Chapter Six

G od help her, but every nerve in her body was snapping with the exhilaration of the moment.

Of course, she was horrified that she had stumbled upon a treasonous plot to kill the heir to the English crown, but she felt more alive than she had in three years. She had definitely found an adventure, and the weight of it was tremendous, with the life of a child hanging in the balance. She would not fail in her mission to get to the queen before anyone could harm her son. There was too much weighing on the success of the mission.

But also, she wouldn't fail because it would be the modicum of redemption she needed for her own failure as a mother.

Admittedly, much of her excitement was the result of the man sitting across from her, holding her hand in his. She couldn't deny that she felt safe in his presence, and charmed by his easy, confident manner. Nor could she deny she'd been momentarily saddened, thinking about her future. If the missive had been nothing of import, he would have left Oswestry—and her—to continue on with his duties, and she would have been left behind to continue her mundane existence. But the anticipation she felt because her time with Red was not yet over felt like a betrayal to the husband who had always been kind and loving to her, had done everything he could to please her, and who had been taken from her too soon. She had loved him, loved their life together on the little farm, cherished being a mother, and been contented as Adam's wife.

She knew the church and society expected her to marry again, to find a husband who could provide for her so she would not be a burden to others, but she hadn't been able to do it. She barely survived on the wages she earned helping at the tavern and preparing the rooms above for travelers, but her pride would not allow her to beg for food or live off of charity. And she'd not even considered taking another man as her husband or trying to have a family again. It would feel too much like she was abandoning Adam and Nahara. There was no one else to remember them. If she didn't keep the memory of them alive in her heart and mind, then they would be forever gone, just like her father.

A reassuring squeeze of her hand brought her back to the present and she looked up to see Red studying her, his face etched with concern. He caught her gaze and held it, staring at her intently while he waited patiently for her to decide to continue. This man, with his ice-blue eyes that crinkled in the corners when he smiled his lopsided grin was dangerous to her. She felt herself thawing in his presence, felt her heart beginning to beat again, and felt the ember of hope that there was more for her in this life than what she'd lost burning deep within.

Anora broke into Galiena's thoughts. "Is what's in the parchment enough to convince the king that what Galiena overheard was true?"

Red splayed the parchment out on the table for everyone to see. Galiena, Anora, and Hunter all bent their heads forward to look at the rows of neat writing. The letters were so small that Galiena had to squint to see them clearly.

"I don't recognize the language," Galiena said, trying to make any sense of the letters and symbols. Because of her father's work as a merchant, it had been necessary to learn how to read and write rudimentary bits of the languages from many of the countries on the continent and the Mediterranean, but she couldn't decipher this.

"It's code," Hunter said.

Galiena gently pulled her hand from Red's, then turned the parchment to see from the correct angle, using both hands to hold it open. It was only a few finger widths wide, and about as long as Galiena's hand from the tip of her longest finger to her wrist. Inspecting the missive more closely, she recognized the letters from the Latin alphabet, used throughout Britain, but here they didn't form any discernable words and were interspersed with symbols made of patterns of dots.

"The boy is tired, but his stomach is rumbling," Frode said from the doorway to the shop.

Galiena had been so fascinated by the coded missive, she hadn't heard Frode enter. Red slid the parchment out from under her fingertips and rolled it back into a tight scroll as Tommy pushed past Frode into the room.

In a panic, she grabbed Red's hands before he could tuck the scroll under his cloak. "No. I must keep it." She would not let the missive out of her sight. Red and Hunter knew all that she did about the two men and the overheard conversation, and the only leverage she had remaining was the missive. If they had that, too, then they did not need her to warn the king of the danger. She knew it was selfish to insist she be the one to take the journey, but she felt in her heart that she must do this, as one mother to another, even if one of them was the queen of England. She also knew that Red could overpower her and take the missive if he so desired, but she was counting on him to keep his word and prove himself trustworthy.

Red slid the parchment back toward her with a nod, much to Galiena's relief.

Anora stood. "I will put a stew over the fire," she said moving to the hearth along the back wall.

The flames had burned down to embers and the early winter chill was seeping through the walls. She'd left her cloak behind at the inn in her haste to escape, but the fear and exhilaration from overhearing the men in the alley, stealing the pouch, encountering Red, and running through the lanes to elude her pursuer had kept her warm—or at least, distracted from the cold.

