Chapter Fifteen

"T hank the heavens above," Galiena grumbled to herself. The blurry outline of scattered structures visible in the distance had to be Llanidloes. If it wasn't, she feared she might weep with disappointment—not that anyone would see her pitiful tears with the icy rain soaking her face. She'd kept her hood pulled down as low as possible for the last hour or more, but the rain had been so heavy and the wind so relentless that it had been impossible to stay dry.

She peeked from under her sodden hood at the riders and travelers ahead of them. As they'd drawn closer to Llanidloes, which was the last significant settlement before Llanbadarn, they had met more people making the same journey. She'd not expected so many to travel across Wales to pay their respects to a king who had recently conquered their land, but people seemed weary of the rebellions and constant fighting among the princes of Wales and ready for order to be restored.

There were a few who appeared to be lords, or men of a wealthy status, going to pay homage to King Edward, conqueror of Wales, even if reluctantly. Others appeared to be individuals or families making the pilgrimage, either on foot or in simple carts pulled by a lone horse, to see the king and queen of England. More were likely making the journey as entertainers or trinket hawkers, looking to profit off the throngs of people who would be crowding the city for a view of the king and queen.

Besides the fact that there were so many travelers, the driving wind and rain had slowed the progress of the horses to a walk, and they were forced to traverse at the same pace as those on foot for the final miles. She'd felt guilty riding a strong horse while others walked; the daughter of a merchant, widow of a farmer was not worthy of the distinction. To feel less conspicuous of the privilege, Galiena offered to take a young girl of perhaps six or seven up in the saddle before her, tucking the scrawny girl into her cloak to share what little warmth she had left. It pleased her immensely when Red took up the little girl's brother to ride behind him on Hammer, and Bard and Wolf took up two other children from the group of nearby travelers to ride on their horses.

It felt good to hold the little girl, who pressed up against her because they were so cold, both of them shivering. Emotionally drained from the day already, and too numb from the freezing wind and rain to feel the usual and ever-present pain in her heart, the memories of the past were mercifully quiet. Galiena was contented with the presence of the child and thought about nothing more for the time being.

Night was descending and the darkness would soon be complete. More buildings were becoming visible as they drew nearer, including a large church. She prayed there were enough inns and beds to house them all as she did not think any of them could possibly ride or walk any farther. The heavy clouds blotted out any sign of the moon and stars, and soon the night would be black as ink, making it a folly to continue.

They'd encountered several more bridges on the journey before joining up with the other travelers on the main road to Llanidloes, and though the driving rain and slick slats of wood had terrified her, there was no other option but to force herself to cross over them. She found that if she argued with Red over some mundane point, giving her the excuse to disguise her terror as frustration, it distracted her from thinking about where she was or what could happen. She knew he'd caught on quite early to her need to focus her anxious energy on some trivial matter, which meant he could be counted on to oblige her by taking a contrary stance to anything she said while crossing a bridge.

They'd argued about whether or not The Executioner should be assigned a name, something that could be used to refer to him without raising suspicion should anyone be eavesdropping. Red didn't see the point in it, preferring she not speak of him at all. She ignored his grumbling, insisting she wanted a name that would take away some of his power, something belittling—much in the same way she believed calling her mount Metal would bolster the horse's fortitude, though in the opposite direction. In the end, she decided The Executioner would be known as "Toad," even if Red refused to use the new moniker.

They'd argued about whether Lancelot caused the fall of Camelot, or if it was Guinevere due to the rift she caused between best friends, or if it was entirely the fault of King Arthur. The soldiers had even weighed in on this topic. Bard was the only one to agree with Galiena that it was solely on the shoulders of Arthur. The others agreed with Red's argument that if Arthur and Lancelot had not been divided by deceit and jealousy over Guinevere, then Camelot would never have fallen. That particular argument got them over the remaining bridges and a precarious stretch of the trail that edged along a steep bank of the river.

And if the howling of the wind and pounding of the rain had not increased to the point of being deafening, she would have continued to defend Guinevere all the way to Llanidloes as a distraction from her chattering teeth and frozen fingers.

As it was, she almost wept with joy when Ox and Dane stopped their horses on the lane in the middle of the village. It stretched for some length and was flanked by a number of buildings with lights shining through the windows. She was especially grateful to see what appeared to be three separate taverns with upper levels. With luck, not all of the rooms were filled as of yet.

