Page 41 of His Summer Prince

A million thoughts swarmed Wren’s mind. What had happened in the faerie realm that he wasn’t aware of? Had Elior called off the betrothal and now his mother was hunting him? Where could they go? But all Wren said was, “All right.”

He’d do anything for Elior, no questions asked. They were one. Whatever had happened, Elior had done something reckless for the two of them; Wren just knew it. What else could it be? They were in trouble, but as long as they were together, he didn’t care.

“We need to return to camp, pack our bags, grab the other horse and make a run for it.”

Wren climbed onto his steed and held out a hand to help Elior up. “How long will we be gone for?”

Elior swallowed. “We’re not coming back.” He took Wren’s hand and leaped onto the horse, settling in behind him. His firm body pressed into Wren’s back; his arms wrapped around his waist. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I knew you were up to something. Whatever you did, you did it for us.”

“I did it for myself,” Elior said, an edge of sadness and loss creeping into the bond. He tightened his hold on Wren and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “I did it because I don’t want to spend another day without you.”

Wren swallowed the lump in his throat and spurred the horse. They raced across the fields, Elior’s urgency flowing into him.

“We can’t take the sheep or the hut,” Elior said into his ear. “I’m sorry. They’d slow us down too much.”

A knot formed in Wren’s stomach. He’d looked after the flock for as long as he’d remembered. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for Elior, but…

“I know I’m asking for a lot,” Elior said with pain in his voice. He, too, cared about the sheep.

“We can put them in the pen, and I’ll send a letter to my mother telling her that someone needs to fetch them.”

“I’ll pay to have them collected. I put us in this situation, and I don’t want your family to suffer the consequences.”

“What about Toby?” Wren asked. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind, even if it was to protect the flock. Toby had been his steady companion through many lonely winters. If he had to choose between him and Elior, it’d be no choice at all, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“He can keep up with the horses. I wouldn’t want to leave him behind either; you know that.”

Reaching the camp, they hurried to pack their most important belongings—blankets, waterskins, food and other necessary supplies. Toby picked up on their nervous energy and ran between them, barking.

With a heavy heart, Wren said goodbye to the flock. He hugged an older ewe that’d been with him since he was a boy. The scent of animal and hay tickled his nose as he petted the short wool of her back. When he let go and stood, he regardedher, the flock, and the shepherd’s hut for a long moment. This had been his life; it was all he’d known.

If Elior asked him to leave it behind, he had good reason. Elior knew how much the shepherd’s life meant to him. He wouldn’t ask him to abandon it if it wasn’t necessary.

If Wren was honest, he knew it would’ve come to this sooner or later. The orcs were moving north. They’d raided Mendham, meaning Hurst would be next, and then Upper Fairstead. Wren would’ve had to herd the sheep north and then what? There was only so far north Elior could follow him.

He tore away and saddled the second horse. Whistling at Toby to follow them, Wren threw a last glance over his shoulder, and then he and Elior rode off side by side, Toby jogging along.

“Where are we going?” Wren asked.

“West, over the hills into the Arun Valley.” Elior nodded toward the gently rising slope to their left. “Thank you for trusting me. I know I’m asking everything of you.”

A small smile crept across Wren’s lips. “You are everything to me.”

The wind blew small, white clouds across the sky as Wren and Elior ascended the hill. Toby kept running ahead only to look back and wait, panting with his tongue out, eager to continue the journey.

Across the hills, they stopped in the village of Wilhelm’s Gate. Elior paid a farmer a handsome sum to collect the flock and herd it to Wren’s parents, threatening the wrath of the Summer Court if he double-crossed them. The poor man swore on his mother’s grave that they could trust him. Wren thanked the heavens that people feared fae.

He wrote a brief letter, informing his mother of the situation, expressing his goodbyes to his parents and sisters. The way Elior was talking, he wasn’t sure if he’d see them again.

Leaving Wilhelm’s Gate behind, Elior pressed the horses andToby for speed, scarcely allowing short rests. Only in the late evening, when the sun was about to set, did he declare they’d traveled far enough to stop for the night.

The animals were worn out, drinking greedily from the river where Elior had decided to break their journey. Wren prepared a simple porridge, giving Toby a generous portion. They’d had an exhausting day, and judging by how Elior kept scanning the horizon for danger, the next wouldn’t be any better.

Toby scarfed down his food and then fell asleep, Wren petting him. He couldn’t bear not knowing any longer. He patted the space on the blanket next to him, and Elior, sensing what was coming, sat down with visible apprehension.

“You need to tell me what happened,” Wren said as Elior shuffled closer. “You’ve been spurring me on all day, and I still have no idea what’s going on.”

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