Which meant, hopefully, that he had felt sorry for her and let her sleep rather than he’d taken the opportunity to desert his unwanted charge in the night. Given his reluctance to let her go yesterday, she couldn’t believe it was the latter.
She pushed herself up to a sitting position, paying for the action with the shriek of muscles not used to sleeping on hard, cold ground, and gathered the cloak around her. The lieutenant had fed the fire before he’d left. There was a small log burning solidly enough to shed a little warmth, and she wriggled closer and just sat and soaked up the heat for a few minutes. Which was when she noticed the pile of berries sitting on top of the neatly folded uniform jacket he’d left by what remained of the small stack of wood he’d gathered the previous night.
More blackberries. Her stomach rumbled even as she wished for something else. If the lieutenant’s trip to the village he had mentioned was successful, then perhaps he would bring back something more sustaining.
She ate the berries, then climbed to her feet and ventured down the stream to drink and wash and take care of her other pressing need. Squatting behind a bush with her skirts hiked around her shoulders was far less embarrassing when she knew nobody else was within earshot.
Still, when she returned to the fire, she wished the lieutenant had woken her when he’d left. Then she might have some idea of how long he had been gone and when he would return. Until then, there was nothing she could do except wait. They would be leaving this place, so there was no point looking for more wood, and she really didn’t want to pick more blackberries unless she had to.
She settled back down by the fire, poking idly at it with a branch, watching the low flames flickering. From the position of the sun, still relatively low in the sky, she thought it might still be only eighth hour, maybe ninth. The sun rose near seventh at this time of year, so assuming the lieutenant had left at first light, he might not be much longer. He’d said the village was only a few miles away.
Worry started to gnaw at her stomach. Something could have gone wrong. Anything. What would she do if he didn’t return? She didn’t even know which direction the village was. She could retrace her steps to the road perhaps and then find somewhere with people. Find someone to help her.
Had there been help for those left back at the castle? She’d caught a glimpse of the shattered east tower before Cameron had dragged her back inside Madame de Montesse’s store and away through the portal. People would have died in that explosion. More would have been hurt. And goddess knew what might have happened next. If there was an Illvyan invasion, based on history, there would be carnage.
Worry started to flare into panic. She clenched her hands and made herself breathe, counting back from one hundred in one of the calming exercises Captain Turner had drilled in to her so relentlessly. It helped a little, tamed the fear back to a manageable lead knot in her gut. Distraction, that was what she needed. She started to recite the proper ways to ground to a ley line in her head, over and over again until a jingle of metal snapped her out of her reverie.
She froze, straining. She heard a soft whicker and a creak of leather. A horse. Or horses. The lieutenant? Or someone else? Without thinking, she sprang to her feet and bolted toward the trees at the edge of the clearing, hiding herself behind the thickest trunk she could find.
The sounds grew louder. She peered round the trunk cautiously when she heard the snap of a branch that sounded close enough to come from the clearing itself. Relief washed over her when she recognized the lieutenant. He led two horses and wore a dark brown rough woolen jacket and brown trousers rather than the black ones of his uniform. Camouflage of a sort, she supposed. No point advertising he was a Red Guard if they were trying to go unnoticed.
“Lady Sophia?” he called softly.
She stepped out from the tree, and his expression mirrored the relief she felt. Had he thought she would make a run for it again? Try to get away from him?
“Good morning,” she said when she reached him. “Your errand was successful, then?” She stretched out a hand to the smaller of the two horses, a flat-nosed dun with a pretty black mane and tail. The horse nudged her hand, then snorted, probably disappointed that it didn’t hold any treats. The other horse, a big bay, flicked his ears toward the dun but stayed quiet under the lieutenant’s hands.
“A piece of luck,” he said. “Market day. I got these two and some supplies. You can have some breakfast, and then we’ll be away from here.”
“Was there any news?”
He shook his head. “Nothing definite. They’d had word of the attack, but I couldn’t find out any more. The capital is apparently well locked down.”
“So you don’t think it’s safe to return?” She couldn’t quite keep the disappointment out of her voice.
“No.” He pulled a bundle out of one of the saddlebags on the larger horse’s back and tossed it toward her. “You should change.”
“Change?”
“I got you some breeches. Too hard to find a sidesaddle in these parts.”
Because farmers’ wives and villagers were too sensible to try to ride in skirts just to look elegant. Her mother had insisted that Sophie be taught both ways, and she vastly preferred riding astride, not that she got the chance in Kingswell. Royal ladies rode sedately, dressed in elegant habits. Sophie sometimes wondered if they drugged the horses to stop them getting bored from slow walks around the royal parks with the odd canter if Eloisa was feeling rebellious.
“You can ride astride, I assume?” Cam said.
“Yes.” She nodded. “I can.” Stiff and sore as she was from the night sleeping outdoors, a long ride wasn’t likely to be pleasant. “Where are we bound?”