Free Shana Abe by The Promise of Rain

then she moved her head casually to catch a look at him from the corner of her vision. He rode bareheaded, shunning the heavy chain mail headpiece, which might, she supposed, dampen his hearing further than it was already by the fog. Very prudent, she silently approved.
    But the shifting layers of mist could not disguise the grim set of his mouth, nor the hawklike sharpness of his gaze. He maintained a constant vigilance, keeping his sword ready. Even through the murky whiteness she could easily identify the golden-brown hair, the rather massive build of him, and once, when he caught her looking at him, the vibrant turquoise of his eyes, a burst of warmth amid the coolness.
    He had smiled at her then, as if to reassure her, and she had instinctively smiled back, because she had wanted to, because he had a smile that made her want to trace his lips with her fingers to feel that graceful joy for herself.
    Kyla caught herself and turned away again. She had to keep her head about her. She could not make a mistake now. He was handsome and charming, and he was her nemesis. It would not do to forget that.
    The warmth from his look lingered, a gentle ghost in the blankness around her.
    “Ho,” came a distant call, a disembodied voice from far ahead in the line.
    “Ho,” echoed someone else, the call repeated down the column of men to Kyla and Roland, each one growing louder and more distinct. The horses were slowing.
    With an almost casual ease Kyla turned Auster to her left,where the soldier guarding her had drawn ahead just enough to allow her to slip behind his horse’s haunches and off the forest path. She didn’t dare look behind her, she made no overt noise or movement, merely pulling lightly at the reins to indicate where she wanted to go. Auster willingly obeyed. She maintained the walk that had been keeping pace with the others and hoped the mist had swallowed them without a sign of their passage.
    Her mouth was dry, her heartbeat thudded in her ears and she had to strain to listen to the sounds of the men behind her. Nothing yet. She bent as low as she could in the saddle and urged Auster on.
    Now came the raised voices, a commotion of sound with no visible origin. She heard her name being shouted, repeated.
    Quickly she slipped to the ground and led Auster on foot, not willing to run in the obscurity of the fog. She was betting they would not risk their mounts to run in pursuit. Tangles of black branches materialized suddenly out of the whiteness, grabbing and catching at her. She bent them back as best she could for Auster, still walking, fighting the urge to run.
    The soldiers were coming. They were not bothering to be quiet about it. She could clearly make out Lord Strathmore’s voice, calling her name. There was a resignation there that affected her more deeply than anger would have. Resignation suggested that he was sure she would only be caught again. She was merely delaying her fate, not escaping it.
    “Lady Kyla! You don’t want to make this more difficult!” The cool assurance that carried to her as he called out was far more frightening than his wrath would have been.
    Her throat closed.
I am not afraid
, she told herself firmly.
    She remembered his look, friendly, consoling, and felt a small jump within herself, a shock from the memory.
    A pair of gnarled branches caught and held her hair, yanking her painfully backward and almost causing her to fall. Her hands shook as she broke off the ends, leaving them snarled in the mat of her hair. Precious seconds flew by.
    She had to think. She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know the direction she was headed. All she knew wasthat only a few dear feet separated her from Strathmore, and London, and the Tower. She had to preserve her advantage.
    The fog was making her hair cling to her neck and face in damp, cold curls. The bliaut melted to her form, dragging at the leaves and twigs around her. And still they came behind her, edging closer, not slowed by