She shivered now, as much from the chill in the air as from the growing realization of the danger she was in and that her life would never be the same again.

And if she wasn't careful, it may also be very, very short.

*

"This is the boy who used to tell me stories about his travels with his father?" Anora asked, looking at her father wide-eyed while gesturing toward Galiena.

Frode nodded. "Aye, the same."

They were sitting at the cleared end of the worktable near the warmth from the hearth, their bellies full. Tommy had finally grown tired, and Anora had put him to sleep in Frode's bed, which meant they also finally had a break from his incessant questions and boyish proclamations about his ability to take care of himself. It took some convincing, and a stern look from Red, to get the boy to agree to stay hidden at the goldsmith shop until they were certain his life was no longer in danger from the men in the alley. He'd protested during the bath that Anora insisted he take before getting into her father's bed but had relented when Anora reminded him that he'd agreed to the bath in exchange for the second large bowl of stew he'd somehow fit into his scrawny body. Red and Hunter were leaning against the wall on the other end of the room, as far away from them as possible, speaking in low murmurs.

Galiena had rarely discussed her childhood with anyone except her husband after her father died. Because of the vulnerability of being a woman traveling, her father had started dressing her as a boy from a young age.

"It's little wonder we became such fast friends when I met you as a grown woman. We already knew each other!" Anora put a hand over one of Galiena's. Her smile faded after a moment, and she surprised Galiena by giving her hand a gentle slap. "Why did you not tell me who you were when we met?"

Galiena blushed. "To be honest, I did not recognize you until you brought me here and I met your father. Then the memories of the few times I was in your shop as a child came rushing back. But you and your father had known me as a boy, and I wasn't sure if you remembered the times my father visited. Staying quiet about it was easier than explaining."

Red had straddled the bench next to Galiena and she suddenly felt overly warm, as though she was being suffocated. She looked pointedly at his knees on either side of the bench, one touching her knee and the other pressed intimately close to her hip as he sat facing her, then lifted her disapproving gaze to his innocent-appearing one. When he didn't get the hint from her glare that he was acting far too familiar for a man she hardly knew, she said, "There is ample room on this bench for you to sit a respectable distance away."

"If we are to travel together and pass as husband and wife, we should start acting the parts now," he replied, the skin around his eyes crinkling as his mouth lifted into that grin that she was finding more annoying than charming at this moment. Did this man take nothing seriously?

"No," she said pushing at his leg with her hand in a wasted attempt to get him to move. "We may have to travel together but we need not be this intimate. Or pretend to be married."

The decision had been made that Red and Galiena would leave before dawn on a course for Llanbadarn Gaerog on the west coast of central Wales. Hawkspur Castle was near the main road leading into central Wales, and they would rest there the first night. Red would request additional men from Hawk to ride with them into Wales to intercept the king and queen before an assassin got to their son, God willing.

"We will attract less attention if we tell others we are married, so I suggest you get comfortable with having me close," he insisted, obviously enjoying her discomfort.

"Not this close." She shoved against his chest with all her might.

He didn't budge. "For your own safety, you won't be staying in a separate room at the inns along the way, but the story will be your decision," he said with a shrug. "Of course, we can let everyone at the inns assume you are a harlot I've purchased for the night." His eyes crinkled and twinkled even as Galiena tried to push at him again. "But that story will make us more memorable. Or we can travel as man and wife. No one will care about that."

Annoying man. Before she could press the point further Red had turned his attention to Hunter, but he hadn't budged from his place beside her and had seemingly decided her protests were nothing to worry about.

"Unless you know where we can find another horse this time of night, we will need to take yours," Red said to Hunter.

"You can have it," Hunter readily agreed. "I'll find another."

It was Red's turn to be amused. "It's not like you to give up your mount so readily. How long are you planning to stay here?"

Galiena looked back and forth between the two warriors, wondering what the unsaid, but obviously understood, message was between them. It was as though they were having an entirely different conversation with the tones, looks, and gestures that passed between them at times.

"Until I know Frode, Anora, and Tommy are not in danger."

