Before the carriage could pass me by, I decided to go with the lesser of two evils. I jumped up from my hiding place and sprinted through the trees, angling my path so that I stepped out into the moonlight with enough space to spare as it jolted to a stop.
The man sitting up top driving the horses let out a stream of curses that tempted me to flip him off. Instead, I held up both hands to show that I didn't have a weapon. I didn't want to risk trying to guess which side the owners of the carriage were on, so I went with saying nothing.
After a moment, the carriage door opened, and the pungent aroma of whiskey and cigars drifted out to welcome me. The moonlight didn't offer me a clear look at the inhabitants, but it was enough for me to get an idea of who was inside. I saw a portly man sitting opposite a beautifully dressed young woman.
“What is the meaning of this?” he bellowed, clearly pissed.
To my surprise, the young woman – maybe even young enough to be considered a girl – slapped at him with her fan, frowning angrily as he turned toward her. She slapped his knee with her fan again, and I watched in amusement as the man huffed and looked away. She turned to me and smiled widely.
“Excuse my father,” the girl chirped. “He is in quite the mood today.”
“No apologies necessary,” I said back, trying to keep my voice as deep and masculine as possible.
“May I ask what a young man such as yourself is doing out here in the middle of the night?” she asked, her eyes dancing.
Right. Young man. Especially in the dark, there was no way someone would mistake me for a woman.
“I’m on my way to Boston,” I said. “I was wondering if perhaps I could trouble you for a ride if you were going that way.”
“Do you take us for fools?” the man snapped at me. “You will rob us and leave us here.”
I heard the sound of a gun clicking and turned to see the muzzle of some sort of pistol pointing at me. I was pretty sure that he'd only have one shot, and it'd take a while to reload, but I didn't want to consider what would happen if he ended up being accurate with that single shot.
“Come now, Father.” She kept her eyes on me. “He doesn’t look like a criminal.”
“They never do,” her father muttered, eyeing me scornfully. “What is your business in Boston, boy?”
“My business is my own,” I said politely. “But I would be much obliged for your assistance.”
The man's eyes narrowed. “What side do you take in these...disputes? I don't wish to make enemies–”
“Oh, Father, you see rebels and redcoats behind every rock and tree nowadays.” The young woman turned back to me and gave me an even more brilliant smile than before. “Of course, we can assist you.”
Her father glowered at me as I climbed into the carriage, but I didn't get shot or hit, so I was satisfied for the time being.
That lasted until about two minutes into our trip when it became apparent that the young woman – Elizabeth, she insisted I call her – was more interested in whether or not I was married than actually helping out a stranger. It took everything I had to maintain a smile while simultaneously keeping as much distance between us as possible...which was difficult since she kept finding excuses to shift in her seat so her dress would brush against my leg.
It was one thing to have a lesbian flirt with me and have to politely say that I wasn't interested. I had no clue how to handle the attention from someone who thought I was a man.
While the journey was short and uneventful, Elizabeth's attentions and her father's glowers kept it from being pleasant.
She chatted non-stop about parties and dresses, and how much her family’s popularity had risen despite recent events. If it had only been prattling about this and that, I could've simply smiled and nodded, feigning interest while barely paying attention. But that wasn't enough. She wanted to know about me too. Her questions never stopped coming, and I worked hard to be as vague as possible, even after I discovered that they were Loyalists. I didn't want to risk leading them back to the Lightwoods.
I had to admit, as I listened to her talk, that it was a bit surprising how few people believed these 'rebel skirmishes' would amount to anything. To Elizabeth and her father, this was all just a game that would quickly come to an end once the British really put their minds to it.
Ennis told me once that people used to say that the sun never set on the British empire because the Brits had colonized so much of the world that, at any given point in time, the sun was shining on a place that Britain claimed as its own. After listening to Roston Lightwood and his friends, and now Elizabeth and her father, I could understand how such a saying had become popular.
I wondered what they would say if I told them, come August, King George would declare the colonies in official rebellion, and things would quickly escalate from there. Probably the same thing Gracen had done, I knew. They'd think it was a dangerous opinion to have.
And then they'd probably throw me out of the carriage.
It was actually a little sad, once I allowed myself to truly think about it. Sure, there were arrogant people who treated the colonists like second-class citizens and wanted England to defeat the rebels so they could remain in power and comfort. But there were also those who deeply loved their country, who didn't want to be a part of a new one, but rather an equal member of the country they'd always thought of as home.
War was never simple, I reminded myself. Something that wouldn't be any different in my time.
I thought of the internment camps in America during World War II. The innocents who'd died in the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The Germans who'd faced persecution and death even if they hadn't supported Hitler's regime. The Vietnam War and the horrors that had been committed by both sides.
Then I thought about the war I'd fought in. One that had started the moment a few hate-filled individuals had murdered thousands of Americans. Nearly nine years later, we had no end in sight, and people were questioning the wisdom and morality of what we were doing.
