Greer fought back a snort of laughter at their unimaginative assumptions. She wouldn’t run from the Joining Ceremony only to hide away like a cowering sparrow. She was escaping. She was breaking the hold Mistaken had on her, had had on them all since the day they were born.
The meadow was up ahead.
The easiest way through would be straight across, but the space was wide open, with no tall grasses or shrubs to hide in. She’d be spotted the moment she stepped out into the field, so she took the long way around, stopping every so often to pause or double back, trying to cover and obscure her trail as best as she could.
She heard Hessel’s puffed breaths as he fought his way through the mire of dried creeping vines, the twisting grasps of wisteria stretching along the forest floor like the wires of a poacher’s snare. He’d ventured into the woods with several other Stewards and barked out occasional orders, snapping and biting, his fury evident.
Greer had no doubt she’d be able to avoid her father’s furious blustering.
But Lachlan Davis…
Try as she might, Greer could not pick out his footfalls from the others combing through the woods. She knew he was an experienced hunter, celebrated each season for his sharp skills, his sly methods. He always brought back the biggest bucks, the most pheasants or rabbits or beaver. His family’s larders were full of salted fish, of smoked jerkies.
She could not afford to underestimate him.
The sky was heavy and dark when she reached the northern edge ofthe meadow and finally dared to enter the open space, cutting toward Ellis’s point of departure.
She expected to feel a marked difference as she slipped by the Warding Stone. There was always a catch as one left Mistaken, a slight tug as if the border was calling them back, trying to lay its claim. This was felt deep in the bones, a poking at the marrow, a prodding sensation that you were going the wrong way, leaving the safety of the known.
But, wearing the necklace, Greer didn’t feel a thing. She went into the dark woods five yards, ten, then twenty, and though she knew sunset was quickly approaching, falling unseen behind a bank of steel-gray snow clouds, her heart didn’t quicken with fear. There was no anxiety, no worry. She was not scared of being in these woods. She was not fearful of the night to come.
Ellis’s trail was easy to spot in this virgin wood. His heavy boots had left clear marks in the soft ground, and every so often there were snapped twigs in the brush, signs that he’d pushed his way through.
As she went on, the terrain grew rougher, rocky and steep, and after a few minutes spent fighting her way up the angled slope, Greer was panting, her dress warm and damp beneath the thick wool of her cloak.
“What in the Devil’s blazes are you doing, Greer?”
She startled at the sound of his voice, as shocking as a gunshot. Lachlan.
“It’s nearly sunset—you’re going to get us killed,” he went on, climbing the embankment as easily as if it were level ground.
Greer kept her eyes low. Ellis’s footprints were harder to spot here, and she needed to concentrate. “Go home, Lachlan.”
“Not without you,” he said, picking up his pace until he was on her heels. He reached out and grabbed at her cloak. “We need to hurry if we’re going to get across the border before Thirds.”
“You do,” she agreed, struggling to wrest herself free of his grasp. “You should. You still have time to turn back. Just go, Lachlan, please, before you get hurt.”
He let out a laugh of disbelief. “You’ll be tossed back, too.”
“I won’t,” she promised. She didn’t have the breath to explain.
“Damn it, Greer.” His fingers dug into the underside of herforearm, so hard that Greer could already feel bruises beginning to form. “You’re going to get us killed, you stupid girl,” he snarled, tugging at her.
“I’m going after Ellis. Save yourself while you still have time.”
His molars ground together as he fought to pull her back, back from the hill, across the border, and down the aisle.
“Come on,” he snapped and grabbed at her waist. Even with Louise’s pack and her heavy winter clothes, Lachlan was able to hoist her over his shoulder as if she were nothing more than a cask of ale, a sack of flour, a lamb on its way to slaughter.
“Let me go!” she ordered, all but screaming as she thrashed against him, kicking out and striking his chest.
“You’ve already made me a laughingstock. All winter, I’ll hear how my bride raced off for the wilds rather than join me on our wedding day. I’m not walking away from this empty-handed.”
“I’m not your bride,” Greer protested, flexing and squirming and doing everything she could to make Lachlan realize she was not worth the effort. If only she could get free of him. If only her feet were on the ground. She’d drop the rucksack and run.
Sunset couldn’t be far off now.
He let out a cry as her knee struck his clavicle. Off balance, his equilibrium thrown, he staggered, careening back toward the ground, taking her with him.
