A flash of movement caught my eye, and I stopped, scanning the forest to either side of the road. Bears and mountain cats were common enough around here, but if the horse had scented a predator, she’d have been uncontrollable. The wind gusted through the trees and I thought I heard the crackle of breaking underbrush, though I couldn’t be sure. My pulse quickened, a prickle of anxiety running down my spine. Highwayman? Robbery wasn’t common this far north of the Ocean Road, but it was possible.

“Hello?” I called out, gathering up the reins. “Is someone there?”

No answer, but anyone intending to rob me was unlikely to reply. My trepidation grew. I’d ridden this road rain, snow, and shine, and never felt a moment’s fear before. Fleur pranced beneath me, sensing my anxiety.

The wind rose again, no longer gentle, but like angry fingers tugging at my hair. The sun ducked behind a cloud, turning the air chill. My eyes unconsciously turned to Forsaken Mountain, looming in the distance. I was halfway between home and town, but Jérôme Girard’s farm was nearby. I could ride there and ask his son Christophe to accompany me the rest of the way.

But what if he laughed at me for being such a ninny, scared of noises in the underbrush that were probably from a squirrel or a snake? Despite a lifetime proving to the contrary, everyone acted like I was already a city girl, and this would only prove their point. I circled and stared back the way I came. I could ride back and wait for my brother, but what if something had kept him in Trianon and he wasn’t even coming?

I’ll gallop home, I decided. Let whoever’s lurking in the woods try and catch me. Turning Fleur around, I abruptly hauled on the reins. The basket slipped from my hand and smashed against the ground, yellow yolks mixing with the mud.

A cloaked rider blocked the road.

My heart leapt. Fleur wheeled around, and I laid the ends of my reins to her haunches. “Hah!” I shouted as she surged forward.

“Cécile! Cécile, wait! It’s me!”

A familiar voice. Gentler this time, I reined in and looked over my shoulder. “Luc?”

“Yes, it’s me, Cécile.” He trotted over to me, pulling back his hood to reveal his face.

“What are you doing sneaking about like that?” I said. “You scared the wits out of me.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t certain it was you at first. Sorry about the eggs.”

An apology that didn’t explain at all why he’d been lurking in the bushes in the first place.

“I haven’t seen you in quite some time. Where have you been?” I asked the question even though I knew the answer. His father was gamekeeper on an estate not far from our farm, but several months ago, Luc had taken off for Trianon. My brother and other townsfolk had caught wind that Luc had had a bit of luck betting on the horses and playing at cards, and was now living the high life spending his winnings.