suffering was his doing. Guilt would invade his senses, something that he was terrible at handling.
He had a solution. He’d send word back that he was going to search for his sire and would return in two moons. It felt like sheer madness to go now, after all these years, yet something told him he should. He didn’t understand it, but he believed he should follow the pull.
Supposedly, his sire had died at sea. Part of him believed it, but he’d always wondered. Mayhap it was time to satisfy his curiosity. The search would also keep him away for long enough to miss Yule, and Sela would be well by the time he returned. He hoped Claray would wait for him.
Pleased that he’d thought of a sound plan, he had to come up with a way to reach the Grants. If he could find someone headed that way, he could ask them to stop at the castle and let them know he would return after Yule.
Lochluin Abbey. That was where he needed to go before he journeyed to Edinburgh, where his father was last seen. At least he’d have one night beneath a roof, something he knew enough to appreciate. He and Nari had been orphaned at a young age, and he remembered those awful days when they had been forced to sleep in the cold or the rain. He knew the Camerons well, and if he didn’t manage to find a messenger before then, they would surely send one for him.
He apologized to his horse and gave him another apple before mounting. If he wanted to get to the abbey the next night, he’d have to put in more traveling today.
Once the sun fell, he knew he had to find a spot to sleep. A path branched off the main one, so he followed it to a small hill next to a loch with a solid outcropping he could sleep under. Exhausted, he dismounted and strode along the trail, looking up at the stars as he walked. The sky was full of fast-moving clouds, but the moon shone through them every once in a while.
His thoughts always returned to Claray, sweet Claray who’d tasted like cinnamon and felt so right in his arms. True, he’d kissed others, and after Claray agreed to the betrothal with Cordell, he’d even had a short relationship with another orphan, Darby. But his heart hadn’t been in it, and neither had hers, because she’d left without a word. Her departure had upset him, but it had pained his pride more than his heart. No one knew why she’d left, but Loki’s castle was not restrictive. They often found orphans wandering and invited them in. Some only stayed briefly. Others stayed a lifetime.
A lifetime.
He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Claray. He was convinced she was his person, his wife to be. And if they were fortunate, maybe they’d be blessed with a bairn or two, even at their advanced ages.
The night was cool, so he started a fire. There was a danger of attracting unwanted creatures, but if he let it burn out, the embers would keep him warm through most of the night. Grateful he’d been sound enough to grab an extra fur and a couple of plaids before he left, he ate his oatcakes and apples, then tucked in for the night, his horse tied to a tree not far away.
He fell asleep quickly, hoping he’d sleep until dawn, but that wasn’t to happen. Instead, he awakened to a dagger at his throat.
A scruffy man in an old, unidentifiable plaid said, “Well, now. What have we here, lads? We have a lost Grant man, do we not?”
Two men stood behind him, all eyes focused on Thorn. He said nothing, waiting to see what they wanted. His sword was hidden under the fur so they couldn’t have taken it yet.
“Have you any coin for us, Grant warrior?”
“Nay,” he said. “I’m a warrior. I carry no coin.”
“Where are you headed?”
“To Edinburgh to see my sire.”
The man pulled his dagger away from Thorn’s throat and said, “’Tis exactly where we are headed, so we wish to bring you along with us.”
“Why?” He couldn’t help but rub his throat, grateful to have the cold metal away from his skin. They could easily kill him, strip him of all his clothing, and take his horse. He’d be left for the buzzards. It occurred to him belatedly that he should at least have asked Nari