The Greenwood Shadow (29 page)

"Fine," she said in a scathing voice, "But I want you on one side and John on the other the whole time. Got it? Will can do rear guard, and I'll do point. Don't you dare leave his side, or I'll make sure you know EXACTLY how he feels. Down to the broken arrowhead."

Even David swallowed hard at the threat. She meant every word of it, and he knew it. The prince nodded at her and walked back to John, where he relayed the message and the plan. John remained passive. By this point, he was used to her.

Isaiah had used all his strength in his stupid, stubborn display. That, along with his weakened muscles, made walking harder than expected. It took ten minutes before he could take steps with his full weight.

Secretly Evey was glad that they had gotten him standing. If he sat unmoving for many more weeks, his legs would be even worse.

As usual, Evey scouted ahead, all the while wondering how Isaiah was doing. She hoped that the exertion wouldn't be too much for him. She had to repeatedly re-focus herself on the job at hand. She wouldn't do anyone any good as a scout if she walked blindly into danger.

They walked as far as they could before Isaiah finally called for a stop. Evey didn't think that they had even gone a mile, but a mile in this part of the forest would make all the difference. As far as she knew, there was only one person in the country that could navigate the place with complete accuracy, and she was it. Will and Isaiah weren't bad, but she never forgot a tree. Never lost a trail. Not even down here in the south.

At least, not until recently. She was still baffled at her sudden lack of concentration. She wanted to talk to Isaiah about it. He always had answers. But she was still mad at him, and he was too tired anyway.

But if she couldn't talk to Isaiah, who could she go to? John and Will were good friends now, but it wasn't quite what she needed. An image of Emeric suddenly popped into her mind, and she realized exactly how long it had been since she had seen him. He deserved to know that she was still alive, for now. It would only take a few days, and then she would return.

But she couldn't leave Isaiah. He was stupid, and stubborn, and completely annoying, but what if his injuries got worse again? What if the fever came back? She had to be there, just in case.

Hours later, she was still so distracted that she didn't notice Isaiah studying her closely. She only realized it when he finally cleared his throat. She looked over, surprised to see him fully awake, and with that knowing expression that she was so familiar with.

"What?" she asked irritably.

"I'm sorry for yelling."

Her annoyance dissolved a little. "Well... you should be. You were stupid."

He cracked a small grin. "I know."

After several difficult seconds, Evey said, "I'm sorry too."

Instant relief. The argument was stupid. Fighting over stupid things was stupid. Especially with Isaiah. He never argued about anything. It was just evidence of how sick he had been. Pain could make anyone edgy.

There was less to think about, but she still felt the need to go see Emeric. She didn't entirely know why. Call it intuition. Call it homesickness. Whatever. She needed to go home. But that still left Isaiah. What to do?

He touched her knee. She jumped a little.

"You're thinking about home. And your uncle," Isaiah said.

"How on earth?" she spluttered.

He did his best imitation of a shrug, which ended up being little more than a shoulder twitch, and said, "I could just tell. I don't really know how."

"Well, yeah. I was."

"You should go see him. It's been a whole month."

"No."

"Yes."

She set her jaw. "I won't leave you here. What if you get attacked again? What if your wounds get worse? What if–"

"I'll be fine," he interrupted. "David, John, and Will are competent men. But even if I got sicker, what could you do to change it?"

"I..." she started stubbornly, but then realized he was right. "I don't know. But I can't leave you just because I feel like a vacation."

"Go."

"I can't."

"I won't listen to excuses. You're stressed. Distracted. Tired. I don't want to see you that way. For me, will you go home till I'm better?"

His tousled hair and mischievous expression made him hard to argue with. It also made her less willing to leave him. She shook her head stubbornly, and started to protest, but he interrupted again.

"A week, then. I want you to feel better. Please?"

His sincere face sealed the deal. She nodded her consent.

"But only a week. Not a minute longer."

"I can live with that."

A short time later, she made her excuses to the others and set off with the spare horse.

She rode at an easy canter, and stayed just clear of the roads. There was a lot of time to just think. Normally a little solitude was all she needed to sort things out. But this time, there was just too much.

Once during the journey she noticed a familiar carriage running parallel to her, but on the road. She rolled her eyes and whispered aloud, "Well, well. Sir Robert. Fancy seeing you here."

She sped up slightly and rode just ahead of him.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

"Sir Robert will get here today."

Emeric jumped a foot in the air as she spoke. He turned to see her standing right behind his chair, and he shook his head.

"How? What? My desk faces the door..."

She just shrugged, and grinned.

He shook his head. "I'm so glad to see you here. I know you told me you'd be a while, but I got nervous all the same. How are you?"

"Bad," she answered. She took her mask off and shook out her hair.

"Bad? How so? Are you hurt? Let me see."

His concern brought a brief smile to her face.

"I'm not injured. I promise. But Isaiah... he almost didn't make it."

"What happened?" He sat back in his chair. She shot him a shifty look before she decided to answer.

"Shot. Three crossbows. But it was the fever..."

"Mary and Joseph!"

Emeric pulled her into a tight hug that she didn't even try to resist. He knew, if anyone did, how much a fever like that scared her.

He winked, so she'd know he was trying to make her feel better. "They actually hit something, then? That should be a first."

Again she cracked a brief smile. "Point blank range, and they still didn't actually manage to kill him."

