She and Beko said very little. After their intimacy, the air between them had felt loaded and tense, a potential that kept Nomi warm, nervous and expectant. But since finding the dead horses, breaking camp and heading for the border, the tension had evaporated. He had hardly looked at her, and the warmth in her belly had faded to a cool distance. So she sat behind him and smelled his familiar smell, and any thoughts she had of reaching out and holding herself against his back were soon dispelled.

“Are you worried?” she asked at last. The morning was drawing on and the sun was high. They would be at the border with the Pavissia Steppes soon, and the next stage of their troubled voyage would begin.

“Concerned that things will fall apart.” He sighed and stretched his arms above his head, the horse trotting on of its own accord. Nomi heard Beko's joints click and saw muscles tensing beneath his shirt. Are my scratches still on his back? I fear they'll fade, never to be replaced.

“Ramus . . .” But she was not entirely sure what she wanted to say.

“We had a strong group, Nomi,” Beko said. “Two Voyagers with high hopes, myself and five Serians I trust with my life. Enough horses and equipment. But now we're fractured. And we've hardly even begun.”

“What do you think of what Ramus said?” The question had been burning, because none of the Serians had commented on the argument and what had been revealed.

Beko shook his head but did not turn around. “That's none of my business, and I've no right to judge.”

“Thank you,” she said, though she was not certain he had spoken through kindness.

They rode in silence once again. She looked back at Noon, Ramin and Konrad bringing up the rear, and ahead at Rhiana, where she scouted their route half a mile away. She could just see the tall Serian, looking around confidently, as her horse climbed a slight incline. Nomi wished she could feel as much confidence . . . but she also wondered at the simplicity that Ramus claimed she dwelled within. Nothing in my life is simple, she thought bitterly. Ramus was so wrong there.

“And us?” she whispered, surprising the silence.

Beko turned around and looked at her, and she could read nothing in his eyes. That frightened her. She remembered his face above hers, eyes half-closed, hair damp with sweat and hanging beside his face. There had been desire there, and a fulfillment of an aged lust.

“That caused problems,” he said. “Right now, and for the duration of the voyage, I'm your Serian captain.” He turned away and took up the reins, urging the horse to catch up with Rhiana.