25. Merry and Bright

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Y/n's POV:

Gloves were probably the greatest invention humanity could boast. In those long hours, while a muscular, powerful horse jostled every bone in my body and a pale December sun did nothing to warm us, I wished fervently for a thick pair of woolen gloves. The best I could do was stuff my hands in the pockets of Erik's prison uniform and hope to generate feeling in my fingers, which were now stiff and chapped in the biting wind.

But my hands were in Erik's pockets. Erik's. And this fact meant he was near me again, never to be parted from my side.

My weary spirit lightened with unbridled joy, for Christmas wouldn't be Christmas with my husband in jail.

In the evening, when the frosty excuse for a sun dipped under the horizon, we arrived at a familiar inn. Although, in the fading light of day, the place the surete had attempted to hole me up in looked far different. It looked almost... cozy? My would-be jailhouse really looked like something from a storybook. Perhaps it was merely the picturesque holly in the windows and the pure white snow glistening on the ground.

Christine and I had promised to return our stolen horses, but after that, Erik and I were getting far, far away from here.

Christine dismounted first. Her nose and cheeks were an unsightly red, and her breath curled into a mist upon the frozen air.

 "Let's quickly tie the horses to the fencepost and, if anyone questions their sudden return, pretend we know nothing of their disappearance in the first place."

Despite her iced fingers, Christine knotted her reins to the fencepost, and after helping me dismount, Erik did the same.

 "We should be going." I said, fearful that Christine might try leading us inside.

Stunned, she shook her head.

 "No, you're not. How could you think of that?"

 "But-"

 "Y/n, your girls are practically blue from this cold. I refuse to let you leave until they've warmed up."

So far, she had avoided Erik's eye without problem, but when he spoke, that task became far more difficult.

 "Don't be so idiotic. If I stepped foot in that inn, they'd..."

Erik trailed off, but his silence said enough.

Christine blinked, then blinked again, as if deciding what to say. Her eye contact with Erik lasted less than three seconds. Swiftly, she focused on me again.

 "Right. You all wait out here a minute. I'll handle things."

The words were quiet, and she slipped away noiselessly, closing the inn's door behind her.

Did Erik's brief, entirely neutral words really have such a strong effect on her? Their past was nasty, yes, but I never knew she'd was this traumatized.

No words reached mine or Erik's ears from inside the inn. I watched Erik's face, examining it for any strong emotion, but he remained stoic. He only stared at the door Christine had vanished behind, a blush tingeing his uncovered cheek. I knew he was embarrassed by the whole ordeal, and I couldn't blame him. Still, his reaction gave me hope for him to change. He saw the hurt his past had caused and possessed the good sense to be ashamed. Didn't that bode well for the future?

After a few minutes, the door opened, and Christine stepped back outside.

 "You can come inside now. It's safe." She said.

My stomach clenched. What had she done? Willingly confessed the numerous crimes she and I had committed in the past twenty-four hours? If so, I hardly saw how that made either myself or Erik safe to go inside.

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