The holding cell had a bed. It wasn’t a remarkable bed, but it was a greater comfort than Cass expected. The guards pushed him inside without a word, and he shared none of his own. It was not the first time he’d been imprisoned, but it was the first time he’d seen this part of Kentoria, and the lumpy straw mattress struck him as kinder than the kingdom’s reputation might suggest. With no idea what awaited him next, he made himself as comfortable as he could on the musty old bed and slept.
What passed afterward could have been minutes or hours. He did not know and it made no difference, for he woke tired when the guards came for him, all the same.
“His Majesty has ordered you be presented for sentencing before the throne,” a guard announced as they pulled him from the cell. Cass expected shackles, but they merely held his arms as they escorted him through the palace.
The red granite walls were less oppressive indoors, decorated as they were with lavish paintings and tapestries. He caught himself memorizing the path between the prison and the throne room without thought, but the guards gave him no time to reflect on old habits. Instead, they opened the doors and shoved him through.
The throne room was warm and welcoming, despite the stories he’d heard. Rumors in Nylmeres claimed Gaius had been beheaded in his own throne room, a rumor Cass now saw as a great exaggeration. Gaius lounged on the throne with his woman standing beside him. Both were dressed in regal finery, but it was the third figure who drew his eye.
Elia stood nearby, though to the side and behind her cousin. Her plain state of dress made her look like the future queen’s handmaiden, but she bore a sense of serenity that formed a harsh contrast to the tense and contemplative expressions the king and his woman both wore. Elia caught him looking and offered a tentative—but nervous—smile.
Strangely, that gave him comfort.
“I trust your night was restful?” Gaius asked, breaking the tense silence that hung over the throne room.
“Would’ve been better with a woman in my arms,” Cass replied.
A hint of color bloomed in Elia’s face and she bowed her head. Why had that embarrassed her? Hadn’t she been asleep when he extricated himself from the blankets?
The king smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind for future criminals. But we both have a great deal that needs our attention, so for now, we’ll skip right to your sentencing. How does that strike you?”
“Suppose that’s up to you. Could be a slap on the wrist. Could be the headsman’s axe.”
Gaius shrugged. “Well, it won’t be that. I haven’t replaced myself yet.”
Cass felt his brows knit, voicing his confusion better than he could have done with words.
Whether he understood or not didn’t seem to matter, for the king went on without so much as straightening on his throne. “Due to Elia’s insistence your presence in the palace was her idea and not yours, your punishment will be simple. You will serve penance for your attempt to spy on my affairs, and then you will be let free.”
Penance? Cass stared and his shoulders sagged. “That’s it?”
“You ought to be grateful. But I trust you’ll have plenty of opportunities to thank her.” The king’s eyes narrowed and he smirked like a fox with a mouthful of feathers.
Elia kept her head down, her attention trained on the floor, but Cass caught the way she clasped her hands tighter before her. As he looked, the guards who held him tightened their grip.
Gaius went on. “By all accounts, the forests near Samara have been infiltrated by what appear to be Nylmerian men who have kidnapped one of my citizens. I am told you are already aware of the situation.” His smirk deepened into a grin, a harsh glint in his eyes. “As penance, you will make up for what your countrymen have done. You will find where they have gone, capture as many as possible and turn them over to my guards, then recover the man they have kidnapped.”
Cass stared, the furrow between his brows deepening.
“And,” the king added with a tilt of his open hand toward Elia, “you will do it with her.”
No. He’d tried to leave her behind on purpose! “She’s not a fighter,” Cass growled. “You send her, you’re putting her at risk.”
“Well, if it were an easy task, it wouldn’t be penance, would it?” Gaius sat back, smug satisfaction clear on his face.
Cass struggled to think of some objection. She wasn’t experienced in that sort of thing. She was too soft, too delicate, too sweet. Yet she’d faced those men with stubborn ferocity before, and if Gaius knew about what had transpired, she’d shared that part, too. His eyes narrowed. Had she orchestrated all this to get her way? The visit to the palace, his arrest? Curse her.
“You would send an innocent woman into the wilds with me, knowing who I am?” he asked. She bore more cunning than he’d anticipated. Portraying her as weak would do little, but Gaius knew what he was capable of.
To his surprise, the king pressed a hand to his chest, his fingers splayed wide. “Far be it from me to cast aspersions on the character of a man conscripted by his king for the purpose of killing. If there is nothing else you take away from this encounter, let it be that I am not a hypocrite.”
This time, the faintest smile returned to Elia’s lips.
She had orchestrated this. Cass stared at her, his jaw tightening as he wished he could curse himself for intervening at all. He couldn’t, no matter how he tried. It had been the right thing to do, and if she wanted to throw away the safety he’d sacrificed to give her…
“Fine,” he snapped. So be it. Let her tag along and see the ugly truth of everything he’d hidden away.
“Excellent.” Finally, the king sat up straight. “Release him. See that he’s given all provisions necessary for this expedition. Perhaps no fruit, however. He doesn’t seem to be appreciative of that expense.”