The men dismounted from their horses, but Galiena was too stiff from the frigid weather and the long hours in the saddle to move of her own accord. Red approached and helped the little girl she carried to dismount so she could return to her family. Galiena didn't protest when Red grabbed her reins and led Metal to a barn behind one of the inns. Once they were under the roof of the barn, he took her by the waist and gingerly lifted her off the horse.

"I can't feel my legs," she whimpered—much to her shame—draping her arms around Red's neck as he helped her down. God help her, but Red would need to carry her again, just as he'd done the previous night. She should have been mortified, but she was too cold and too tired to care.

"Take her in," she heard Ox say. "Dane and I will bed down the horses and meet you inside."

Red cradled her to his chest as he hurried through the rain toward the inn. Bard got there first and yanked on the door, holding it open for them to pass through into the dim light of the tavern. The room was loud with talking and laughing patrons and smelled wonderfully of warm food.

"You may set me down now." Galiena couldn't be sure she would be able to stand, but the embarrassment of sinking to the floor would be easier to bear than the attention they were attracting at the moment.

Red, of course, ignored her wishes, pushing his way through the crowd instead to set her down next to the warmth of the hearth. The hoots and lewd comments that followed in their wake only served to put a grin on the Viking's face, although he did turn a menacing glare toward one young man whose remark was too ribald for his liking. Bard and Wolf added their menacing presence to his implied threat, and they quickly lost the amused attention of the other patrons.

Red kept his arms around her until she was steady on her feet, while Bard and Wolf secured a nearby table and stools which they pulled closer to the heat of the fire. A plump woman with a linen kerchief tied tightly over her hair appeared and slid four tankards onto the table in front of them.

"My husband will be coming down any moment," the woman said to them, as though in warning should they be thinking she was alone. Smart woman, Galiena thought, recalling her own previous experiences working in a tavern; Red hadn't been her first "husband," though he'd been the first physical one she'd made up. When she'd worked in the tavern, any husband she talked about was purely imaginary. "We're near filled up for the night. Your men can sleep by the fire down here, but you and your wife can take my daughter's room above stairs." She looked Red up and down, then added, "Though I don't see how you'll fit. Your feet will be hanging off the end of the bed."

"I'm not his wife," Galiena tried to clarify through chattering teeth.

"What did you say, my lady? All I could hear was the chattering of your teeth," the woman said peevishly.

"She said she needs warm food and wine," Red interjected, still steadying her with his hands on her waist.

"Not much stew left," the woman said. "But I've got bread."

"We'll take what you have for six; two more are joining us," Red requested. "Show me to the room, then I'll return with the coin for the food and lodging."

The woman shook her head. "Eat first. When my husband comes down, I'll ready the room for you." This was not someone to be given orders, here in her own establishment.

Galiena guessed the woman had dealt with her share of demanding men in her lifetime as a tavern keeper, making it difficult for warriors such as Red and his companions to intimidate her. She looked up at Red to see his reaction to being contradicted and was pleased to see a smirk of amusement on his face.

"Thank you, good lady, for your hospitality," he said as a means of deferring to the woman's authority.

The woman seemed appeased by this as her manner softened and her voice took on a gentler tone. "This one is a mulled wine for the lady," she said, sliding one of the tankards apart from the others. "My husband warmed it for my old bones, but I think she needs it more."

"I thank you," Galiena said, the chattering of her teeth slowing. She thought she'd mention she wasn't Red's wife again when her shivering had stopped.

Red slowly released his hold on her, apparently watching for any signs that her legs would give out. She patted his chest reassuringly, then put her hands to her back and stretched from side to side. She was stiff from the long day of riding in the rain. And so wet. After peeling her gloves off her hands, she fumbled with the ties of her cloak, working to get the heavy, sodden garment off of her shoulders. She was relieved to hand it to Red, who took it from her to hang on a peg to dry near the hearth as she picked up the mulled wine, letting the warmth of it penetrate through her stiff fingers.

Bard and Wolf were already seated with drinks in hand, talking to the three men at the next table when Dane and Ox entered, carrying the saddle bags. Soon, they too were downing their ale and laughing with the other men.