Had Galiena blinked, she would have missed the almost imperceptible glance Hunter directed toward Anora. She would have put it down to a twitch in his eyes, except she heard his muffled "oomph" that he tried to cover up as a cough and felt the movement of Red's leg as he kicked his friend under the table. Anora, as was true to her nature, was completely oblivious to the antics of the two men.

"Awfully chivalric of you," Red said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

Galiena would have sworn she saw the taciturn warrior's cheeks redden lightly in the flickering candlelight.

"Frode, if you permit," Hunter said, "I will stay here until we are sure no one comes nosing around your shop looking for Galiena or the boy."

"You know you are welcome here," Frode agreed. "Sumayl is always on alert, but he will not turn away your added protection."

"Tommy will be difficult to keep under your roof," Galiena warned. "He'll get restless trapped inside and he'll sneak out if you don't tie him down. But I fear for him."

"I will keep him busy," Frode assured her.

That decided, Hunter looked at Galiena. "Do you know how to ride?" he asked.

"Yes," she said after a hesitation. She'd not ridden often, but she'd spent countless hours driving her father's wagon and she was not afraid of horses. Though she couldn't exactly recall when exactly the last time was that she rode on a horse, she felt sure it wouldn't be too difficult.

"He likes a light hand," Hunter said, his face etched with concern. "And whatever you do, don't kick his sides to make him walk or you'll be flat on your back in the mud and he'll be a furlong away before you catch your breath."

She swallowed a lump of anxiety, but she wouldn't let her fear deter her. Getting to the queen before something disastrous happened to her son was more important than her apprehension about being able to stay put in the saddle. She'd just have to hang on for dear life and make it work because the life of a child depended on it.

"Stand up," Red directed Galiena as he took to his feet. She looked at him warily, wondering what he planned to do. She didn't rise quick enough for his liking apparently because the next thing she knew he had scooped her from the bench and had her cradled in his arms. He bobbed her up and down in his arms a few times as though measuring her weight.

"Put me down, you ox!" she protested, trying to escape his grasp to no avail.

"She isn't much heavier than a pair of saddle bags. If we take the barest of provisions, Hammer can carry both of us, at least until we get to Hawkspur, and I can find a suitable mount for her." Red set her back down on the bench.

"I prefer to ride a separate horse," Galiena said, feeling very indignant about being picked up like a sack of flour, and then plopped down.

"If you are not an experienced rider, Hunter's horse is not for you," Red said with a shake of his head as he took his place beside her again. This time, he sat facing forward on the bench instead of straddling it, but he was still sitting entirely too close for Galiena's comfort.

"I will hang on tight." She tried to elbow him a bit as she wriggled to make more room on the bench, but other than a smirk, he ignored her.

"Red is right, it will be better if you both ride Hammer," Hunter said. "The huge ox you call a horse will hardly notice another rider."

"You should get some rest," Frode interrupted, directing his comment toward Galiena. "The days ahead may be grueling."

Galiena didn't know if she could actually sleep with all the events of the day rolling around in her head, but she would at least try. The concern that was currently foremost on her mind was that she needed her cloak and at least one additional chemise and tunic from her little cottage. "Is it possible to go to my home before we leave so that I may get a change of clothing and my sturdier boots?" She really didn't have much hope for it, but she had to ask.

Red was shaking his head before she could even finish her question. "Can you give her some clothing and boots, Anora?"

Galiena laughed softly. "Have you not looked at us side by side? Even if we could hem one of her gowns, I cannot leave her without a cloak. Which would also need to be hemmed lest I ruin it by dragging it through the mud."

"You can't be that different in height," Red said, looking truly perplexed.

She stared at him, speechless. Had he really not noticed Anora and how different she was in height and appearance? Galiena didn't necessarily dislike her own short stature and curvy body, but she envied her friend's height and beauty. Anora was stunningly tall and willowy, with pale gold hair, sapphire blue eyes, and a ready smile. How anyone could not see the differences between them was beyond her.

"We can find you a cloak at Hawkspur, and there is a shoemaker who can make you boots," Red responded, seemingly confident he had resolved the issue.

"Am I to freeze until we get to Hawkspur? And we cannot wait an extra day while boots are constructed. We don't have the time. The queen's child doesn't have the time."

"You cannot go back to your cottage." The words were firm, but his expression was sympathetic. "I know you want your own things, but if the men you saw have even half a brain between them, they have learned your name and where you live. And they will be watching for you to return. I'll keep you warm under my cloak until we get to Hawkspur."

