Curse of the Celts by Clara O'Connor (most romantic novels .TXT) 📕

“They did chase us,” Marcus reminded me flatly. “My father died making sure they didn’t think there was anything left to chase.”

As far as the praetor was concerned, we had died in a fireball on the Tamesis with Matthias as we tried to flee.

“The York troops tore up Oxford trying to find you,” Gideon informed us. “So, if the city thought you dead, it doesn’t anymore.”

“How would they know what happened in Oxford?” I asked.

“Don’t be so naïve. Shadowers earn their entry into the city by keeping the council well-informed about what happens in the borderlands. Why do you think there is so little information about the Lady of the Lake? Carlisle is too far north for what little word might have leaked beyond the Lakes to have reached the ears of anyone deemed to have divided loyalties.” Gideon slanted us a mocking smirk. “That’s why your disguise as Shadowers was useless once you left Oxford. Shadowers are deeply discouraged from crossing too far into our lands since she died. Now mount up, we need to go.”

We rode hard for the rest of the day, Gideon pushing us even harder as the winter sun lowered in the sky. Suddenly, riders appeared in the gloom on the road before us. There had to be twenty of them. I looked to Gideon for guidance. The hounds were behind us and armed warriors were in front.

What did we do now?

Chapter Fourteen

“They’re York troops,” Gideon confirmed.

“How can you tell?” Marcus asked.

“I can tell.”

I could feel his body tensing as his head turned from side to side, his gaze sweeping the road in front: mountains to our left, ever darkening forest to our right.

“At least we’ll have company when those bloody dogs catch us.” He shrugged. His arms went to my waist. “You’d best ride with your boyfriend.”

“Why?”

“They’re looking for Marcus. He’s their prince and they will protect him with their lives; let’s hope that protection extends to his little city girlfriend.” And with a mocking “M’lady,” he swooped me down to the ground. I took the step back to Marcus’s horse and in a moment was up on the horse in front of him.

I ran over Gideon’s reasoning for changing our arrangement. If riding with Marcus gave me more protection, then what did that mean for him? But it was too late to ask as the York riders had gathered pace and were on us in moments.

The York riders wore similar leathers to Gideon, but their tunics had something like a breastplate to them. Where the Mercian warriors we had ridden with had been wildly Celtic, the Anglian troops were somewhat more martial in appearance.

Any hope I had that we could hide our identity was blown out of the water as a familiar bearded man sat at the head of the troops.

“Callum,” I gasped in dismay. I had thought him our friend, but he had clearly led this troop in pursuit of us.

“My prince.” He bowed his head to Marcus before turning to Gideon. “My lord.”

My lord. Gideon was a lord. He certainly didn’t act like a noble. I retraced that thought. Actually, he had no shortage of the arrogance of one privileged from birth.

“Callum.” Gideon knew him too, it seemed. Had he also been Gideon’s teacher? But no, that made no sense; Callum had been Devyn’s teacher in Carlisle. Gideon hadn’t arrived there until he was a teenager. “I see you’ve disappointed my father recently.”

A small cut marked Callum’s cheekbone. I looked at the similar location of Gideon’s own much older injury. Who was his father?

“Why didn’t he kill you?” Gideon asked.

“I guess he must still have some use for me,” Callum answered drily.

“Like hunting a member of the blood?” Gideon nodded at Marcus. At least I hoped that’s who he meant.

“Seems I’m not the only one following the fresh scent of magic across the countryside,” Callum said as another howl rang out in the distance, echoed by the rest of the pack.

“We need to ride,” a dark-haired warrior spoke up, addressing Callum but nodding respectfully at Gideon.

“Let’s move then.” Gideon urged Marcus’s horse forward. He had clearly assessed the competing threats and deemed the York riders the lesser of two evils as he dropped behind to ride between us and the pursuing hounds.

“City girl, ride with Callum,” he ordered.

I turned to look at Gideon. “No.”

I was tired of him ordering me about. And what was with the city girl moniker again? Now that I thought about it, it had been m’lady all day. Not a hint of the dismissive nickname with which he had christened me on sight.

“He’s right, girl.” Callum spoke up. “If we need to move fast, having the pair of you, as has barely ever ridden before, on the self-same horse is going to give them hounds an easy target.”

Marcus was obviously not the best rider, but I felt Callum had an ulterior motive in splitting us up. If the hounds came, I was their target, not Marcus. It would give Marcus a better chance if we separated. Callum was effectively tying his survival chances to mine.

For the second time in a few minutes, I changed horses. We took off again, the York troops putting Marcus in their centre while Gideon moved to ride behind Callum and me.

It was a move that did not go unnoticed by my former teacher, who caught the younger man’s eye for a moment before meeting mine contemplatively. I inclined my head, confirming his suspicions. His eyes narrowed in response, clearly not happy that I had company in my new-found knowledge.

“We ride,” Gideon called out and the entire troop headed into the oncoming night as if the bats of Hades were on our tail. If only. Bats would be preferable to the horse-sized hounds that were in pursuit.

It felt like we rode for hours at that terrifying speed, but eventually, we were forced to slow as the horses tired.

“Dismount.” The call came from the warrior in the lead.

Walk? Was he crazy? Did