She followed his wife out of the taproom.
“You’d best come with me, sir,” Father Rooney said, getting to his feet. “To get the horses ready. I’ll even throw in some provisions.”
Gerard could only follow the man; he wasn’t about to thank him for taking advantage of their situation. They went out behind the inn to a separate barn. A young boy, an ostler, had two mares already saddled. They looked like sturdy rather than speedy horses, but at least they weren’t broken-down nags. Mr. Rooney took the bridles from the lad and instructed him to bring some tack and blankets. Once they were tied to the saddles, Rooney handed one of the bridles to Gerard and they walked the horses to the front of the inn.
They waited for only a few minutes before Elea came out. Her hair now brushed the tops of her shoulders, and above her left ear, there was a shaved rectangle where parts of her hair had already been torn out. Her simple woolen dress now had the addition of a scabbard with a dagger. Yet he thought that she had never looked more like a queen. Or more beautiful. Her head was held high, her chin set at a determined tilt, and her emerald-green eyes were sparkling.
She took the bridle from the innkeeper. “Thank you for your help. May Màthair watch over and bless you.”
Gerard could see the burly man blush underneath his beard. He hadn’t been much help at all. Father Rooney cupped his hands and helped Elea onto her mount. She groaned audibly. Her ribs were probably aching. Gerard lifted himself into the saddle and touched his hat to the innkeeper. A small crowd had gathered outside of the inn to watch them go. Elea waved as if she were a princess on parade. He kept his head down until they were out of the village.
“This way,” Elea said, taking the lead.
She led her horse from the road and out onto a field in a gallop. Gerard didn’t need his compass to know that she was heading northwest. Elea seemed to know from instinct where they were going.
They galloped for a couple of miles before slowing down to a steady pace. Elea didn’t speak to him, but when he looked over at her, it seemed to take all of her strength and concentration to stay on the horse. Gerard had to admit that his body was not used to riding great distances either. A soreness was growing in his thighs, and he wondered if he would be able to walk the next day.
Elea stopped at a river and dismounted. She led her horse to the water. Gerard followed her, bowlegged.
“How much longer, do you think?” he asked, more for conversation than for an explanation.
She pointed across the river. “We are at the Great Stone Road.”
He saw a row of rectangular stones, each the height of a man, spaced six feet apart and stretching for miles in both directions. They were the stones from his vision. He knew where they led.
31
NORA
Early the next morning, Nora lay in Matteo’s arms. She was his wife, his soulmate, in every possible way. She felt his soul inside her body repairing the damage to hers. Healing her. She was still weak, but with Matteo’s borrowed strength, she would be able to travel to Urka.
She brushed a black curl on his forehead away from his eyes. “You know I have to go to Urka to help Elea fulfill the prophecy.”
He covered her pale hand with his dark one and brought it to rest on his toned chest. She could feel his heartbeat through his skin. “I’ll come with you this time.”
Nora lifted her head so that she could look into his beautiful amber eyes. “You are the King of Sania. You cannot abandon your army in a foreign country.”
“I let you go once and I nearly lost you,” he said softly, his fingers gently caressing the bandage at her throat. “I thought that you were dead and that I was too late. That I’d lost you forever.”
“You will never lose me now,” Nora said, cupping his handsome face with her hands and lightly brushing her lips against his. “You are a part of me, and I a part of you. We share each other’s souls. But I made a blood oath to Elea first. I have to help her regain the throne, fulfill the Trigon Prophecy, and free the people of Urka. It is the reason I was born.”
He moved his hand up and down her arm, creating both warmth and goosebumps. “Then I was born to help you. Someone is going to have to hold you up in your saddle while you cross an entire country until you are fully healed.”
“I cannot stop until my cousin is queen.”
“Neither will I,” he said solemnly, taking her hand and kissing it. “You have my word.”
“I don’t need your word,” she said, kissing him greedily between each word. “I. Have. A. Piece. Of. Your. Soul.”
* * *
By the timeshe awoke from her nap, Matteo was gone from the bed and Madam Coutour was waiting outside the door and did not let Nora leave until she had washed and redressed her wounds. She also had a fresh pair of leggings, a tunic, a heavy black cloak, and a large-brimmed hat to hide her hair. For once, Nora was grateful for the help in dressing. Every inch of her body ached, but she didn’t have time for pain.
Stumbling through the halls of the palace, she headed for the reception room. A Sanian soldier opened the door for her. Matteo and Alexandre were in there. Both of their faces looked strained. The signing of treaties was rarely pleasant. Matteo turned to the sound of the door—he had ears like a cat—and smiled at her. A warmth filled her body and it was as if her strength was renewed. He was not wearing his Sanian uniform but plain black clothes like hers.
Matteo walked toward her and met her with a tender kiss. “I have already given instructions to my soldiers. They’ve prepared our horses and supplies. And I’ve even scoured the Kaul armory for an assortment of your favorite weapons.”
“You’re incredible,” she breathed.