Page 82 of Under the Mistletoe
Three more chapters and he could walk. Well, Christina had said to put his feelings on the page. Let the readers experience the emotions with the characters. Well, here they were, every last painful one.
Stone of Anwar: Chapter 22
Origin will see us through this.
Nothing like a bald-faced lie to twist your insides and steal your sleep. Maybe when he’d started this journey he’d believed that Origin was on their side. Yet if He was with them, where was He now?
And if Astryn knew that Orin was the last thing on his mind whenever she stood anywhere near him, she wouldn’t understand his need for distance.
Rand scanned the surrounding woods, always alert. He grew edgy with the rising sun. Fewer shadows to hide in. Movement flashed in his periphery to the right, and he halted Calavar. His hand flew to the hilt of his sword just as a mother deer bounded across the path in front of him, followed by her fawn.
Rand rubbed a rough hand over his face. Day after day of hard travel with little sleep and little peace were taking their toll. But by his calculations, they should be in the land of Kenthor and nearing the castle. That is, if he’d remembered correctly from his childhood. It had been years since he’d hunted these woods with his cousins.
Rand glanced back at Astryn. Her eyes struggled against every blink as she swayed forward in the saddle. This journey had been hard on both of them. She carried the weight of Cambria’s safety, and as much as he tried to reassure her, she carried the weight of Orin’s death. The man she admittedly had loved.
Rand turned his horse around and pulled up next to her. Astryn jerked up straight and blinked at him. “Are we stopping?”
“No, we’re close. But I can’t have you falling to the ground.” Rand reached over and lifted her from her saddle, setting her in front of him with her legs off to one side. “Relax into me. I’ll not let you fall.”
Rand tied her mount to his and continued down the path.
Astryn held herself rigid at first, as if being so close irritated her. Probably did. After all, tomorrow should have been the wedding of her dreams.
But soon her fatigue won, and her body melted into his arms, her breathing growing deep and steady. Rand adjusted her weight in his arms so she wouldn’t slip to the side. Nothing had ever felt so right. “Things could have been so different if we were two regular people. If I were just a boy and you a girl in my village. I wouldn’t have let another man look at you, even my brother.”
“You never fought with Orin.” He stilled at her mumbled words. Had she heard him? Was she awake, or was this her talking in her sleep? When she snuggled her head just below where his shoulder met his neck, her breathing steady, he breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she was half awake, but he doubted she’d remember the conversation. And talking felt good after three days of forced silence.
“I did, actually.” He kept his voice low and soft as a smile tugged at his lips. “I liked Marisia, and I thought she liked me. Maybe she did, but Orin was the future king. So when he showed a little interest—what can I say—I lost my shine. Orin was heir, I was the spare.”
She ran her hand over his chest, the movement sending a bit of fire though him. “I was never wanted. My parents loved me, but they wanted a boy. The whole country wanted a boy. No one has ever really wanted me, they just get stuck with me.”
Rand’s heart thudded in his ears as he placed a kiss on her forehead. His voice was ragged and raw. “You are wanted, Astryn. Very wanted.”
Her eyes fluttered open. A crease appeared between her eyes as if trying to separate truth from dreamland. “Rand?”
“Halt!” A strong voice shouted from behind.
Rand started to turn his horse, but the voice came again. “Don’t move.”
The foliage around him shifted, and long spears emerged inches from him.
Rand’s blood ran cold. He’d been so distracted he’d let someone get the jump on him. And with Astryn across his lap, he couldn’t even get to his sword. He’d try the diplomatic approach. “I mean you no harm. I am passing through, trying to reach my mother’s family in the Kenthorian castle.”
“Youhave family in the castle?” The sneer in the voice set Rand’s nerves on edge. But what did he expect? They were dressed as peasants and hadn’t seen a bath or brush in several days.
“I am Rand of Anathia, and this is…” He swallowed, not sure who he was talking to at the moment. “This is my wife. We seek shelter and an audience with?—”
“Rand?” An older version of the cousin he’d once hunted with within these very woods appeared to his left. “Rand, it is you. Why are you dressed like that? Forget it. I have a feeling my father will want to hear all, and you both look as if you could use a rest.”
Twenty men stepped from the woods, cloaked in pale green that matched the foliage and each with a solid black braid trailing down from their nape. The symbol of a Kenthorian warrior. Timus was right, he couldn’t have missed it.
The men headed toward the castle, and Rand fell in line. He glanced down at Astryn and found her studying him. What did she remember?
He held himself rigid and forced the gentleness from his voice. “Sleep, Astryn. We will be there soon.”
She settled back against him as her eyes fluttered shut once more. “Do you love me, Rand?”
Her breathing evened out, and she was once again asleep.
