familiar. Why?

Zoe lifted the saddle, placed it on his broad back, and tightened the girth. And then, as she finished buckling the leather straps and looping Brac’s knotted reins over his head, realization hit: her departure now felt eerily like the day she had left Braedoch. Then, Aiden had helped her get Brac ready to go; they had been in the stable together, talking little and holding back their emotions with some type of extraordinary strength. Zoe’s emotions now were strangely similar to the ones she had felt when she mounted Brac two and a half years earlier and left Braedoch.

Exhaling hard, Zoe kept a tight hold on Brac’s reins and leaned her head forward against her horse’s shoulder. Her dark auburn hair was tied back with a leather strap at the nape of her neck, but strands had escaped and now rested against Brac’s fuzzy, reddish-brown coat. His black mane tickled her cheeks as he swung his head around and bumped her left hip with his nose, obviously concerned for her.

C’mon Zoe. It’ll be okay. You’ll be fine. This isn’t like the day you left Braedoch. You’re not an untried eighteen-year-old anymore. You’re twenty years old, battle-hardened, and much more experienced. You serve Deus now. You can do this.

Yes. She took strength from her inner pep talk and inhaled slowly, drawing in the calming horse-scent that wafted up from Brac’s coat. It was time. She had to find Tancred first, but then she would leave. After finding Grace and seeing to it that she was taken care of and safe, it would be over. She could depart Aerilya, perhaps travel back up into the mountains; find a new land to explore.... Her eyes clenched shut and she fought back a wave of despair. Why did that all sound so empty? Just over a year ago it was enough for her.

Brac nickered. A rustle of straw came from her left. Zoe raised her head and opened her eyes, dully staring over Brac’s withers at the stall wall.

“Running again?”

Slowly, she turned to face Tancred. He stood at the door, clad in a smoky blue tunic and dark brown trousers. His arms were crossed over his chest. A long cloak hung down from his shoulders, simply cut but adorned with tasteful embroidery that spoke of his status as a lord and knight of Aerilya. He had now officially stepped into his father’s position as Lord Ralyn, and King Jaeger had knighted him the day before. Sir Tancred Ralyn. It fit him.

She cleared her throat. “Not running,” she contradicted. “Just leaving.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to find Grace. I haven’t seen her since we were separated and wanted to make sure all is well with her.”

“Bristol is two days from here. You know the way?”

“Of course. I did look at a map,” she said a little defensively.

His mouth quirked faintly, as if into a smile, but almost immediately turned reverted to an even slash across his face. “Excuse me. It’s not often your habit to plan ahead, so I thought I’d better check.”

She said nothing.

“You were also going to slip off without notifying anyone, weren’t you,” he stated coolly. “Very Zoe-esque.”

She stiffened. “I wasn’t going to leave without first saying my farewells.”

“Oh, so you’re spoken with Warrick, Geoffrey, Richard, and the rest?”

His tone was incriminating, and rightly so. Zoe forced herself to remain brave and softly replied, “I spoke with them all yesterday and the day before. They know I’m safe and was glad to see them again.”

“Yet you don’t even honor them with a simple goodbye.” His tone was a mixture of cynicism and reproof. “Unless, of course, you’re planning to return soon.”

Judging by the sarcastic strain in Tancred’s voice, Zoe knew he was well aware she wasn’t planning on coming back. Ever. Her eyes burned but she allowed no tears to fall.

He stepped forward, his arms falling to hang at his sides. “Why?” he finally asked again, huskily.

“I cannot stay here forever,” she whispered.

“Did Deus tell you that?”

She closed her eyes and clenched Brac’s reins tighter. “Tancred, I don’t want to turn this into an interrogation or a fight. I promised your mother I wouldn’t go without bidding you goodbye. I’m trying to do that but you’re making it rather difficult!”

“I’m not one to let you walk away without giving a fight.”

“Why do we need to fight?” she demanded, opening her eyes and staring incredulously at him.

His brows arched and mocking amusement glinted in his eyes. “Now this is a first: Zoe does not want to fight, while Tancred is more than willing. Whatever shall we do?”

“Just let me pass, Tancred,” she said in an unsteady voice, tugging Brac forward.

Tancred stepped aside at the last second, allowing Zoe and the stallion to pass through the stall opening. She checked the bridle straps and Brac’s bit to make sure it was comfortably positioned, and then began to lead her horse from the stable. To her frustration, Tancred fell in step with her, following her like a shadow.

Pale sunlight spilled down into the courtyard in front of the royal stables. Zoe shrugged out of her pack and was about to fling it over Brac’s back when Tancred grabbed it from her and strapped it on behind her saddle without a word. Her sword was next; after she unbuckled it, he silently lashed it on over the pack. His movements were quick and tense, revealing the amount of emotion he was restraining. She wondered what he wanted to say to her; what he was thinking.