"That's... Oh my. Let's hope we're not invaded any time soon."

Evey couldn't decide how much to tell him.

"Maybe I shouldn't have come here. It could be, um... dangerous," she blurted lamely.

"I'm sorry, Evelyne. I shouldn't make jokes. Is he really going to be okay?"

She sank into the extra chair. "Yes. I think so. He can't walk on his own, yet, but he seems to be healing quickly. At least the fever broke."

Emeric studied her with a suddenly discerning look before saying, "I see. But that's not what you were confused about."

"Who said I was confused?"

"Evelyne, I was young once, too."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He was her uncle, not her interrogator. He acted like he could understand, but how could he possibly? She was nothing like him.

Emeric cleared his throat. "You're losing focus on things you normally do well. You can't stop thinking about certain other things. You're making mistakes you would never usually make. And you feel, well, like a herd of deer decided to migrate through your insides."

Evey stared at him wide-eyed.

She shrugged. "So?"

"I was in love once too," he said gently.

"How could you accuse me like that?"

All along, she thought Emeric was finally starting to understand her, and now this. Didn't he know that she always kept her word? She always did her best to follow through on her promises. Why didn't he trust her?

Emeric raised his hands defensively. "Accuse? What?"

"I can't believe you don't trust me.

She stormed out of the office, leaving Emeric to mutter after her.

Still... she really did feel like a herd of deer had stampeded through her.

She wanted to shoot all the arrows she had into the curtain over the window, just to see it tear. Shooting things always helped. Unfortunately she had already stored the bow and arrows in her customary hiding place.

Instead, she sat in the window, staring at nothing. She tried to think, but nothing could keep her focus. What on earth was happening to her? Was it all a part of getting older? The only thing she decided concretely is that she hated being sixteen.

She was almost seventeen. Only two more months. She hoped that things might be less muddled and confusing after her birthday, but she somehow doubted it. Seventeen seemed like it might be a worse age than sixteen. She groaned and hid her face against her knees.

The sound of horses' hooves interrupted her attempted contemplation, and she looked out to see Sir Robert's carriage approaching.

"That's exactly who I wanted to see today," she mumbled.

She resolved to be as disagreeable as she could, which wouldn't be terribly difficult. Maybe, if she was awful enough, neither Robert would insist on talking to her. She purposely put on her most hideous dress and unlocked her door.

Before long, a servant entered, and informed her that she was wanted in the dining hall. She grunted a reply and walked as slowly as her impatient temper would allow. Despite her pace, the distance was so short that she was soon at the table with Emeric and the older Robert.

She briefly wondered where his son was. Maybe he really had been waylaid by brigands. She could only hope.

Emeric asked the same question aloud.

"Oh, this is just a short little trip," the steward replied. "I'm only here for a few measurements. I'll be off again in the morning."

"For what?" Evey asked, making sure to sound as obnoxious as possible.

"For the dress, you know." He completely ignored her tone, as usual. "Must have the dress fit right. It will be marvelous. I chose the design myself."

Evey didn't reply. The thought of standing for measurements was enough to ruin her appetite. Mostly she just poked at the food with her knife. Sir Robert didn't notice, and began rambling about wedding expenses. He seemed to be pleased at how exorbitant everything was. The dress itself was expected to cost quite a few gold pieces alone.

Dutifully, and miserably, Evey stood still while the steward's tailor measured everything that he could have possibly measured. She had no idea how the distance from her nose to her chin would have any bearing on a dress, but it got recorded along with everything else.

The tailor was meticulous. He checked every distance twice, and wrote painstakingly slow. His handwriting was beautiful. He could make a good living as a scribe. In fact, she really wished that he would, so he'd stop pestering her about cloth.

The measuring took a full hour, and she was on the verge of clobbering him with his own inkwell.

"Finally," she grumbled when she was released, drawing an insulted look from the tailor. Again, Robert was oblivious.

"Excellent. I simply can't wait to see it. Only four more weeks, now, eh Evanly?"

She was so shocked that she forgot to correct Robert about her name. She simply said, "Oh. Yes." before hurrying away.

"Four weeks!" she complained to no one. Her room was empty, but she had started to panic, and she couldn't keep it inside. "Four weeks! I don't even get my birthday to myself! Why did it have to be four?"

After circling aimlessly for minute, she stood still in the middle of her room, not sure what to do with herself. Nothing made sense to her, and she was afraid that her head might literally explode.

A loud knock caused her to jump.

"Yes?" she replied. Emeric opened the door and hesitantly entered.

"Can I talk to you?"

Evey slumped onto her bed. "I guess so."

"Evelyne, I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to make you feel pressured, or anything."

"No pressure? Four weeks. Four! Why didn't you tell me it was that close?"

"You haven't been here for a month," he replied calmly.

"Oh. Right."

Emeric sat on the bench and clasped his hands. "You are staying this time?"

"No. I don't even know why I came here. I should go."

"Evelyne, please." He put a hand on her arm. Apparently his broken wrist had healed.

"You might not believe me, but I was sixteen at one point. I do remember what it was like, although I didn't have as much on my shoulders. Talk to me."

"About what?" She covered her head with a pillow and made lots of exasperated faces into it.

"I was right, wasn't I? You're losing your focus. You're slipping, and you can't figure out why."