Of Swords And Horses (The Ostler's Boy Book 2)

Chapter Nineteen

I closed the door behind me as gently as I could when I arrived at Eliza's chamber that night. She barely looked at me as she carried her brush from the vanity to the foot of the bed and started to tend to her hair.

"...Are you still cross with me?" I worked up the nerve to ask.

She blinked once before meeting my eyes with a fake smile. "Cross? Who? Me?"

I sighed, sitting beside her, and taking the comb from her hand. "Here," I said. "May I?"

Eliza muttered something I didn't catch. She shifted so that I could have a better angle, and she picked at the forming pill upon her quilt.

"Why are you still nice to me?" she asked.

"You know the answer to that," I breathed. "I love you. Why are you so upset?"

"Everyday I hurt you," she said.

"That isn't true," I shook my head. "That is not true."

"It is," she nodded. "I really thought," her voice quivered. "I thought... Here is a man. A real man, not some flimsy cardstock of one, hidden behind titles and land... I thought... Surely this will be the father."

"My love," I told her, stopping. I set the brush on the night stand and returned to her, bringing her forehead to mine. "Do not inflict pain upon yourself when it was simply chance."

"But nothing is chance. Everything is predetermined before our birth. That's what the Church says. And now, we are forever–"

"We are forever past this moment, you and me."

"But how can we be past it?"

"We just are." I hoped to comfort her, but she was... I should have known she was further down the fox hole than I thought.

"We can go to North Áire," she declared. "Where my family is."

I sighed. "And they'll harbor you? Us?"

"Yes!"

"Two treasonists? A runaway wife and her lover? Come Eliza. ...The King will wage war upon them for so much as considering such an act. They're aristocrats, not soldiers. You would wish that for your kin?"

"No. That is why Chalke was my original idea, but you didn't like that," she whined. "I have found myself having to adapt."

I growled. "I know very little of Chalke."

"You've been there multip–!"

"I've walked the sands, yes. Not enough to more than glean the culture or law. How could we safely call it our home? Inevitably, we would break some rule and be exposed, or worse, separated. We're safe here."

"I don't feel safe."

I scoffed. "Is that a commentary on my command? My ability? Or–"

"It isn't a commentary on anything, it's a statement. I fear for us. How long can this go on undiscovered?"