No, war was never simple.
Even with all of these thoughts bouncing around in my head, I kept my mouth shut about politics. I probably would've made a better impression if I'd agreed with them, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It would've felt too much like a betrayal. The best I could do was keep silent.
As soon as we passed through the siege line, I interrupted Elizabeth's description of her latest dress.
“If you'll excuse me.” I gave a polite smile to both Elizabeth and her father. “I believe I'll walk from here.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you a rebel soldier, boy?”
“No,” I said as I leaned closer to the door. If he tried to stop me, I'd make a jump for it. Hopefully, they'd be too worried about the Colonial Army to try to go after me.
“Then we'll take you into the city.” Elizabeth said it like it was a done deal. “You certainly don't want to be left out here with those rebels.” She sniffed, her pretty face twisting into something unattractive.
I shook my head. “I appreciate the ride, but I'd like to stretch my legs a bit. They're stiff from sitting so long.”
I didn't add that I knew things would be fairly calm for the rest of the year. There'd be some minor skirmishes, some raids, that sort of thing, but the city would stay as it was until the new year. After that, the British would withdraw and the Americans would have the city. The major danger had passed, so I'd most likely be safe between the Colonial Army and the city limits.
Besides, this was where Gracen had found me, so even if it wasn't exactly safe, if I ever wanted to get home, this was where I had to be.
The carriage had slowed to a walk as the road began to curve. I remembered this area and knew that I had to get out now or I'd never find my way back in the dark.
“If the ungrateful bastard doesn't want to ride with us anymore, I say good riddance.”
Before I could respond, Elizabeth's father pushed open the carriage door and unceremoniously shoved me
out. I heard Elizabeth give a scream of protest, but I was more concerned with curling my body so that I landed on my shoulder rather than my face.
By the time I got up, my shoulder and arm throbbing, the carriage was several yards away. At least I'd managed to hang on to my pillowcase of belongings, I thought as I stretched myself out, checking to make sure that some bruises and scrapes were all I had. The cut on my shoulder felt tender, but I didn't feel any blood, which was good. I couldn't, however, say the same for my leg. The wound there had been deeper, so it was taking longer to heal. Even in the dim light, I saw a few new dark spots on my pants, but it could bear my weight.
I sighed. I needed to find somewhere to sleep for the rest of the night. I wasn't sure of the exact spot where Gracen had found me, so I'd need to walk every inch of the area and hope that I tripped something, and it took me back to my time. If I didn't find anything by the time my food supplies ran out, I'd change into the one dress I'd brought and go into the city to decide what to do next.
With a set plan in my mind, I looked around for the best possible place to steal a few hours of sleep. My journey, I knew, was far from over.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I woke with a start at the touch of a hand on my shoulder, and immediately kicked out, registering a cry of pain when I connected with something. Muscle memory took over even before I'd fully woken, and I twisted away from the hand, pushing myself into a crouch, hands curled into fists. My breaths came in gasps, my heart beating like a hammer in my chest as adrenaline coursed through me.
“Honor, stop!”
I froze at the familiar voice, staring as Gracen held up his hands in surrender. It took my brain a few seconds to catch up and allow my body to relax. Still, I couldn't quite believe he was here. My mind whirled at the odds, the incredible improbability of this man finding me in this same place two separate times. Fate had to be at work.
And he looked like shit. His clothes were rumpled and dirty as if he'd been sleeping in them for a while. His curls were wild, and there were even bits of leaves in his hair. His skin was pale, except for the dark circles under his eyes.
What the hell had happened to him in the week since I'd last seen him?
“Gracen?” I finally managed to say his name.
He smiled at me, but it was a weak smile and didn't quite reach his eyes. “Honor, what are you doing here?” He sounded even more tired than he looked, which was saying something.
“I could ask you the same question,” I countered, my mind still reeling. I believed I’d never see him again. “Why aren't you with your unit...I mean, your regiment?”
He looked away, a dark flush creeping up his neck. The realization hit me all at once.
He'd never joined the army. That might have been what he told his father, but he’d never actually enlisted.
“Did they recognize you from before?” I looked around, wondering how much danger we were in.
He shook his head, giving me a quick glance. “I didn't give them the opportunity to. How could I after the things you said? How passionately you believed them?” He looked at me now. “I am an educated man, Honor, and I've never been one to believe in the superstitions of others...but something about how ardently you argued for your cause...” His voice trailed off for a moment, and then he finished his thought. “It almost made me believe.”
I had absolutely no idea how to respond. Despite my best efforts, I hadn't been able to completely keep myself from thinking about what I'd say if I saw him again. It'd seemed like such a remote possibility that I told myself no harm could come of it. Except it had, and now that it was here, my mind was inexplicably blank.
“You have no idea how happy I am that you're here.” His voice broke through my thoughts. “I never thought I would see you again.”
