Rayne felt cold, despite the bed’s warmth. Next to him, Aebigal shifted her body, again. Great with child, she struggled to find a position wherein she could sleep. He hadn’t wanted to stop, not even for one night, certain the duke’s men would converge on them at every bend in the road. Weariness besieged them, more so his pregnant wife. He’d known Aebigal needed rest, although she would never have said so.
Their main encampment lay two days out. He’d taken a great risk returning to their abandoned homestead, but other than the cold stone of the catacombs, there was nothing else nearby. One night, then they would push through until they rejoined the rebellion.
He stared at the crossbeams. With an absence of regular upkeep, sections of the roof showed signs of thinning. Even now, the wind desired to penetrate and invade their sanctuary. He longed for a time when his greatest concern was patching the roof. With the stores full of blessed wheat and the bellies of his people satiated with enchanted bread, Duke Kiergaard’s allegiance spell no longer enslaved the people.
Again, my sincere thanks.