Chained To Him [Editing]

Chapter Forty-Five

It was only when she saw the wooden buildings rising low on the horizon that Jayde allowed her hope to return. The weariness bore to her bones, and she felt the flagging strength of her horse as she gently urged him forward. She had made camp where the prairie flattened and spread into an old oak forest that sheltered her from the road, though she didn't dare to make a fire. In the night, she'd awoken to the sound of hoofbeats several times, and she had laid in silence, staring up at the wash of stars in the crisp, clear night, telling herself again and again that no one knew she was out here, or that Aragon had been taken. In her mind, like a specter, Aragon had already escaped and was close on her heels, face twisted and dark at her betrayal. But the morning had come without event, and she drove forward until they'd reached the inn where the innkeeper's wife had once offered her an escape. She could only pray that she could still find safety there.

Marcus had been packing a pipe with another man in front of the inn, and he looked up as she rode closer, freezing as he saw her face. The pipe fell, spilling tobacco across the ground as he ran to her and took the reins of her horse.

"You," he whispered in a hoarse voice. He turned to his friend and pointed toward the inn. "Get Marlyn!"

She let him grab her waist and hoist her down from the saddle, barely able to lift her stiff legs enough to help him. The ground swam beneath her feet and she stumbled, clutching onto his jacket as she righted herself.

"What's happened to you? Why..." Marcus looked anxiously from the direction she'd ridden, as if Aragon's entourage would be close behind. His fear spurred her own, but she shook her head.

"We're safe," she assured him. "I'll explain everything, but please let's get inside before we're seen."

Marlyn appeared then and gingerly took her arm. "Take care of her horse, I'll bring her inside." She led her past the entrance of the inn along the back wall, away from the prying eyes of whoever happened to be in the tavern now. Jayde was glad that Marlyn didn't try to ask her what had happened as she brought her to what must be their own quarters at the very back of the inn. When they stepped inside, the warmth of the hearth and the safety of surrounding walls let her shoulders relax for the first time. She sank heavily into a chair that Marlyn pulled out for her and didn't argue when a plate of bread and cheese was pushed in front of her.

"Eat first," she said gently. "And then tell me what is going on."

Jayde obeyed, letting the bread ease the gnawing in her stomach. Just filling her belly helped to distract from the other pain, the deep, horrible ache of her wounds and tightness like claws around her heart.

"Please," she managed when she had finished. "I need a fresh horse and rations. I have to get back to Aésadel."

Marlyn shook her head and rested her hand on Jayde's. "You're wounded, Jayde, I can see it in the way you move. Let me at least look at you."

"There's no time."

"If you die from infection, you'll have lost any time you might have gained." Helping her stand, Marlyn led her to the bath and helped her step out of her dirty, blood-stained gown. It wasn't her nakedness that caused Jayde to flush, but simply the act of being so wounded and vulnerable in front of someone else. Closing her eyes, she tried to ignore the stinging across her skin as Marlyn peeled away the old bandages. The warm water burned her wounds, but the cool air that rushed in after offered some comfort.

"You need more than mere bandages," Marlyn said quietly, but Jayde shook her head.

"There's no time," she said again, and the innkeeper's wife gave her a gentle look.

"I'm just going to stitch a few of the cuts. Whatever it is you have planned, it won't do any good for you to leave in this state." She left before Jayde could argue, returning with a bottle of dark liquor and a needle. Jayde refused the alcohol – she needed to have a clear head, and as much as she longed for anything to numb the pain of the needle now threading through her skin, she knew her state was fragile enough as it was.