Wooden bowls of watery stew and loaves of bread were placed on the table by the woman and her husband, who was as round and stern-faced as his wife. "You got the last room," he said in a gruff voice. "The flues are open to the above floor, but with this wind, you'll need each other to keep warm."

Galiena felt her face flush as she reached for a stool, focusing on the food to hide her embarrassment and discomfort. Having to share a room with Red had her stomach churning, and as hungry as she was, she feared anything she put in it now would come right back up. His kisses and flirting had been flattering, that she could not deny, and for a while she thought she might even enjoy a tryst—many widowed women did—and add some excitement to her life. But she knew herself, and she was not one to give her heart lightly. She did not think she could be a woman who gave herself to a man for a handful of nights and then watched him leave without it breaking her heart. Undoubtedly, an affair of months, or even weeks, would crush her when it ended.

Yet, the more she was out in the world again, the more horrible it seemed to return to her quiet, mundane life. She'd thought about it during the day as they rode, and she'd realized the thought of returning to days spent cleaning rooms and living alone in her widow's cottage brought her a feeling of suffocation. True, Anora gave her some respite from the boredom, but she couldn't expect her friend to take on the burden of being her sole companion and diversion from the tediousness of her days for the rest of her life.

With a hunk of bread, she scooped up some of the watery stew when Red pushed a trencher in her direction and ate it quickly. But the mulled wine seemed more fortifying, so she took a large swallow of it and used the opportunity to peer at Red over the rim of her cup. She sighed. He was seated next to her now, his body turned toward hers, one muscular thigh angled behind her as the knee of his other leg pressed against hers, surrounding her. It was becoming a familiar protective posture.

If she was truthful with herself, Red scared her. He had given her his strength on so many occasions in the days she had known him, she was becoming reliant on him. Just like the fear that filled her when she thought about resuming her former widow's life, a hollow feeling started in the pit of her stomach when she thought about what her future life would be like when this mission was over, and he had no reason to spend his days with her. She was fooling herself if she thought she could go back to the life she had before, letting the darkness envelop her again and dull the world around her. It was not possible after feeling the blood pulse through her veins as it had for the last several days, giving her life.

She had just lifted her tankard to her mouth for another warming swig when she felt Red stiffen at her side. The other men were suddenly alert as well, though they didn't break off their conversations. Looking around the room to see what had gained their attention, she saw a pair of men standing against the wall, periodically glancing in their direction. There were other people leaning against walls, drinking, laughing, and looking around the room, but there was something different about these men. They seemed to be studying the room, and, more specifically, studying them .

"Turn toward me," Red ordered in a low voice as he took a sip of his ale.

She did as he said, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as a prickle of fear gripped her. Had The Executioner found them? "Who are they?" she whispered, looking up at Red.

His face was hard, as he stared directly at the two men. He put a hand on her back and leaned his body in toward hers, making it very clear that anyone who wanted to get near her would have to go through him first. Without thinking, she set a hand on his muscular thigh as a gesture of her trust in him, and to show she was not afraid. She hadn't realized what she'd done until his gaze suddenly turned to hers, fiery and hot.

"Who are they?" she asked again, lifting her hand from his leg, feeling flustered by her involuntary action. And his heated response.

He put his hand over hers before she could pull it away, wrapping his fingers around hers. "Dead men," he replied, keeping his gaze locked with hers, "if they even think of touching you."

The beat of her heart increased, and her breath hitched in her throat.

"Don't be afraid," he said, his eyes still trained on her, though she knew he was instinctively aware of every move the men made.

"I'm not afraid," she said, and she meant it. Her racing heart had everything to do with Red and nothing to do with the men watching. She had no doubt that Red would protect her from them.

He winked at her. "That's my kitten. You may be small, but you are fierce."

Fierce.

It was a good thing to be, she decided. In the days to come, maybe for all the days of her life, whenever she felt unsure, she would remember the way Red looked at her when he called her "fierce".

"Do you think Toad sent them?" she asked, tipping her head to the side, and grinning up at Red.

He grinned back and rolled his eyes at her. "It's a ridiculous name."

"Aye," she responded with a ripple of laughter. "It's difficult to be afraid of a Toad."