Free Exile’s Bane by Nicole Margot Spencer Page A

some ways from town when the weak sunlight began to dissipate the mists around us. We watched the retreating edges for signs of other travelers or of Roundhead troops.
    It seemed to take longer to make the return trip then it had taken me to ride this way earlier. Peg would be worried, and that would set Thomas on edge, which was never pleasant. As well, I was still concerned that the house guard might have bumbled into Bolton and gotten themselves hopelessly entrenched.
    “We need to move faster,” I called over to Duncan, for the walls of fog had retreated significantly. I pushed Kalimir into a faster pace. Without boots or spurs, all I could do was pummel the horse with my heels, which he responded to well enough.
    “Wait,” Duncan called out behind me.
    I turned to find him dismounted and awaiting me.
    I studied our desolate horizons to be sure no one had appeared, then brought Kalimir back to where he stood. The roan’s reins in one hand, he motioned with the other hand for me to dismount. I did so and faced his stern demeanor in uncomfortable concern.
    “I did not press you earlier because I wanted to give you every possible advantage with witnesses around us.”
    I clutched my hands together, reins and all, nodded my head, and waited for him to go on.
    “Why would Lord Devlin want you dead?” An embarrassed, disbelieving smile crept over his mouth.
    “He wants Tor House for himself, and I stand in his way,” I answered without hesitation.
    “How so?” He seemed suddenly reticent, his russet brows knitted together. “Women cannot own property.”
    “If they have been legally joined with the land, yes they can. My father wanted me to have my own home and so, some years ago, he deeded Tor House into a jointure. I am the heiress of Tor House in my own right.”
    “Can you not make this known?”
    “It’s not that simple. I must find supporters,” I said, trying to control my rising irritation. I could hardly believe the deed had been destroyed, though I had been forced to witness it.
    “So, were you dead, Devlin would inherit Tor House as he did the earldom as the last surviving son of the old earl.” His eyebrows went up and his mouth compressed into an expression of muted acceptance.
    “That is exactly the sum of it. He means to see me gone. Should I die in the process, it would not displease him.”
    “But why Bolton?”
    “I told you. I have a friend there.”
    “Who is this friend that you think can help you? What are this person’s allegiances?”
    “I don’t see that my friend’s credentials are your concern. Would you rather I had not warned you of the enemy’s presence?” I huffed back to my horse, ready to ride on. Alone, if necessary. But on second thought, I turned back to him. “I don’t blame you for questioning my motives. But I cannot return.”
    “I would not be here, nor would you, if I did not trust you.” He stared at me, his mouth tight, his face coloring in frustration. “From what you have told me, were it me, I would do no less. But others may misinterpret your flight, perhaps see you as a traitor.”
    He caught me off-guard with his telling view of my situation. Yes, my allegiance would be questioned, perhaps even by those very people I needed to approach.
    I nodded solemnly, knowing he was right, that the path I had laid out for myself was fraught with deadly unknowns.
    We mounted and rode in comradely silence for some time, accompanied by the creak of leather and the horses’ hooves squishing through the mud. The wet cold invaded my nostrils, forestalling any sense of smell. There were no birds, nor birdsong. The eerie, deadened silence descended around us as our mounts moved us into a low area, a foggy netherworld, our only connection with reality the wide pathway that we followed. I rubbed the slick reins in my cramped hand to assure myself this was no dream. The frosted atmosphere must have affected Duncan, as well, for he seemed gloomily spellbound by the