Galiena let out a frustrated sigh.

"Come with me," Anora said, rising from the table. "Let us see what we can find for you for the journey. And if you will be sitting astride a horse for long days, I suggest you wear braies under your tunic. We still have my brother's clothing in a chest upstairs. Perhaps we can make something of his work for you."

"Galiena," Frode said in a quiet voice. "Will you leave the missive with us, dear?"

She hesitated, fearful that once she gave it up Red would think he no longer needed her for the journey to the king.

"You will have it back," Frode promised. "But I may be of some assistance in this, even with my failing eyes."

She was too indebted to Frode to refuse him. Reaching into her tunic, to the pouch tied to her belt, she removed the scrap of parchment and placed it in his hand, giving his fingers a squeeze before letting go.

Turning to Red, she pointed a finger at him, schooled her face into the sternest expression she could muster, and said in her most commanding voice, "I am trusting you not to betray me and leave without me."

"I would not think of it, Wife."

She bristled at the endearment, but his serious expression and the hand he placed over his heart reassured her…somewhat.

*

The desperation he heard in Galiena's voice, mixed with the fear he saw in her eyes, tugged at Red's heart. Obviously, she had more reason than just devotion to the monarchy compelling her to deliver the missive and the warning to the king and queen.

He watched as Anora took her by the hand and led her from the room. Though he could have traveled faster without her, he wouldn't leave her behind; this was too important to her, even if he didn't understand all the reasons why. He didn't doubt his ability to protect her.

When the women were gone, leaving only Hunter and Frode in the room with him, Red turned to his friend. "Is her hooded man one and the same as the man we seek?"

Hunter nodded solemnly and Red felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. He'd been looking for this man for the two decades he'd been in Britain. As a youth, he'd stepped off the ship onto English soil, and not even two full days had passed until The Executioner tried to take his life. His gut twisted with sharp anguish as he thought of his mother and uncle. They had not been as fortunate. They did not live to see another day, but Red had lived, each day since a reminder that he had survived and they had not. That he had failed to protect them. For a long time, he'd wished he'd died with his family instead of living with this need for vengeance that had taken root in his chest, eating at him for nigh these twenty-something years so that he could not rest until he found the man responsible for his anguish.

The Executioner. It was an apt name for a man so ruthless and cold.

"You will have your vengeance," Hunter reminded him, "but now he is involved in a treasonous plot that goes beyond him. With patience, we will get your man and the men plotting against the king."

Red ground his teeth together in frustration. Over a year ago, in a state of desperation and intoxication after nearly two decades of searching for the killer, he had turned to Hunter and his uncanny tracking skills for assistance. The man was the ultimate predator, and likely the deadliest man in all of Britain. He was privileged to call Hunter a friend instead of an adversary. Since he was his friend, he decided to beg the favor of helping him complete his quest for vengeance in the hope it would put the constant tightness in his chest to rest.

"Now that we found him, restrain yourself," Hunter warned. "Your best move is to get that missive to the king and find out who is behind it. Then you will have The Executioner and the men planning treason against His Grace."

Red inhaled deeply, letting the sagacity of Hunter's words penetrate the part of him that wanted to ignore all good sense and find the man to rip him from limb to limb. If he truly wanted to avenge his mother and uncle, then his every move needed to be timed and calculated.

"Can you understand the code in the missive?" Red asked Hunter, turning his attention back to the message that might not only save the king's heir but also reveal the identity of The Executioner.

"I know the basics of decoding and have not used the skill for some time," he admitted.

Red leaned forward for a clearer view as Hunter spread the missive out on the table next to a plate of candles. As before, the combinations of letters and symbols did not make any sense to Red, and he feared that the only way to break the code was with a translation key—which only the author of the message and the intended recipient would have.

"There's definitely a pattern," Hunter murmured, studying the parchment. "It appears to be typical code with the dot patterns replacing specific letters. A common method of coding is to substitute the vowels with symbols or patterns. And to shift the other letters one or two positions in either direction the order of the alphabet."

Red pointed toward two sets of dot patterns near the bottom of the missive. "These dots look more like minuscule circles rather than actual dots. Does that mean anything?"