Cass gave a bitter, mirthless smile.
A quick gesture beckoned Elia to the throne, where she bent to receive murmured instructions from the king. She nodded, then bowed and descended from the dais to join Cass on the floor as the guards retreated.
“Supplies and weaponry will be brought to you at the front gate,” Gaius said. “Fair winds to both of you, and good luck.”
Elia’s gentle hand closed on Cass’s arm and she pulled him toward the door. Reluctant as he was to move, he made himself pick up his feet and go where she directed.
He was planning to do this anyway, he told himself, as if that made it easier to accept what had transpired. He’d planned to go alone, to do things his way, but now they had the aid Elia had asked for, if not in the fashion he’d expected.
In the front hall, a handful of maids intercepted them with heavy coats and woolen cloaks. Elia let them help her dress, while Cass took his and put it on by himself. The coat was a little large, but he preferred that to the alternative. The moment his cloak was fastened, the women led them to the door.
“Safe travels, lady Elia,” one of the maids said. Cass watched as they embraced and parted with smiles, then he let Elia lead the way out the door and down the stairs. The wind was bitter cold and stung his eyes, reminding him why he’d grown out a beard in the first place. Kentorian winters were harsh, but that gave rise to the sap runs they’d somehow turned into wealth.
“They’re fond of you here,” he remarked as they walked. Ahead, a small knot of guards waited with a pair of horses and a handful of bags. He hoped Vinson’s missing sword was among them.
She smiled sweetly, her cheeks already a rosy pink from the cold. “People tend to like you if you try to be kind to them. It’s worked for you, being kind to me, hasn’t it?”
Cass snorted. “I’m not kind.”
Her small giggle lilted sweetly in the air. “We’re going to have to disagree on that.”
One of the guards stepped forward with a bag in one hand and a familiar sword in the other. The matching scabbard had never been taken from him, so Cass accepted the blade and returned it to its sheath at his side before he took the bag.
“The horses are mild,” the guard said. “Well suited to the cold, but there are blankets packed for them, all the same. The gray one is sweeter. He’s for the lady. You have experience with horses?”
“Enough, but we’d be better off on foot for the tracking we need to do.” Cass glanced at the animals. “We’ll take them as far as Vinson’s sugarbush, then leave them in his stable. Can you send someone to retrieve them in a day’s time?”
The guard nodded.
Elia had already crossed to the gray gelding and was stroking his nose while the guards secured the remaining bags to the saddles. That left the chestnut for him. He swung his smaller travel bag over his shoulder and went to take the reins.
“These animals are from the king’s stables,” another guard added. “Treat them well.”
“What are their names?” Elia asked. Of course she’d be concerned with that.
“They’re the king’s property, but they’re relatively new additions, so they haven’t got names.”
She smiled. “Well, maybe one will leap out at me. The dappling on his coat reminds me of tree bark. Maybe Ash or Aspen would be a good fit. What will you call yours?” She glanced toward Cass.
He grasped the saddle and pulled himself up. “Horse.”
“Utilitarian is still functional, I suppose.” She allowed a guard to boost her to the saddle. It was only then that he realized her heavy skirt was divided for riding. Had he seen that sooner, he might have guessed what was coming.
The guards opened the gates.
Elia turned her horse, but held him back. “I’ll let you lead.”
Cass grunted. “Forget the way already?”
“I can get from here to Vinson’s home just fine, but you’re supposed to be in charge of this expedition. I’m just here to learn. And ask helpful connections for supplies.” It was so close to an admission of chicanery that even she seemed to know it, for she averted her eyes a moment later, pretending to examine the clouds. Compared to the last few days, the sky was completely ordinary.
Disgruntled, he reined his horse around and roused it to a brisk walk. The road beyond the gates had already been churned to slush, but the unpleasant cold meant there was little traffic. The horses were sure-footed and carried them toward the edge of the city with little difficulty, even on the slick cobbles.
“My father once owned horses,” Elia said as they walked. “He didn’t keep them long because he found it difficult to get out to the stable where they were boarded. My brothers took me all the time, though. You needn’t worry about my riding.”
“I wasn’t planning to worry about it to begin with. You can fall off all you want.”
“You aren’t worried about me getting hurt?”
“It’s how you learn. If you’ve ridden all that much, you know that.”
She grinned. “I don’t think my father would have allowed me to ride if he knew how many times I’ve been thrown. My brothers never told him, though. I’m still grateful for that. Riding those horses was often the only time I felt free.”
Cass wished he could relate. Riding alongside her felt like imprisonment.
“Do you have family, Cass?” She leaned forward in the saddle when she asked, though she was not that far behind. Their horses could have walked abreast, but she kept the gray back a few paces, allowing the illusion he was properly in the lead.
Penance indeed.
“A sister,” he said, though he didn’t know why he replied. His life was none of her concern.
She still leaned forward. “What’s her name?”
“Alessia.”