His quiet help when separation was so imminent brought a huge lump to Zoe’s throat that she fought with desperation. No matter what she told herself, this situation was too much like when she left Braedoch. She well remembered Aiden’s sure movements as he helped strap her supplies unto Brac’s back so long ago. Of all her siblings, her separation from Aiden had been the hardest. It had taken all the strength within her to ride away from him without looking back. And now, she faced another parting that was just as painful.

No. She blinked, her hand resting on Brac’s neck and her face averted. Not as painful...

More painful.

Tancred’s hand touched her shoulder, then his other reached around and raised her chin, turning her face toward his. The cool anger that had marked his face in the stable had disappeared, leaving behind only brutal honesty.

“If you must go, then go,” he said in a too quiet voice. “I will not keep you if Deus truly calls you away.”

That’s just it, she thought. Is this Deus calling me? Or is it just me leaving, trying to escape?

As if he could read her thoughts, Tancred continued. “But whatever you say or do or think, I know a truth that will not diminish over time. No matter where you run, you cannot run from your destiny.” He stared down into her eyes, intensity smoldering in his dark blue gaze. “What has Deus told you in your heart? What vision has He placed in your mind?”

One single tear overflowed and trailed down her cheek. Why does he have to make this so much harder? Her heart ached at the thought of leaving this man. And yet, she could not fathom staying. Loving somebody opened too many doors for pain and agony to enter. She could not live through that again. She could not. No matter how much it hurt to leave now, that pain was nothing compared to what she would feel if she allowed herself to love—and then lost everything.

“I don’t know, Tancred,” she replied honestly to his question, her voice raspy with suppressed emotion.

“Turn your ear to Him and listen.”

“I’ve tried.”

“Have you really? Are you hearing what He’s telling you? Or are you pushing away reality because you’re afraid?”

He was far too close to the truth. Zoe stared at him through a shimmering veil of unshed tears. “Don’t do this, Tancred.”

“Do what? Make your departure hard on you?” He chuckled without humor. “Zoe, if you think I want you to leave, you’re sorely mistaken. But neither would I want to keep you here if Deus truly is calling you away. What I want to know is if I must let you go now...or fight for you to stay.”

“You wouldn’t win this fight.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

Mute, she just shook her head. Her mind was full of words that she would never utter. Don’t fight me. Don’t fight me. I have to go. I have to get away from you, and the things you do to me. I don’t want my heart ripped out again, and leaving you is the only way to avoid that reality!

Tancred appraised her, looking more rugged and strong than Zoe had ever remembered him to be. Unlike her confident words of a moment before, Zoe very much doubted she would win if he threw down the gauntlet and demanded that they battle this out. She took a deep breath, knowing she couldn’t let that happen.

“I have to go, Tancred.”

He stepped closer, much closer than she was comfortable with. His hands were suddenly at her waist, keeping her from pulling away, and his head came down. She felt dizzy for a moment, wondering what was happening. Her chin tipped up and she felt the strangest pull toward him...

Then her feet left the ground as Tancred set her in Brac’s saddle. Off kilter, Zoe grabbed at the saddle convulsively, trying to regain her balance and retain her seat. A little breathless, she looked down at him as she flung her right leg over the saddle-horn and gathered up the reins.

“I guess this is goodbye, then,” she said, recovering her wits as quickly as possible. It was hard to do so, especially since his hand was resting on her left knee, just above the top of her boot, sending tingles up and down her whole body.

“Perhaps,” he said in a low timbre that drove shivers down her spine. “You will be sorely missed by everyone here, Zoe.”

You too, Tancred? Will you miss me?

“And remember this well,” he continued in the same resolute, quiet voice. “Wherever you go and whatever task Deus gives you, Zoe Romany, know that I will be watching and remembering.”

Watching and remembering? I know he’ll remember me—I’ll remember him too, I couldn’t forget him in a thousand lifetimes—but he’ll be ‘watching’? Watching for what? My return? It didn’t make sense, but Zoe didn’t stop to analyze it. She had to leave before she lost her nerve. “Fine,” she replied in a brusque tone she didn’t inwardly feel.

Lifting her chin, she wheeled Brac around. This was it. Time to leave.

Just before urging her stallion out of the stable courtyard, she looked over her shoulder and met the Hunter’s burning gaze. Her heart throbbed. “Goodbye,” she whispered in a voice that threatened to crack.

Then she touched her heels to Brac’s sides and he burst forward into a quick canter. They pounded out beneath the portcullis without slowing, maiden and steed appearing as one: strong, united, and proud. Anyone who saw them ride out of Bryndor would have said the bay stallion’s rider was a young woman who possessed an undaunted spirit, judging by the proud tilt of her head and the confident set of her shoulders.

But it was all a facade, hiding the reality of Zoe’s heart and mind. The only thing that hinted of this incongruity, this inconsistence of outward appearance and inward torment, were the glistening, almost invisible tears that poured out of her murky green eyes in a silent display of agony.

And for once, Zoe did not try to stop them.