Frode laughed appreciatively. "You're no fool, Red. I am beginning to think Galiena may have chosen well."

"I knew that stoicism was hiding a deep appreciation for my wit and charm," Red said, clapping Frode on the shoulder.

"You have the wit and charm of a boar's balls," Hunter said with a smirk.

"Gads, how I have missed this." Frode cackled with merriment, wiping at his eyes. "I was once part of King Henry's army and I have some knowledge of the skills required for covert activities. Ah, but I miss the comradery and the excitement of those days." His face took on a wistful expression for a moment. "But let us return to the task at hand. Tell me about the circle dots. Are they throughout the message, or clustered together?"

"They are together," Hunter confirmed. "And they look to make up numbers, likely as part of a date. Looks like two numbers followed by a word and then four more numbers." He huffed out a sigh as he stared at the parchment. "Deciphering this by morn is possible—but there's work to do yet this night, if the men from the alley are still here."

Red narrowed his eyes at Hunter. "You think you can find them?"

"If they're still in Oswestry, I'll find them."

"I'll go with you," Red responded, knowing Hunter would never allow it—he worked alone. In this, Red would be a hindrance more than a help. Which is exactly what the tolerant smirk Hunter threw his way conveyed.

"The men are looking for you and the lady; they know nothing of me. Stay here and do what you do best."

"Which is?" Frode asked.

"Watching over the ladies. You've always preferred courting to killing."

"You have always envied my ability to do more than grunt at a woman, turn the color of an apple, and then run away," Red said with a wink. "I'll be happy to teach you the ways of wooing a lady."

"No need," Hunter grunted, turning away from Red, but not before he saw the color rise in his friend's cheeks. Hunter rose from the table and searched for something on the work bench along the wall. A moment later, he returned with a piece of parchment, a quill, and a small bottle. He pushed the items toward Red, then turned the original parchment in his direction. "Make a copy of the missive while I'm out. You'd never guess it, Frode, but this lumbering lout has a steady hand with the quill."

Red studied the minuscule writing and symbols. "The letters aren't a problem, and I'll try to get the symbols as near as possible."

"The words on each line and the letter or symbol placement are also significant," Frode said. "The letter or word arrangement top to bottom can be as important as the order left to right."

"Good to know," Red acknowledged, opening the bottle of ink, and setting to work while Hunter slipped out the back door. He kept his head down, eyes focused on the task.

"Even a blind man can see the way Hunter is flustered around my daughter," Frode said, his voice wary. "Need I be concerned about having him under my roof, even if for only a few nights?"

"No," Red said with a shake of his head. "Hunter would never do anything to disgrace your daughter. He has too much self-control and values his honor above all else."

"And you?" Frode pressed. "Need I worry about Galiena's honor while in your company?"

Red stilled his hand and lifted his head to look at Frode. "I will treat her with honor, but I intend to make her mine."

"Already? When you've known her only this day?"

"Aye." Galiena running into his arms, looking at him with those mesmerizing eyes as she called him husband, and having the nerve to argue with him had sealed her fate to him as far as he was concerned. "My intentions are true and honest. She may not have admitted it to herself yet, but we are destined to be together, and I will not be deterred."

"Let an old man give you some advice," Frode said with a soft chuckle. "Give her a little room to breathe and let her come to you."

Red didn't like that advice. He had always said what he felt and taken what he wanted. Granted, when it came to women, he'd yet to find one he wanted to keep. But that had changed on this day.

"I can tell you will not be heeding my advice."

"I will think about it," Red promised.

"Galiena has no one left in her life who cares for her other than Anora, and now me. As such, I feel it is my duty to let you know that if I suspect you have tried to force her or coerce her, I will have Sumayl break your neck." Frode's face was hard as stone, and his voice was as sharp as a blade. His eyes may be unseeing, but his message was clear.

"Aye, sir," Red responded, an unfamiliar discomfort coming over him. They were not the harsh words Red expected from the old man, but he respected him for it. He hadn't been chastised in this way since he was a young man with nothing but a patchy beard on his chin. Hawk had been the only man Red had agreed to take orders from in nigh on twenty years. It gave him comfort to know Galiena had a man like Frode looking after her. As much as it galled him to capitulate to a man he'd known for an even shorter time than he'd known Galiena, he would do it.

For her.