Free Ruled by Caragh M. O'brien Page A

for?”
    “To get a canoe.” His horse sidestepped delicately in the dark grass and Leon settled him with a hand on his neck.
    “You can’t go out now,” Peter said. “I’ve seen you in a canoe. You stink at sterning. And it’s dark.”
    “So? It’ll be light soon.”
    “Will you wait until then?”
    Leon looked at him curiously. Peter couldn’t possibly be concerned for his welfare. “What is this?”
    “I’m on patrol. This is my job, remember? Village security.”
    “Some job,” Leon said. “You didn’t see me until I was practically in Gaia’s window.”
    Peter shook his head. “I followed you since you first rode into the village.”
    “You knew I was here for Gaia,” Leon said, annoyed. “You could have told me where she was.”
    “I could have,” Peter agreed.
    Leon hauled himself into the saddle.
    “You’re still not engaged, are you?” Peter asked.
    “No.”
    “Eats at you, doesn’t it?”
    “Not at all.” Leon’s mount shifted heavily under him, and he kicked him into motion.
    It ate at him, all right. It was a perpetual, burning, gnawing irritation. The few times he’d brought up marriage again, even vaguely, Gaia had withdrawn, and that was the last thing he wanted. It set them back by weeks, every time. Conversely, when he didn’t mention it, she gradually let down some inner guard, and there was nothing as sweet as Gaia when she let herself love him.
    Leon was vaguely aware that Peter had pulled up to ride alongside him.
    “What are you doing?” Leon asked.
    “Patrolling.”
    “Cut it out.”
    “Why? Am I bothering you?”
    It was so juvenile, Leon didn’t bother to answer. Peter pulled his horse slightly ahead as if he were in charge. Or more masterful.
    What a tool , Leon thought.
    They rode down the familiar main road, passing the quiet houses of the village, the closed shops and tavern. The more he thought about it, the more Leon hated being on a string. He wondered why it wasn’t the other way around. Why was he always the one who was begging? He didn’t actually beg. He never would. But it felt like that. Even now, he was the one riding in the middle of the night for hours, trying to get in her window, then taking up a paddle to cross a dark marsh, while she was delivering a baby, not thinking about him at all.
    Of course she wasn’t thinking about him. Only an egotistical jerk would expect her to think about him while she was tending a childbirth.
    This timing was not going to work. He knew that, so why couldn’t he give up?
    They passed the willow and wound down toward the shore. Moonlight on the marsh made the water glow in silvery patches between the black hillocks of grasses. He was going to miss the marsh. Not much else about Sylum, but the marsh he’d miss.
    Along the shore, a dozen small houses stood back from the water, with the beach sloping before them. Several piles of wood were accumulating for the next bonfire night, after the Thirty-Two games. Only two more now, before they left. Everything was in countdown mode. He rode over the sandy shore to the canoe rack and dismounted.
    “Here,” he said to Peter, holding out the reins. “Take care of my horse. I’ll pick him up tomorrow from your barn.”
    “I’m not taking your horse,” Peter said, swinging down from his own. He looped his reins over the rail, near a water trough.
    Leon waved instinctively at a cloud of gathering mosquitoes. “I didn’t ask you to go out there with me.”
    “You’re right. You didn’t. Take the end,” Peter said, gesturing to a canoe on the rack.
    “You’re not coming,” Leon said.
    “Do you want to get there faster, or do you want the romance of a solo paddle?” Peter asked.
    Leon took a brief look at the sky, which showed a faint edge of gray, and then he tied up his horse beside Peter’s, took one end of the canoe, and carried it down to the water.
    “You’re in the bow,” Peter said, tossing him a paddle.
    Leon recognized the satisfied taunt in