Chapter 233 TEIGEN LVII
Sawyer’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me if you have seen her. Speak truth, and you’ll be spared the Duke’s wrath. Lie, and this whole village will suffer.”
Rae thumped his cane once on the dirt and stepped forward. The villagers turned to him. His voice stayed calm, though Ryker knew it was only a mask.
“My lord,” Rae said, bowing his head just enough. “You honor our poor homes. But no such lady has come through these hills. We are simple folk. Strangers are few here.”
Sawyer tilted his head, his smile thin and sharp. “Is that so, old man? Then you won’t mind if my men search every house, every barn, every corner.”
A wave of fear ran through the crowd. Mothers held their children tighter. Rae leaned heavier on his cane.
“Search if you must,” he said slowly. “But you’ll find nothing here but mud and honest sweat.”
Sawyer’s smile grew colder. “We shall see.”
Ryker ran hard down the narrow path, lungs burning. He jumped a fence and plunged into the undergrowth that led to the cabin. Twigs snapped under his boots. Each step felt too slow. Every second wasted felt like a noose tightening.
Please, let her be safe.
He burst into the clearing, breathing hard. Smoke drifted from the chimney. A pot clanged softly inside. Relief hit him, but it didn’t last.
“Elara!” he hissed, pushing through the door.
Inside, Elara knelt by the hearth, her auburn hair loose around her shoulders as she stirred a pot with a wooden spoon.
She looked up with a smile, but it faded the moment she saw his face. “Ryker? What’s wrong?”
He closed the door hard and crossed the room in three quick steps.
His hands gripped her shoulders, firm but shaking. “Soldiers are here. Lord Sawyer. They’ve come for you.”
The spoon fell from her fingers into the stew. “No…” Her face went white. “So soon?”
“They brought a whole column, trumpets, banners, half the Empire it seems,” Ryker said, voice tight. “They’re in the village now. Rae is stalling them, but it won’t last.”
Her breath came fast. She clutched his tunic, green eyes wide with fear. “What do we do?”
“We run,” he said. “No choice. Pack nothing but what you can carry on your back. We leave now.”
She nodded, hands shaking as she rose. She grabbed their few things, shawls, bread wrapped in cloth, the cloak from the market. Ryker snatched his pack and shoved in the water flask, his knife, and the small pouch of coins Rae had given him.
Elara’s fingers trembled as she pulled on her cloak. “Ryker, the villagers, if they see us—”
“They won’t stop us,” he said, though his jaw clenched. He knew fear could turn even kind folk against them. But he couldn’t let her think on that now.
He settled the cloak around her shoulders, his hands lingering a moment. She looked up at him, fiery hair spilling from under the hood. For a heartbeat, the danger felt far away.
“We’ll make it,” he said softly. “I’ll keep you safe.”
Voices rose from the village below, shouts of soldiers and barked orders. They were moving fast. Ryker took her hand. “Come.”
They slipped out the back door into the trees. The forest closed around them, shadows thick under the pines. Ryker moved quick but careful, guiding her over roots and stones. Every broken branch sounded loud as a shout.
Behind them, Rae’s voice carried over the crowd, firm despite his age. “My lord Sawyer!” he called. “Your men are frightening good folk with all this stomping. Have you no manners left for the old?”
A few nervous laughs rose from the villagers, then died quickly as Sawyer answered. “Do not test me, cripple. I’ll tear this village apart stone by stone if I must.”
Boots thundered as soldiers spread out. “Search every door!” Sawyer barked. “Drag out anyone who hesitates.”
The noise rolled across the valley, doors slamming, children crying, women protesting as armed men pushed into their homes. Fear began to crack the villagers’ silence.
A woman’s voice rang out, shaky: “My lord, I swear I’ve seen no lady with auburn hair!”
Another called hoarsely, “We’re honest folk! Leave us be!”
Sawyer’s reply was ice cold. “Honest? Then you’ve nothing to hide. If she’s here, I’ll find her.”
Rae struck his cane on the ground again. “You think we’d hide a noble lady from her own blood? The girl you speak of belongs in a fine hall, not wandering in the muck with the likes of us.”
Sawyer leaned forward in his saddle, eyes narrowed. “Auburn hair long as fire, blue eyes, small delicate hands. If she’s here, I will see her dragged before me.”
Gasps spread through the crowd. Mothers pulled their daughters closer. Some men glanced toward the forest path, the very way Ryker and Elara had gone.
Rae saw the looks and shook his cane sharply. “Eyes on your boots, you fools! You’ll damn us all with those glances.”
The villagers looked down fast, but it was too late. Sawyer had followed their eyes. His smile sharpened. “Search the woods,” he ordered. “She is close. I can smell her fear.”
Soldiers broke off at once and marched toward the trees. Rae stepped forward to block the path, thin and bent as he was. “My lord—” he began.
Sawyer’s horse moved forward, nearly trampling him. “Step aside, old man, before I crush what little strength you have left.”
The villagers fell into a heavy silence. They were trapped, speak and betray Ryker and Elara, stay quiet and risk the Duke’s anger on them all. Fear held them tighter than any chain.
Ryker pulled Elara along the narrow path, his grip tight on her hand. She stumbled once on a root, but he steadied her without breaking stride. His breath came harsh, but his senses were sharper than ever, every shout from the village, every crash of boots echoing against stone, painted the danger behind them.
They broke through a thicket, branches scratching at their cloaks, and came upon a hollow where the stream trickled downhill. Ryker halted, chest heaving.
“Elara,” he said, crouching low. “We can’t keep to the open. They’ll hunt the ridges. We’ll take the streambed—mask our tracks.”
She nodded, her face pale, auburn locks spilling from her hood like fire against shadow. “I trust you.”
The words nearly undid him.