Written in 59 minutes.

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When Valentin had laid out the task, Jason had felt the first stirrings of unease. Valentin was the heir to an old title and powerful family. Why was he sending a mercenary to fetch the woman he planned to marry? No carriage or servants to look after her or guard her reputation, just a bag of coins to secure rooms at inns between Shadwell and Port Tonderah.

But the promised price for the job could not be dismissed, and if Jason refused the contract, Valentin would simply turn to another. Perhaps someone with less conscience or morals. Jason had swept aside his concerns, assuring himself that sometimes it was better to travel incognito. No one would expect Valentin Cassadine’s promised bride to sweep into the capital without an entourage to announce her arrival. With the tumultuous tidings in Tonderah, Valentin likely knew best how to secure his future wife’s safety.

So Jason had accepted the task and headed north to Shadwell, a speck that could scarcely be called a village on the other side of Rhigwyn, almost at the border. It was a week’s ride, and would be twice to the capital from there. But the fee would ensure Jason would not have to take any more contracts this winter and could retire to the solitude of his home near Wymoor.

He’d thoroughly convinced himself that this was nothing but a guard duty. No doubt this Elizabeth was the spoiled daughter of a local lord, a minor noble who had coin or some sort of leverage Valentin intended to wield against Faison and his faction in the capital.

Then he’d arrived in Shadwell and realized quickly there was no local lord. No large estates. It was little more than a collection of buildings crowded near a river, and solitary cottages dotting the landscape.

He found Elizabeth, whose surname he was never given, at the end of a dirt road. He’d had to stop at the local inn for directions to Eldia — not the manor house he would expect to be named a goddess who sat in judgment of men, but a one story cottage, set back in a clearing with a kitchen garden and small stable just beyond.

The woman who had stepped outside was nothing like he’d expected, and as far from the spoiled pampered girl he’d already resigned himself to escorting south. She was slight, with pale, porcelain skin, and chestnut hair gathered at the nape of her neck. Though she still looked young, she’d seen more summers than a girl fresh from schoolroom.

And the resignation in her expression when she’d reluctantly admitted to being Valentin’s betrothed stirred that unease again, but Jason forced it down. She’d hardly be the first to contract an unhappy marriage, and judging from her surroundings, it would only improve her lot. Perhaps Valentin had come across her and been lured to make a socially imbalanced match by her beauty.

Whatever the Cassadine’s reasons, Jason did not care. He’d located the woman, and confirmed her identity. All that remained was securing their departure.

“You were not expecting me?” Jason asked, still remaining just inside the gate. There was nothing in her posture, in her still expression that suggested he had permission to go further. “You seem surprised to see. Perhaps you thought Valentin would send someone else?”

“I had hoped he would send no one at all,” Elizabeth said, her voice wry, almost amused. It was a contradiction to the caution he saw in her posture, and it gave him pause. She did not welcome the betrothal? Or perhaps she’d had second thoughts? And Valentin had not arranged this departure in advance?

The unease was growing, a swirling pit in his belly, wondering if this was the straightforward task Valentin had described, or something else. He forced it down, reminding him of the freedom that would be his if he could just complete this task. A reluctant bride was not an unwilling one, and she had until she stood in the temple before the clerics to speak her mind.

“Perhaps a message was lost before it reached you,” Jason said. “When can you be ready to leave?”

Her expression flattened, her lips pressed together so hard that they nearly disappeared. Then she sighed, looked back at the house for a long moment, then up at the sun peeking through the canopy of trees.

“It will be twilight soon, and it is not safe to travel at night. There are brigands and thieves along the border. I can be ready to go in the morning.” Elizabeth stepped forward now, coming fully into the sunlight, stopping just a few feet from him. He saw now that her eyes were a clear deep blue, and the simple green dress she wore had thinning fabric and frayed hems.

Valentin was marrying a woman who lived in near isolation with nothing to her name? Was there some rich relative promising a dowry? Reminding himself it was none of his affair, Jason nodded. “Morning is suitable. I assume you can ride?”