“Then why did you leave in the first place?” I asked. Maybe it was an inane question, and I had a feeling I'd hate the answer, but I asked it anyway. I needed to know for certain.
The conflict was written on his face, and a part of me was glad that I wasn’t the only one going through such emotional turmoil. It would've been worse, I thought, if it'd been easy for him to walk away. If I hadn't meant enough to him for it to be painful.
“Gracen?” I prodded. I didn't know if I'd get another chance to ask him, so I was going to push until I got an answer, no matter if I liked it or not.
“I couldn’t stay there anymore.” He looked at me, his eyes blazing. “Not while you were there.”
I rolled my eyes. Was he serious? First, he said he was glad to see me, then he said he couldn't be near me. Men. I gave an exasperated sigh. “Do you know how contradicting you sound right now?”
“I know, I know,” he said as he ruffled his hair and turned away. “This hasn’t been easy for me.”
“Easy for you?” I stared at him, unable to believe what he just said. Anger sparked inside me, burning past everything else to set free the words I'd held back. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through since you decided to disappear?” I let every negative emotion bleed into my words, but managed to keep my tears back. “I gave myself to you, trusted you, and when you didn't like what you heard about me, you accused me of being a manipulative slut!”
His eyes were wide when he turned around. “I never said–”
“You might as well have,” I snapped. I wanted all of this out. I needed to have it gone. So I could have closure before I went home. “As soon as you heard you weren't the one who took my precious virginity, you immediately jumped to the conclusion that I'd seduced you to try and trap you in a marriage.”
He at least had the decency to look embarrassed. He started to reach for me, then dropped his hands. “I apologize, truly I do. I wasn't myself that morning. The whole thing took me quite by surprise, and I admit that I didn't handle it well.”
“That’s an understatement,” I muttered. I folded my arms, determined to keep strong. “You acted like a...child, and then ran away.”
“I couldn’t think of a better solution.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes but didn't hold back what I was thinking. “That wasn’t a solution, Gracen, that was a fear of confrontation.” I let the silence sit between us as I rubbed my arms. I hadn't realized until now how early it was, how the sun hadn't yet burned off the chill. When I finally spoke, my voice was soft, “Do you have any idea how much I hated you for leaving like that?”
His shoulders sagged, and he leaned against a nearby tree, a defeated look on his face. I didn't understand him, didn't understand what he was thinking. He'd stood up to his father about the war, but had fled when faced with having to explain what happened between the two of us.
Maybe I didn't mean enough for him to show that sort of bravery and strength. The thought tore at me.
“What were you expecting would happen?” I asked, taking a step closer. “That you could pretend to your father that you were in the army and when all this was over go home like nothing had changed?”
I wanted to tell him that he'd have years to wait if he thought that.
“I didn’t have a plan,” he admitted, his tone wry. “It seems that I do unwise things when I'm around you.”
I winced as his comment and rubbed my forehead. “And what were you thinking – or not thinking – that I'd be doing during all this? Or did you even care about that at all?”
Gracen looked up at me. “I care. How could you even question that?”
I stared at him. Was he serious? A thought occurred to me. “Did you think that when all this was over, I'd be waiting for you at the estate? Waiting for you to come back?”
He waited for a moment before answering. “I prayed you would be.”
He wasn't kidding. I could see it on his face.
“How could you possibly think that? Any of that?”
Gracen sighed and closed his eyes.
“Do you have any idea how bad–?”
“I was married once.”
The statement stopp
ed me cold. I looked at him, but his eyes were still closed.
“Her name was Silva,” he continued. “She was seventeen when we married, but I'd loved her since she was thirteen.”
I sat on the ground across from him, watching. Waiting. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear him talk about this woman he'd loved so much. I knew it couldn't have a happy ending, not if he was supposed to marry Clara now.
“We had only been married for a few months when she told me we were expecting our first child. We were so happy. Even my father was happy, and I'd never seen him happy before.” His eyes opened, but the look in them said he was far away. “I supposed he must've been, with my mother, but I was too young when she died to remember him that way.”
“What happened?” I didn't want to ask it, but I had to know.
He finally looked at me. His words were quiet, even. “She died in childbirth, and our son died with her. In one night, I lost everything. Everyone I ever loved was gone.” His voice broke.
Without thinking about it, I crossed the short distance between us and wrapped my arms around him. He stiffened at first, then relaxed against me. I held him close, cradling his head against my chest and buried my face in his hair as tears welled up in my own eyes. I wondered if he'd ever let himself cry for his wife and child, or if his father had made that impossible too.
“I never thought I would be able to love anyone like that again.” Gracen's voice was muffled until he pulled back and met my gaze. “Until I met you, Honor Daviot.”
I swallowed hard. I couldn't let myself hope that he meant what I so desperately wanted to believe he meant.
“Forgive me, Honor.” He cupped my cheek, his eyes dark and shining. “Forgive me for all of those horrible things I said to you.”