Fool him.
No matter how hard he tried, how hard he worked, at the end of the day, he was always going to be the wrong things.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now was not the time. He had more important things to do than sulk and whine about his failed relationship. If he even got to call it that, when he'd clearly never been more than an especially nice bed warmer. Gods, he really was as dumb as rocks, to think there'd ever been something deeper there.
Wiping his eyes, Leonine pushed off the log—and stopped as his feet shifted the snow and revealed a flash of gold. He crouched down and brushed snow away, until he could scoop the object up. He wiped remaining bits of snow away with his thumb and finally got a good look at it.
A charm, the kind woven into hair, this one shaped like a rearing horse. He bit it gently, and sure enough, it was pure gold. What sort of assassin went around with pure gold charms in their hair? The cocky sort, that was the answer. At least one part of the kill team was a cocky bastard. Good. Those weren't generally hard to find. Leonine rose and tucked the charm away in one of his pouches as he strode back to his horse.
He had enough daylight left he could keep going for a bit, especially since now that he'd reached the woods, there would be better cover from all the snow and wind. Mounting up, he heeled the horse into motion, mind already spinning plans for what he'd do once he reached Tesser.
A good, hot meal was first on his list, followed by proper rest. As much as he wanted to go straight to the hunt, rushing into it ill-prepared would help nothing. Cimar had always emphasized starting with food and rest whenever possible for as long as Leonine had known him.
Venison stew, that would be ideal, loaded with meat and potatoes and vegetables just the right softness, with thick, warm bread to sop up the gravy. Or roasted pork with an herb crust served with roasted apples and spicy greens. Rich mulled wine or a heavily spiced beer, tureens of creamy soup, fresh bread with butter and honey, sweetmeats and sharp cheese served with a fruity liquor…
His stomach growled in protest at the uncalled for torment, and Leonine sighed. If he was really lucky here in the next couple of hours, he might get to have wild hare for dinner. More likely, it would be the dried stuff in his bags and a cup or two of tea.
He should reach Tesser in a few days. In good weather, it took about three days of hard travel by horse, four or five at a more leisurely pace. As it was, he'd be lucky if he made it in less than six. The woods were providing reasonable shelter for the moment, but he'd be leaving them behind in a few more hours. Well, morning. He had every intention of camping in the woods for the night. No way was he sleeping out in the open before he had to, just forget that.
Gods above, he was tired. It felt like he'd had no real rest, even though he had managed to sleep a few hours before heading out. Ever since…
Leonine pinched his eyes shut to fight off the pain and tears. Dwelling and sulking and crying wasn't going to help anything. He'd been spurned. So what. It happened to everyone. Rejection hadn't killed him yet, it wasn't likely to kill him this time, no matter how much it felt like there were knives permanently lodged in his chest.
It was his own stupid fault anyway, for being too excited that last night to sleep well, drinking too much and trying to have fun, even if he didn't really have any proper friends in the castle. He'd also counted on the fun and eventual sleep he'd get after going to tell Everard and Odilia about his knighting and invite them to the official ceremony. He'd been so confident, so stupidly arrogant in his presumptions on the 'reward' he'd get from them…
Well, he'd gotten what he deserved for making such arrogant presumptions.
Movement caught his eye, and he brought up his bow immediately, pulling an arrow from the sheath attached to his saddle and letting fly as the hare spooked and cross his path. At least he wouldn't be eating jerky for dinner now.
Leonine stopped his horse, dismounted, and went to fetch his kill. He drew his knife and dressed the hare quickly, then affixed it to his saddle before mounting again. His mood wasn't completely improved, but damn it, he certainly wasn't as sour as he'd been just a few minutes ago. This was meat aplenty for dinner and breakfast, and if—
A scream of unbridled terror cut through the woods, and all thoughts of food fled. The scream came again, and Leonine heeled his horse into a gallop, rushing down the road. If the problem was anything, it was bandits, and they were especially nasty in winter, when travelers were scarce and food that much harder to come by.
Just as he was beginning to fear he'd have to risk going off the road to find the problem, he rounded a bend and saw them. Two travelers, man and woman, and four bandits, swords out, clearly ready to kill.
Leonine drew his bow again and fired rapidly. Never an easy or reliable thing to do from a charging horse, but he managed to hit two of them and cause general mayhem, which was all he needed.
Reaching them, he swapped bow for sword and cut down the two injured ones, one right after the other, leaving large splashes of blood across the snow.
The other two bandits were bolting for the trees. Leonine swung out of his saddle, grabbed his bow again, and fired, one, two, and three when the second arrow missed as the bastard unexpectedly ducked. As they fell, he swapped back to his sword and stormed across the field to finish the job. One simply needed to be put out of his misery. The other made a feeble attempt to fight back, and collapsed with a dying plea into the snow, his guts spilling out as he went.
Cleaning his sword, Leonine turned away to head back to the victims, eyes skimming for any lingering problems. There were no horses, but that was hardly surprising; horses were expensive, and bandits lived from one theft to the next.
Satisfied the threat had been dealt with, he finally turned his attention to the victims. "Have either of you been—"
He stopped, heart dropping into his stomach as he stared at Everard and Odilia. No. No, no, no no. That wasn't fair. They never traveled further than the city market if they could help it. What in the hells were they doing here?
"Sir Leonine!" Odilia said, looking like she was about to step forward, then stopping.
Sir Leonine. The words were another slap in the face. They were so done with him that they wouldn't call him Lee anymore. Just full formality. Like he was a stranger. Like he was nobody to them.
Too much and never enough, that was him. Well, fine, two could play that game. Three. Whatever.
"Master Innskeep, good Mistress. Have either of you taken injury?" Even as he asked, he finally registered that Odilia was in fact wounded. It looked like she'd thrown up her arm to protect against a swing, and it had given her a pretty good slice.
Fuck, he should have noticed that immediately. Sheathing his sword, Leonine strode over to his horse and dug out the healing kit. Returning to the pair, he said, "Sit!"
Odilia obeyed, moving to a log that had been drug over to one of the fire pits scattered around the field, which was a well-known campsite for people traveling between the two cities.
Leonine knelt in front of her, removing his heavy leather gloves, leaving only the fingerless wool ones beneath them, and unrolled the healer's kit. He gently took her arm, feeling sick at heart all the while that he was so close, so fucking close, and yet oceans away and always would be now.
First he pulled out a bottle of alcohol, clear and flavorless, a trick he'd learned as a boy from a woman who'd cleaned up the scrapes he'd acquired getting into one fight or another. "This will hurt, but it will help prevent infection." When she nodded, he dumped the alcohol across the wound, at the same time feeding magic into her to mitigate the pain somewhat. He couldn't stop it entirely, his magic wasn't really inclined that way, but it did seem to help a bit.