“Cassian and Alessia,” she murmured. “Those do sound like they go together. I don’t think my parents chose names with any sort of theme. I’ve never felt like any of my brothers went together, never mind my brothers and me.”
Cass had only met Romaric, but he agreed. “No sisters?”
She shook her head. “I’m the only one, and the youngest. Why do you think my father’s so protective?”
He snorted. “Baby of the family?”
“It’s terrible.”
He nodded. “Me, too.”
“Yes, but you’re a boy. People expect you’ll be rough and tumble, that you’ll eventually grow up to have tools in your hands. I think it’s worse to be the baby and be a girl. It’s stifling.” She waved a hand. “Everything I’m allowed to do is chosen by what they think is right or proper, like I have to live by their standards and not my own. Like I’m not allowed to become my own person.”
“If it’s that bad, then telling your father what you’re doing now is going to be interesting.” Selfishly, Cass thought it might be entertaining to see the king explain to an angry nobleman why he’d sent the fellow’s daughter riding off with a brute like him.
Elia sighed. “Thea’s going to handle it.”
“The two of you are close.”
“Yes, she was the sister I never had. That I always wanted.”
He reminded himself not to be swayed by the wistfulness in her voice. Yet he couldn’t help replying; she was strangely easy to talk to, good at pulling responses from him when normally he would have offered none. “You’re lucky to have that.”
She almost glowed. “Yes, I am. And I’m lucky for where she ended up in life, because it put me in the right position to help you.”
Help him? He didn’t know whether to scoff or laugh, but her sincerity kept him from doing either. Help him. Not manipulate or use. From anyone else, he would have known that a lie, but something about her made him unsure. He’d always been able to trust his instincts, but the fact his instincts told him she was being honest left him doubting.
“Even after what you heard?” He wasn’t sure why he asked. Obviously she’d decided it was worth it, or they wouldn’t be where they were now, leaving Samara and starting the short journey to his current employer’s residence. Yet some part of him still wanted to hear it, some confirmation that she’d heard the first whisper of his past and hadn’t decided to run.
Elia shrugged. “You heard the king. He thinks you can be trusted to do this, to help me do this. Gaius has a questionable history of his own, but I’ve gotten to know him over the last few weeks, and I don’t think he’s a bad man.”
Cass was inclined to agree, and that left him frustrated. The Rothalan family was known for violence, but Cass had never expected they’d use one of their own for the sort of dirty work that had pitted him against the man who now held the throne. That should have left him with a foul taste in his mouth, but Gaius had been… cordial. Warm. Generous, even. The previous king of Kentoria would have seen Cass beheaded only moments after discovery, not packed up with supplies and given a horse, then sent out to accompany a favored relative of the soon-to-be queen. Cass had seen a lot of political scheming through the years, but whatever this plot was, he couldn’t figure it out.
“I think you’d like him too, if you had the chance to know him,” she added, as if troubled by his silence.
He set his mouth and exhaled hard, his breath a soft cloud of white. “I’m not planning on staying that long.”
Elia grew quiet, and he knew she was disappointed.
Swaying the king to let him go without real punishment. Insisting on riding with him. Hoping he would stay. In another situation, he might have known what her interest in keeping close to him meant. He thought of her body curled close against his, how warm she’d been beside him, how delicate she’d felt in his arms. He understood his own reaction to such things; work had kept him from forging connections for too long, and even the strongest of men battled loneliness. A companion—a partner—was something he’d always been denied. It was no wonder that a pretty woman in his arms would be appealing, and it wasn’t necessarily because it was her. It was just what she represented, how she reminded him of old longings and reminded him of what he didn’t have. What he was supposed to have, he thought bitterly.
Gaius had been right about one thing: Cass had retired. He’d performed his service to the crown, done as he was asked, had enough brushes with death to satisfy him for a lifetime. But men with power were rarely satisfied, and when his king summoned him for another task, his choices were limited to obeying or trying to flee. Every day since that summons came, he wondered if he’d made the right decision.
“Is it me you’re angry at, or yourself?” Elia’s soft question shook him out of his thoughts, so close to his own musings that he found himself craning his neck to give her a suspicious frown. She smiled in response. She was always smiling. He wished he understood why.
“I’m not angry at anyone,” he said. “Just tired.” With a soul-deep weariness he doubted she would understand.
Still, the thoughtfulness that went into her reply made him think she tried. “Responsibility is a heavy burden. I’ll do my best not to add to yours.”
He shook his head. “Right now, you are my burden.”
“Is that how you see it? Maybe I should have let Gaius keep you in that cell.” She raised a brow in challenge, then clicked to her horse. The gray gelding picked up his feet and pranced forward in the snow to take the lead.
Cass snorted and watched her cloak flutter in the breeze. Penance. He tried to hold the word in mind as he urged his horse to keep up, but it slipped away as swiftly as the mist of his breath on the wind.
It was supposed to be penance, but her presence wasn’t punishment if he liked it.
