Bartholomew ran down the corridor to the stables, carrying the last of Gaston’s possessions. The saddlebags were almost completely packed, and he had retrieved the last of his knight’s belongings from his cell. He felt rushed, for he had not prepared as well as he might have preferred, since he had been dispatched to watch over the lady. The steeds still needed to be saddled, although they were already fed and rested. He hastened to have all prepared by the time the vows were exchanged.
Gaston never lingered once his choice was made.
Bartholomew had just dropped the saddle onto Fantôme’s back when he heard his name whispered from the shadows. His heart leapt with certainty of who it must be, and he feared for her safety. He pivoted in silence, seeking Leila’s presence.
She was in the co
