The Lion and the Crow by Eli Easton

then rode towards the castle. The path was only dimly illuminated by the quarter moon. He found the mill easily enough by following the stream. It was close to the castle walls but surrounded by woods. He waited, his thoughts bouncing around like a wild bird in a cage.
    Christian was leaving the castle early. Perhaps he’d learned something which made it imperative that they move quickly. Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps Elaine would be travelling and they could waylay her retinue in the mountains. Perhaps Christian had been discovered and had to flee.
    Perhaps, perhaps.
    It didn’t matter. All William prayed for now was that Christian would get out of the castle safe and be here soon, in his arms. That would do for the moment. Only that. Only let Christian be safe. William didn’t know why he felt so anxious, but he did. He prayed that Christian had not done, would not do, anything too foolhardy. But right now the hope felt false.
    The night seemed to pass at a leaden pace; it felt like a lifetime before William heard a soft noise from the forest. A dark shadow came down the path to the mill. Christian.
    He was dressed in a linen shirt William didn’t recognize, his own hose, and his shoes. And he appeared unharmed. William strode to him in three steps and pulled Christian into his arms. William clasped his body tightly, feeling the thudding heart against his own. He buried his face into Christian’s neck and smelled sweat— and blood.
    “Are you all right?” William asked harshly, pulling back to give Christian’s arms and torso a quick inspection.
    “Yes, but let’s move quickly. I want to get farther from the castle.”
    “What’s wrong?”
    “When we’re further away, I beg you.”
    William heard the urgency in Christian’s voice and he heeded it. He mounted Tristan and pulled Christian up behind him. They made their way through the woods and then back on the path to the foothills.
    William looked behind them, but he saw no riders coming from the castle and no signs of alarm.
    “Do you think you were followed?” he asked.
    Christian glanced back. “I pray not. Ride on.”
    They rode as quickly as William could push Tristan with two riders. When the castle had vanished from sight, he spoke again.
    “What happened? Tell me.”
    Christian had his hands on William’s waist and now he grasped him tighter. “Let’s wait until we’re back at the camp. Better yet, let’s ride on and make camp further up the mountain. You have Livermore?”
    “Aye, he’s at the camp with Sir Swiftfoot. But—”
    “Please.”
    “Are Elaine and the children safe?”
    “Yes. They’re safe. I swear it.”
    With this, William dropped his questioning, though he was afire to know. Clearly Christian had been found out and had to flee. But there was something more. They rode on for another hour before reaching the camp. Christian jumped down and untied the two horses. They moved on.
    “This is far enough,” Christian finally said in a weary voice, another hour up the mountain. They left the path and headed into the woods a ways before stopping. As they tied their horses, William turned to the younger knight.
    “By my sword, tell me what happened, Christian. I smell blood on you. Whose is it? Did someone find you out?”
    Christian shook his head. “’Tis Lord Somerfield’s blood. He’s dead.”
    “What?” William whispered. He felt suddenly weak with fear.
    Christian ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I had the opportunity. I was sent to serve him alone in his rooms, so I used my dagger and I killed him. I pray it will be dawn before he is found, but it’s best we get as far from the castle as possible. Perhaps we should ride back to Kendal, or, better yet, south to St. Bees.”
    “You….” William could not believe it, neither the fact nor the arrogant disregard of danger implicit in such an action. “You murdered Lord Somerfield in his rooms? And they know it was you?”
    Christian winced. “They know my face.