The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(146)

She felt something brush her shoulder, like a gentle hand, comforting her. Her head whipped around, her heart hammering wildly—and all she saw was the branch of an apple tree, laden with growing apples, bowing under the weight far enough to touch her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her heart. She was being silly.

“So…” she mumbled, still out of breath, looking hopefully at the flickering candle. “What do you think I should do?”

And she knew what Isenbard would have said. He would have said that she had to find the answer herself. Only then would it be worth anything.

Again, a sad smile appeared on her lips.

“Thank you, Uncle Ironbeard,” she whispered. “Thank you for being there for me, always.”

She rose and, without another word, left the orchard. Behind her, the birds began to sing.

~~*~~*

Ayla found Reuben in the outer courtyard, where he was putting another shift of guards through their paces. A tiny part of her was actually relieved to see his legs hadn't grown furry during the night.

“Faster!” he bellowed. “If an enemy came at you, the only thing that they might die of is laughing at your miserable performance! Faster, I said! Faster! You there! Shoot straight, or I'll come over and give you a personal lesson, with you as the target! Oh, good morning.”

The last three words, directed at Ayla, thankfully were not uttered in the same kind of commander-roar that he used on his soldiers. Ayla thought her ears might not have survived the assault.

“Um, good morning to you, too.” She gave him and the panting soldiers a timid smile. “I can see you're quite busy.”

Reuben waved a hand deprecatingly. “Oh, it's nothing really. I'm just helping them to concentrate on their work.”

Ayla thought that the soldiers might have phrased it slightly differently but held her tongue. Instead, she sidled up to Reuben, taking his hand and putting her head on his shoulder.

“Would you like to come for a ride with me?” she asked. “It's such a beautiful morning.”

“Well…I don't know. I really should continue…”

“Please?” Softly, she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and could feel him stiffen. She had to work hard to suppress a grin. Instead, she fluttered her eyelashes at him. “I know you said it's safe out there by now, but I still would feel frightened, and I want to go riding so much. Please come with me.”

“Well, if it's a matter of your being safe…that's different.”

“Really?” She gave him a shy smile. “You'd really come?”

“Yes. Just wait a moment while I give Captain Linhart my instructions.”

A few minutes later, Reuben returned and began saddling his horse. As Ayla looked back towards the practicing men, she saw them throwing grateful looks at her. She winked and smiled.

As soon as she and Reuben were in the saddle and riding towards the gates, though, her good mood vanished, and her preoccupation with what was coming returned in full force. Looking over, Reuben must have noticed a frown on her face, for a moment later, he asked,“I know that face. Something is up. This isn't just a ride for pleasure, is it?”

Ayla bit her lip. He was really getting to know her well, judging from the way he could read her expressions. That both pleased and frightened her.

Slowly, she shook her head. “No, Reuben. It’s more than that.”

“Then why are we riding out?” he inquired as they passed under the raised portcullis. “There aren't any more goods for us to inspect at the camp, are there?”

“No.” Ayla shook her head again, trying to keep her voice calm and steady. “I just wanted to get out of the castle for a while and find a place where we can be alone. We need to talk.”





Helpful Horse Romance

Reuben watched Ayla in silence as they rode out of the castle gates. The beautiful valley of Luntberg lay beneath them: a velvet cloak of forest, slowly taking on the colors of autumn, wrapped around a beautiful river which glittered in the light of the sun. Reuben hardly saw any of it. His eyes were fixed on the girl that rode beside him.

He knew very well what she was going to ask. What he did not know was whether he was going to give her an answer.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, and it all came back in a storm of images: the cheering crowd, the rush of speed, the splinter of wood, the screams, the pain. Unimaginable pain. Once, just once, and then never again. He remembered getting up. He did not remember staggering through the dark, from where the dead were kept to where the living vultures were yelling, arguing over scraps. But he remembered their faces when he came in. Over all the years, this memory alone had given him satisfaction: the horror on their faces as they realized their mistake. Especially in her face. How the wench had paled at his sight! Ah, how joyful it had been after being betrayed, that he was now the terror of those who had forsaken him.

Now, though, that memory no longer gave him joy.

He opened his eyes and looked at Ayla again. What if she would look at him with the same expression of terror on her face? Well, that was unlikely. He knew her by now, and knew she wasn't likely to be terrified. If he told her the truth about himself, she wouldn’t run away screaming. She might call her soldiers and have him thrown into the dungeon or burnt at the stake, but she wouldn't run or scream.