I glanced over my shoulder as Marcus urged the horse down a narrow woodland track, my arms locked tightly around his waist. Branches whipped past us as the horse thundered through the forest, hooves pounding against the earth.
Relief flooded my chest at the sight behind us.
A handful of Roman soldiers followed at a distance, their helmets flashing between the trees, crimson cloaks billowing behind them as they rode.
"They're your men," I said, raising my voice close to his ear over the sound of the gallop.
"It does not mean we are safe, Elena."
Marcus guided the horse around a sharp bend, leading us deeper into the forest.
"Not until we reach encampment."
I cursed under my breath.
The relentless pace was beginning to take its toll. My head throbbed with every jolt of the horse. The old wound at the back of my skull seemed to pulse in time with the pounding hooves, while muscles I rarely used screamed from hours spent in the saddle.
I had never appreciated cars more in my life.
Still, I buried my face briefly against Marcus's shoulder and inhaled the smell of leather, metal, mixed with smoke. The familiar scent of him.
It steadied me more effectively than any medicine.
"How much farther?" I asked.
"Not far."
His hand tightened reassuringly over mine where it rested against his waist.
"You may rest if you wish. Close your eyes."
A smile tugged at his voice.
"I will protect you."
The certainty in his voice silenced me.
Not because I believed he was invincible, after everything I've seen. All the wounds I've stitched together, the bandages I've changed. The way he was tortured, then finally, a blade driving through his chest.
He was lucky he survived all that.
But the way he said it, it was like the simplest fact in the world. Like the sun would rise and the tide would return.
I felt his lips brush briefly against my forehead, bringing me back to the present.
The horse was surging forward faster.
And for the first time in weeks, I allowed myself to believe that we might actually escape. But that hope only lasted all of three minutes.
A horn sounded somewhere behind us.
Marcus's entire body stiffened.
Immediately, the Roman riders following us drew closer.
One of them shouted something in Latin.
Another pointed deeper into the forest ahead.
My stomach dropped.
Because the horn had not come from behind, but ahead of us.
Marcus hauled sharply on the reins and the horse reared, letting out a shrill whine as its front hooves left the ground.
I gasped and instinctively grabbed onto him tighter as the world tilted.
Then the horse crashed back onto the forest floor, snorting heavily.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
Because ahead of us, blocking the narrow forest path, sat a line of mounted riders. All bearing the armor of Gen's family crest. Their horses standing shoulder to shoulder beneath the canopy of ancient oaks, forming an impassable wall of leather, steel and muscle.
At their center, sat Gen.
Even from a distance, I recognized the black stallion beneath him. The dark blue cloak draped over his shoulders. The cold stillness of a man who had already anticipated exactly where his prey would run.
My stomach dropped.
Marcus simply raised his hand, commanding his men to stay back.
For a long moment, nobody moved.
Nobody even spoke.
It was like the forest itself was holding its breath.
The only sound were the restless stamping of the horses and the distant cries of crows taking flight overhead.
Slowly, Gen's cold gaze drifted from Marcus to me.
Something flashed across his eyes, but they were gone in a flash as his expression turned unreadable. Though there was no mistaking the fury simmering beneath it.
"Helena," he called, my name carrying easily across the distance.
Marcus immediately shifted in his saddle, his arm tightening protectively around my waist.
Gen noticed, of course he did.
Something dark flickering across his face before his eyes lifted back to Marcus.
"I suppose," Gen said softly, a smile touching his lips though it held no warmth, "that means you are not dead after all."
Marcus's jaw hardened.
"It takes more than that to kill a Roman," Marcus said coldly.
Behind us, another horn sounded. The rest of the Roman soldiers had caught up. Marcus lifted one hand without looking back, a silent command. Instantly, his cavalry reined in and held their position, none daring to advance past their leader.
"An imperator now," Gen said with a short laugh. "And what did it cost you to earn that title?"
"Stand aside and let us pass," Marcus replied. "Or face the wrath of Rome. I do not make the same mistake twice. Do not mistake my restraint for mercy, Cavarinus."
Cavarinus. The name of Gen's family.
Gen's amusement faded.
Slowly, he lifted a hand and beckoned to me.
"Come here, Helena."
My breath caught, but I simply stared at him.
The request should have been simple. It should have been easy to refuse. Yet somehow, standing between two armies and two men who looked ready to tear the world apart for me, my body locked in place.
I could feel Marcus tense behind me, the way his arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer against him.
"No," Marcus bit out, his voice cutting through the clearing. "She will not."
Gen's gaze shifted from me to Marcus, the corner of his mouth twitched. "Will she not?"
Marcus urged his horse forward a single step as it snorted, stamping against the forest floor.
"She will not," he repeated. "Because I am claiming her."
My pulse hammered in my throat.
I stared at him, my lips parting even as all my words clogged up in my throat. He didn't know. I hadn't had the chance to tell him about what happened. About Gen, what had happened between us that night. How he—
"And you have my gratitude, Lord Gwrgenau," he continued, steel beneath the courtesy of his words. "For sheltering my wife."
Silence followed, and a terrible one at that.
My hold on Marcus loosened as I lifted my eyes to meet Gen's cold gaze.
His jaw was clenched, his hands tightened around the reins. Gone was the gentleness I had once known in him. In its place stood the cruel man standing above his fallen soldiers, expressionless. The same man who forced himself on me that night.
His blue eyes drifted to the arm wrapped securely around my waist, lingering there as though he were imagining ways to tear it away from me.
"You arrive months too late to make such claims."
"I came the moment I learned where she was."
Gen let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it.
"Did you?" he asked softly. "How fortunate."
Marcus's jaw tightened. "Move aside."
"No."
The forest seemed to grow colder.
"You claim she is your wife," Gen continued. "And yet she remembers nothing."
"She will," Marcus said, his voice hardened with conviction. "And I will be right by her side when she does."
"How will I know it is not one of your ploys to take her from me?" he asked. "You have taken my lands, my people, my family, now you sought the gift my gods have given me, for all I've sacrificed?"
Marcus's arm tightened around me.
"I did not come here for your lands or your people," he said coldly. "I came for my wife. Whatever happened while she was under your protection does not change that."
I could feel Marcus's heartbeat beneath my back, steady and controlled. Though I knew him well enough to know exactly how much effort that control was costing him.
Gen leaned slightly forward in his saddle.
"Tell me, Roman," he began, his voice lowering, "how am I meant to know whether she truly belongs to you?"
Before Marcus could answer, the words slipped from my mouth. "I do not belong to anyone."
Both men looked at me.
My pulse hammered, but I forced myself to continue. "I may not remember everything, but I am not some prized pig to be won between you."
Gen's gaze shifted from Marcus to me, something softening briefly in his expression. Not enough to erase the tension, but enough to make my chest tighten.
"It should be no question who you belong to, Helena."
His voice was steady, certain.
"Especially if that Roman there, claims you are his wife."
The words landed heavily between us, then his gaze hardened.
"But you may be carrying my child..." His eyes flickered briefly to my stomach before returning to Marcus. "And that child belongs to me."