it. “Is there no one who can escort me on to Beldar? I grow to hate Predaria more and more every moment that I’m out here.” No one answered her and she turned back to Caleb.
At first, she thought she saw something sad in his eyes, and then it was gone, replaced by a hardness that stilled her blood when he marched toward her, stopping a hair’s breadth away. His scowl was dark and angry.
“There is food and water and soil packed into our cart,” he advised her in a rough voice. “I’ll not lose one apple because you want to go sit by the water and sip your tea.” He tore the bandana off his head, went to his horse, and vaulted into his saddle, motioning to the others to head out. He turned his icy gaze on her. “Fear not, Willow. As soon as we get this food to Shondravar, I will deliver you to Beldar myself.”
Staring up at him, Willow balked, closing her fists at her sides. Didn’t he understand that she was afraid? That this was not the kind of life she was used to? After almost being consumed in fire, Oscar of Lionese didn’t seem so bad. She’d had a bath today and she was already filthy. Her clothes were black with soot. Her neat, high ponytail had long since come undone and she was sure there were insects nesting within her long tresses. She wasn’t made for this land of Catchers and fires and bugs. She lived a life of safety. But she had no control over this. What would befall them tomorrow?
“What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing at all,” he muttered, and then before she could say another word, or object to his treatment, he leaned down, scooped her up in his arm and practically tossed her behind him.
Willow slapped his arm hard enough to make the men closest to him, excluding Jonas, pull their weapons on her.
She nearly fainted and coiled her arms around Caleb to keep from falling off his horse. She’d gone too far. They were going to kill her.
He held his hand up to them and almost instantly they sheathed their blades.
Willow didn’t look at any of them. She couldn’t. She’d had enough. Them and their commander and their sun and their colossal fires had beaten her. She wanted to cry. To scream and maybe she would wake up and this handsome man in front of her wouldn’t threaten her entire way of life.
She looked up for an instant, feeling someone’s gaze and saw Jonas staring at her. He hadn’t released his weapon on her, knowing a slap wouldn’t kill his commander. He wasn’t his usual merry self now though. He was giving her a look of pity.
Willow closed her eyes, unable to look at him. She hated his pity. She knew how she appeared to these hardened men. Spoiled, petulant, abusive, and now, weak as she turned away and sobbed against Caleb’s back. Compared to them, yes, she was weak. She couldn’t fight a battle on a pint of water a day. She couldn’t fight fires and injustice and feed the country and teach people about a god who proved he hadn’t forgotten Predaria by sending Caleb.
She felt Caleb’s arm come around her and she opened her eyes. He’d reached behind him and pulled her a little closer. “There now,” his heavy voice fell upon her. “No more tears. They will make you thirstier.”
She tried to stop. She wanted to show him that she was strong, but she didn’t feel strong. She felt defeated.
He pulled her around and onto his lap and cradled her in his arms.
He motioned to Jonas to go ahead with the men and he would catch up.
Willow was quiet. No man had ever held her so. Not even her father. In the circle of Caleb’s arms, she felt treasured, cherished.
“I know this is not easy for you,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ll get you home. You have my word.”
She believed him. It should have made her feel a little better, but to go home meant possibly never seeing him again, and also, she’d be bringing the Warrior commander right into the king’s lap—if he had returned to Beldar.
One of them would likely be killed. She swallowed a surge of more tears. She wasn’t supposed to care for her father’s enemy. It was a betrayal. The king could hang her for it. She didn’t want to like Caleb so much. But out here, what she