Page 63 of Stolen

Laurent turned to me. “As I said, Aberwas is not an option.”

I gave him a stony stare.

He ordered the knights back into position and started us moving again. I waited for him to say more, but he was quiet as we left the forest behind and entered the grassy stretch of land that divided Wesyfedd and Nor Doru.

His silence didn’t last.

As we drew near the Rift, he motioned for our escort to fall back. And, suddenly, I was alone with my husband for the first time since our rushed conversation in his Council chamber.

“That’s an interesting sword,” he said quietly.

I looked at him. His gaze was pinned on a spot on the horizon, his handsome face wreathed by his heavy black hood. It made him look like the priest he was. I could never forget that again. “My great-great-grandmother gave it to me.”

“Hmm. I think it’s scaring my men.”

“Good.”

He turned to me at last, and that bemused expression touched his features again. Perhaps he’d decided to find me clever, too. I didn’t fool myself into thinking he found me threatening.

“Rhys the Fair seemed disappointed to see you go.”

I let my disgust show on my face. “If you want to accuse me of some sort of impropriety, just say it. I never took you for someone who hides behind insinuation.”

His eyes widened, but he recovered quickly. “I’m not accusing you.”

“Well, you’re doing a bad job of showing it.”

“I’m not accusing you.” He huffed. “You have better taste than Rhys the Fair.”

After everything, I couldn’t believe he’d chosen to focus on this. “Are you really jealous of Rhys? Or are you just irritated that I might actually prefer living apart from you? As in, separate cities.”

His eyes darkened. He started to speak, then clamped his mouth shut, falling silent once more. We rode that way for a moment, the muted sounds of jangling harnesses and the knights’ murmured voices behind us.

“I am jealous,” he said after a minute, drawing my gaze again. He looked at me, and he smiled a little at the surprise that must have shown on my face. “You wanted to go to Aberwas. You looked happy when you saw the bandit king.”

His smile was dangerous—and I definitely hadn’t learned my lesson because a faint tendril of heat unfurled within me. I looked away before the sensation could grow. “Don’t call him that. His men saved my life. Mine and Varick’s. You should be grateful, not jealous.”

“I know,” Laurent said, a curious note in his voice.

I stared into the distance and wished he’d stop looking at me. It was on the tip of my tongue to suggest he ride to the front to be with Varick, but I swallowed the words. That would make me sound jealous—and petty. And I wasn’t jealous. I knew what I’d gotten myself into when I wed Laurent. I was never going to come between him and Varick, and I didn’t want to. But seeing them reunited so swiftly after Eldenvalla was a shock I hadn’t prepared for.

I’d been stupid not to. Laurent and Varick had been together for two decades. What was that compared to a handful of stolen hours in a sod hut? It was nothing. Laurent proved it when he stuck me in one tent and summoned Varick to another.

“Given,” he said quietly.

My face was hot again, even though the sunlight seemed more muted now. I knew he’d see my flushed cheeks if I looked at him, but I also knew he’d pester me until I did. One way or another, Laurent always got his wish.

With that bitter thought, I turned to him at last. “Yes, my lord.”

He frowned. “Don’t do that.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Or that.”

I sighed. “What do you want, Laurent?”

He pulled his hood down, and I noticed his gloves, which made me recall his injury. Another wedge between us. He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he appeared to gather his thoughts, like he was arranging words in his head before he said them aloud. “I took the coward’s way out by speaking to Varick first today. He knows me better, and…he loves me despite having a hundred reasons not to.” Laurent flashed a sardonic smile. “Maybe a thousand reasons.”

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