Shan cursed and his heart leapt erratically. She’d done it, hadn’t she? He could feel it. Something inside him was changing and not for the better.
“We’re running out of time,” he told Naul.
The wolf whimpered, and lifted his head. A long howl ululated through the darkness, high pitched, and heart rending. Naul was looking for help. But there was no help coming. Not for either of them.
They scrambled down the hillside, out to the road below. And found more Fellna there, hoards of them. They came from the shadows, swirling around him, ready to swarm.
God and goddess no, they’d take him with them after all. He’d promised Jeren he’d be back. Dream or not, he’d said the words to her and she’d heard him. He knew that. He’d promised. She’d despair if she thought he’d gone forever, if she thought he’d lied. Shan drew his sword, ready to face the hoard of shadows, ready to fight them all, to cut his way free of them. In the back of his mind he could hear laughter, the Enchassa’s terrible laughter.
The noise of horse hooves thundered towards them. Shan turned, sword still in hand to see a host of Holtlanders riding down on him. And at their head, the silvery blade flashing in the fading light, like a vision of the goddess incarnate, was Jeren.
One second they were charging a swarm of Fellna and the next— Shan just stood there, staring at her. Jeren’s eyes took in the blood, the weapons, the dazed look in his eyes and the still form of Naul in his arms. Then her horse reared up, throwing her right off its back.
The ground hit her like iron, driving the air from her lungs, feeling from her entire body and every thought from her head, but ‘Please don’t let him be hurt!’
Horse hooves milled around her, cries of warning, of shocked surprise, curses and her name. Vertigern shouted in outrage and a dozen weapons were lifted, ready to attack.
Jeren tried to move, but her body wouldn’t obey her, tried to at least lift her arms to shield her head from the horses. Fine thing it would be to die here, trampled by the stupid animals.
But all she could see was Shan, standing there in the road, wounded but alive.
Shan. Her Shan.
His arms closed around her, lifting her and she opened eyes she wasn’t aware she had closed, to find him there, holding her, carrying her to safety.
Just as he had when they first met. She wanted to weep with the joy of it, but she’d poured out too many tears of grief for him. There were none left for joy.
“Where have you been?” she whispered. His grip on her tightened but he gave no answer. “Shan,” she tried again, “what happened to you?”
He dropped to his knees amid the trees and settled her on the ground, gazing at her.
“I could ask the same of you, my love. You’re... changed.”
“You...” The words choked inside her as her throat clenched shut on them. She half-sobbed. “You left me!” They came out as a shout, a violent accusation, as pure unadulterated pain. Shan flinched back from her, but only once.
Nothing scared him. Especially not her.
He bowed his head. “I was a fool.”
Not ‘I’m sorry’, she noted, not ‘I was wrong’.
The admission snatched her arguments and every reason she had to berate him from her. She blinked, trying to work out what she saw in his face. Something was different, deep in his eyes. Something that had devastated him.
“Shan? What happened?”
She reached out, tracing her trembling fingers over his lips and along his jaw, up the sharp lines of his cheekbones. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, which he held. He froze, poised beneath her touch, drinking down the intimacy, memorizing the sensations.
He wasn’t going to stay. She knew it with each anguished beat of her heart. He’d left once, concocted reasons to go, and he’d do it again as soon as he convinced himself it was better that way. Jeren’s mind turned black and red with rage. Not this time. She wouldn’t allow it.
“No!” She grabbed his tunic, shook him hard. “You can’t go. Not again.” Jeren released him, but Shan stayed where he was. He didn’t struggle or fight. Nor did he reach out for her. Just stood there, with his arms hanging by his side.
“You don’t understand, I can’t—”
“No, you don’t understand.” She stiffened her resolve. If he wanted it this way then very well, she would play it this way. It would be a pleasure. If the only way to keep him with her in the camp was in chains, so be it. “That isn’t a request, Shan, so listen to me well.” Straightening her body, throwing back her shoulders, she became the Lady of River Holt, Scion of Jern once again. “You’re too much of a liability running around by yourself. You have no business leaving the camp, no business out here alone. The Fellna are drawn to you. You’ll put us all in danger. From now on you will stay here, with me.”
She spun away, dismissing him, unable to look at the pain in his eyes. Her followers stared, open-mouthed, but she didn’t care. She snatched the horse’s reins from Vertigern and swung herself back into the saddle.
“Vertigern, escort my husband back to the camp and see that he has a guard at all times. He’s not to leave our camp or company again.”
In one sense, nothing had changed about the camp other than its location. The layout was the same; the same groups camped together, travelled together, trained together. And yet it felt like a different world. Shan knew the change lay in him, not in the world around him. And in his relationship with Jeren.
He watched her prowl around the pavilion Vertigern had furnished, more Holtlady than he had ever seen her.
She was angry. He understood that. He was angry himself. In a few days, it seemed that everything had changed.
And wasn’t that his own fault? He’d left. Deserted her, for the best of reasons perhaps, but deserted her all the same. The only reason he wasn’t long gone, already in River Holt, was that Anala had tricked him. He was changing as well, more fundamentally than he would ever care to admit.
And he could tell her nothing. He couldn’t tell anyone.
If they knew of the spell, even guessed it, his people would not have him here no matter what Jeren said. And that would cause another rift that wasn’t needed. If she knew about the spell... could he stand to see that knowledge in her eyes? No. Better the anger, better that to drive her than desolate despair. He would fight this battle alone, as he should.
He’d failed in everything else. He’d failed Ylandra and he’d fallen straight into the Enchassa’s trap. He couldn’t fail now or he would lose everything he held dear.
But most of all he feared he had already failed Jeren. And so she couldn’t trust him any longer. She might not know why, or what he had planned, or how badly he had stumbled, but she knew he’d failed her. She wasn’t going to allow it to happen again. He’d never really seen her anger, not turned on him. It was worse than seeing it in any other soul he’d ever met.
Bleak desolation took him. He walked through the days with his head bowed.
They reached the edge of River Holt lands. Brightling’s Dale was no more than spitting distance from them. The thought sent chills down his spine. Not just the memories of what had happened to Anala there. But the thought that the Enchassa had somehow brought them back here, that she had somehow manipulated Jeren’s path.
The sight of the Seers teaching Jeren did nothing for Shan’s worsening temper. That Indarin stood there calmly, watching from a distance, was even worse. At least Fethan was no longer with them. Whatever had happened, no one spoke of it. And that made it even clearer. Something terrible had occurred.