Blackmane repositioned her against him. ‘No one’s going to Hampstead Keep. I’m taking you somewhere safe. I just need you to stay awake until we get there.’

She could do that. She could stay awake if he asked her to. But a breath later, she was drifting off again.

‘Belle.’

She just needed a small rest, some sleep to recharge. Then she would do everything he needed her to do.

‘Belle.’

It was so much effort to come back to him. ‘Mmm?’

‘You still awake? Just resting?’

She was vaguely aware of the rocking motion of the horse they were riding on. It was not ideal when trying to remain awake. ‘Yes, resting.’

‘But you’re all right?’

Of course she was all right. His arms were the safest place on earth.

‘How’s the pain?’

So many questions. It was almost as if he wanted her to stay awake.

She attempted to gauge her pain level and failed. It was likely consistent with being hit by an arrow. ‘Better when my eyes are closed.’

Warm lips pressed against her forehead. That made her want to open her eyes, to look up at him, but everything felt so heavy.

‘Keep them closed if it helps,’ Blackmane said. ‘We’re nearly there. But I need you to wake up when we get there.’

She thought she nodded, but she must have only done it in her head because Blackmane said her name again. ‘Belle. Will you wake for me when we get there?’

She forced her eyes open. It took all of her strength, but she did it for him. His face was a blur. ‘Yes. When we get there.’

‘Good.’

Then, what felt like three seconds later, she heard, ‘Belle, I need you to wake up.’ Warm fingers pressed against her neck. ‘Come on. You said you would wake up, so wake up.’

She was no longer on the horse. Everything was still now.

‘Isabel, I need you to open your eyes and look at me.’

That was a new voice, a female one. Familiar, maybe. She blinked her eyes open to see who it was. It was Genevieve, the Emlyn woman from the caves.

‘Is the arrow out?’ she asked.

Genevieve appeared relieved, and she turned her attention back to the wound, poking and prodding. ‘Give her something to bite down on.’

With enormous effort, Isabel turned her head, looking for Blackmane. He appeared above her, brushing hair back from her face. She had never seen him so anxious. His face was beaded with sweat. ‘I told you I would wake up.’

He bent, touching his forehead to hers. ‘You did. I need you to bite down on this for me. Can you do that?’

‘Yes,’ she said with no idea what she was agreeing to. But if he needed her to do it, she would.

A moment later, she tasted leather.

Leather?