“Better than most, yes. Old Gert in the village runs the inn. She’ll put you up for the night. Do you know the way or shall I direct you?”

“I came through that way. Thank you.” Jason stepped back, nearly turned away, then looked back at her. “Will that be enough time? I was not told that it was urgent, and I am sure Valentin would understand that you had no warning.”

Her lips curved into a smile, but her eyes remained sober. “I’m sure he intended it that way. You needn’t worry about disappointing him. I can be ready by the morning.” She hesitated. “You did not give your name.”

“Jason. Jason Morgan.” He tipped his head. “He did not give me your surname or else I would not have used your given name.”

“Because he did not know it. And never cared to learn. Barrett. Elizabeth Barrett.”

Barrett. The name tugged at him, but he didn’t know why. And he didn’t know what to make of the woman who bore the name or that Valentin was marrying someone whose name he did not know.

But still, he put it away. It was not for him to ask questions. If she was willing to go, then he would deliver her to Valentin, collect his fee, and leave them to their lives.

“Until the morning then, Miss Barrett.”

He nodded at her, then went back to his horse. She remained standing there, not moving, until he’d turned back towards the village, and was on his way.

—

She watched him go, the strange man who was so carefully polite with his words, but had weighed every one of her words and found them wanting. He wasn’t the kind of man she’d expected Valentin to send, but then, as she’d told Jason, she’d hoped never to find out.

Elizabeth returned to the cottage, heading straight for the back room that served as her bedroom. Into a cloth bag she carefully laid pieces of her limited wardrobe. Two dresses, a shift, chemise, and nightgown. Wool socks, a pair of stockings, and a brush for her hair.

Then she went to the large oak cupboard in the corner of the room. Inside was a trio of shelves. The lowest shelf held various jars and boxes of herbs. She sifted through them, thinking of what she might need during the trip.

The second shelf held some of her books and a collection of wax candles of varying colors. She retrieved two white, one red, and a green candle.

On the top shelf, in the corner, Elizabeth found the black box. She took it down and opened it. The box was lined with velvet and held a set of identical daggers with a jeweled hilt. Elizabeth lifted one and tested the tip, wincing slightly when it drew blood.

She tested it in her hand, then with a slight twist of her wrist twirled it in the air, then snatching it back. Her lips curved into a smile, much more genuine than the one she’d given outside.

She laid the dagger back in its velvet bed, then tested its sister for its sharpness and for her reflexes. Gratified, she closed the box and set it next to the bag she’d packed. In the morning, she would strap both to the holster she’d carried since childhood.

She closed the cupboard, then went into the kitchen to gather up perishables that would spoil if they went uneaten. There were families to the south that would appreciate the gift, and as she didn’t expect to return, it would be a shame if it went to waste. She wrote a note to her neighbors telling them to dispose of her belongings if she did not return or send word in a month’s time, and to look after her dairy cow which could be sold if necessary.

Elizabeth looked around her tiny home, every corner of it beloved to her. Precious. It was not opulent, and there was no evidence of the world she’d left behind that terrible day in her eleventh year, but it was her home, and she would miss it terribly.

But there was little point in wallowing in self-pity. It wouldn’t solve her problems or stop what was to come.

She’d enjoyed her exile, but it was unfortunately at an end.

—

There was little sun the next morning, the winter light weak and barely lighting Jason’s way as he left the inn and returned to Eldia Cottage. He half-expected Elizabeth Barrett to have made her escape during the night, and he’d spent some time determining how he would explain such a thing to Valentin.

But she stood in her yard, her hands on the bridle of her mare. She wore a thick velvet cloak with the hood already drawn up over her head, tendrils of her hair curling over her forehead.

Jason swung down from his horse. “I should have asked last night if you’d arranged for things to be sent. Or if you needed a cart. I have room in my saddle bags—”

“I have all that I need,” Elizabeth said. She gestured at her own saddlebags, and Jason furrowed his brow. They looked light, nearly non-existent.

“Oh. Then I suppose we should start south. I don’t like the look of the clouds to the north,” Jason told her. “I want to stay ahead of that storm.”

“Then by all means, let us begin.”

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