“Do you truly think I care? Even a little?”
“No. I’m just pointing it out. To be fair.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are unreasonably fair sometimes, Tyrus. If I was to think anything at all of a potential loss of title, it would be only the very selfish reflection that at least I don’t have to worry about running my blade through some dainty princess who fancies you… or running it through you if she catches your eye.”
He let out a laugh, cutting himself short as he looked around, then lowered his voice when he spoke. “That would be of no concern even if I remained a prince. Yes, I know you’ve heard the stories. A young prince – even a bastard – does pre-sent a temptation to visiting princesses and ladies, and I will admit that I’ve taken advantage of that.”
“As well you should.”
He glanced over to see if she was joking.
“I mean it,” she said. “If girls make themselves available, and you do not dishonor them, then there is no harm in dallying. If the situation were mine, I’d certainly take advantage.”
He laughed again. “Thank you, and I can assure you that whatever you heard, it was exaggerated, but the truth…” He sobered and looked over at her. “The truth, Moria, is that as entertaining as those dalliances were, there was not a girl whose memory lingered moments after she left the city gates. Only once has one stayed in my mind as if branded there. A girl I could not wait to see again, would seize on any excuse to see again, offering anything from garden tours to swordsmanship lessons. After I recovered from battle, all I wanted was to find you. I told myself Gavril would care for you, that my duty was to inform my father of Jorojumo’s betrayal, and that my best hope of rescuing you was with a contingent of his finest warriors at my back.”
“You were using your head.”
He slowed to a stop. “I didn’t want to use my head. If Ashyn hadn’t been there to keep me on track, I think I’d not have managed it. The moment I learned what had happened – that there was no use in returning to the city – I almost felt relieved. I could shuck duty and follow my heart. Find you. Save you.” He paused and gave a tiny smile. “Even if you did not need saving.”
“I appreciate the effort.”
She leaned in to kiss him, but he stopped her, his hands on her shoulders. “You saved yourself, Moria. More than that, you saved me. I’d have died in the forest, with those fiend dogs.”
“But you’d not have been there if you hadn’t come for me.”
“You still did it, and you truly did save me on that battlefield. If you had not called my name when the warlord struck —”
“I’d rather not think on that.”
“Nor would I. But I just want to say…” He kissed her. “… that you…” Another kiss. “… are incredible…” A third. “And I…” A fourth. “… am incredibly lucky.” He looked into her eyes. “I’ll not forget that. Ever.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, and the simple press of the lips became more, deliciously more, until Daigo’s surprisingly gentle growl reminded them that they needed to be on their way again.
FIFTY-TWO
To their relief, Okami’s men were where Tyrus had left them. While neither dared voice it, Moria knew they’d both feared Alvar’s men would come or the fiend dogs would lure Okami’s warriors into the forest.
All Okami’s men needed to do now was give up a couple of warm cloaks. Of course Tyrus insisted he didn’t require one; of course Moria made him take it, threatening at blade-point when needed, which greatly amused Okami’s warriors.
After Moria and Tyrus found a private spot, removed their wet overgarments, and fastened on the warm cloaks, there was a checking and cataloging of injuries. Each reassured the other that his or her own injuries were not so bad as they might have seemed in the forest. Certainly not so bad as they’d seemed before the plunge into deep water cleaned away the blood. Moria’s arm required a cloth binding. Tyrus’s injuries were more numerous, but none severe, though Moria examined each bite and scratch before agreeing further care could wait.
They returned to Okami’s men, hung the wet garments from their saddles, and set out. Tyrus had not asked why she’d been wearing only under-dresses. Moria suspected he’d mistaken the layers for a simple gown. Her footwear was covered with enough mud and darkness that it wouldn’t be obvious they were finely made sandals. She did not wish to explain the party and the fake betrothal. Even more, though, she did not wish to mention the dungeon cell. Tyrus had been correct to head for the city after the battle, but his guilt over that was heavy enough. Let him think Gavril had been a serviceable host.
They rode through the night and into dawn, heading toward the mountains, with Okami’s compound at their base. The party took rutted forest paths whenever possible. At dawn, they reached a roadside public house – not an inn, but someone’s home, the owners offering food and beds to the rare traveler who came that way. While Tyrus and Moria stayed with Daigo and a blazing fire, Okami’s men commandeered the place, turning out a group of fellow travelers and taking their breakfast for themselves. They were on the edges of Lord Okami’s land now, and his men could expect such service.
Their host brought out food and drink, a veritable feast after Moria’s captivity, and she dove in like a ravenous beast, to the others’ amusement – and encouragement. They were rough men, these warriors of the Gray Wolf, as Goro Okami was known. Not the sort of warriors she was accustomed to, but the sort that seemed more accustomed to women like her – men who found it not the least bit odd that a girl knew how to use a dagger and how to pack away a man’s breakfast, a girl who was treated as equal by a prince.