My Lady Jane(109)

“Show-off,” Gifford said from the other side of the cloak curtain. “You’re probably keeping our neighbors awake with that light.”

She just wished G would want it, too. He’d be much more useful in the morning in his human form. And there were so many other reasons that she wanted him to be with her tomorrow.

Jane turned into a ferret and ran up his leg and side until she perched on his shoulder.

Gifford stroked her fur. “Nicely done, my dear. Now can we go to sleep?”

She considered asking him to practice, too. But if he wanted to, he would suggest it. He would try. But since he didn’t offer to try, she became a girl again, dressed, and together they squeezed onto the narrow sleeping pallet.

“This is nice,” G said against her hair, pulling her back against his chest. “Thank you for not making me sleep on the floor.”

“You’re welcome,” she murmured. It was more than nice, she thought as she closed her eyes and tried to quiet her mind. She’d go to bed like this every night, if she could. But this could be their last night together.

It was starting to feel terribly familiar, this feeling that tomorrow they could die.

The sounds of birds singing woke her a few hours later. She stretched her arms and wiggled her toes; she was still a girl.

“Did you sleep?” Gifford’s voice behind her was deep and groggy.

Jane nodded and pulled herself out of their makeshift bed. “Not well, but it was better than nothing.” In truth, she’d tossed and turned for hours. There was much riding on her today.

Gifford sat up and smoothed back his hair. “I didn’t sleep. I kept thinking about you breaking your curse.”

Jane looked over at him, hopeful.

“Your heart’s desire, you said.” He rose to his feet, his clothes all sleep-tousled and a pressure mark running the length of his face. He was beautiful, she thought, if one could call a man beautiful. There was a question in his eyes, and she knew the answer.

“Gifford, I—” The word balanced on her tongue. Was it so difficult to say? It couldn’t be wrong. The feeling had been gathering in her since those days in the country house, growing and deepening ever since. And now that she knew the secret to controlling her form, they could actually have a future together.

She desperately wanted a future together.

“Jane.” He glanced at the tent flap. “It’s almost time. The sun.”

“Don’t change,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”

“I want to, but—” He began tugging at his clothes, loosening his shirt collar and picking at the buttons.

“Don’t change!” Jane went to him and took his shoulder, like her touch could break his curse. “Want to stay with me more than you want to do anything else.”

“I’m sorry, Jane. I wish—”

She grabbed his face and kissed him, shoving her fingers through his hair to draw him closer. “Stay with me,” she pleaded against his lips. “Don’t change.”

Gifford pulled back for a heartbeat, his eyes wide with surprise. “Jane,” he breathed. “I—”

“Don’t change.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Please.”

“Oh, Jane.” He kissed her. Softly at first, but then she pulled him close and pressed her lips harder to his. And that was it. She could feel him giving in by the way his body pressed against hers, the way one of his hands cupped her cheek, and the way the other slid down her arm. She could feel his desire to stay human in the fevered, desperate way he kissed her. Like he wanted this to last, to make this moment stretch on.

But then he jerked back and threw his shirt free, bright white light enveloping him.

“No!” Jane’s eyes stung with tears.

The light faded, and Gifford stood there as a horse.

Jane pressed her hands to her mouth to hold in a faint sob.

His head dropped.

“It’s all right,” she said tremulously after a long moment. “It’s very difficult to master the change. Even Gran said she had a hard time with it, remember? You can try again. When you’re better rested.”

She went to lift the flap for him to step out of the tent.

“I’ll see you later,” she said. “Tonight.”

He didn’t look at her as he passed. He just went. Then she was alone in the dim space that still smelled faintly of horse.

She stared down at the tangled blankets they’d shared, trying not to cry. Perhaps she’d put too much hope in his feelings for her. What if he didn’t care about her as much as she cared about him? What if that was why he hadn’t stayed human? She’d tried. Oh, she’d tried, and they’d kissed. But it hadn’t been enough.

She hadn’t been enough.

Jane spent the day waiting for dusk.

She didn’t see Gifford, except the occasional glimpse of him running with other horses, or resting in the shade. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Not that she had time to dwell on him. There was so much to do to prepare for nightfall.

When the sun was almost down she made her way to Edward’s command tent. Gifford trotted toward her, chestnut coat shining in the honey light, and then he vanished into the tent without pausing to acknowledge her whatsoever.

Her heart sank.

She watched as the camp readied itself for battle. The men put on their armor and strapped on shields and swords. The archers tested their bows. The cavalry saddled their horses. And the noncombatants pinned open their tent flaps, preparing to receive the wounded.