His horse skittish and nervous in the cold water, but he forced it across, his eyes burning with a frustrated fire. On the far side, the land rose steeply towards a ridge of rock and heather. The mist was thickening now, clinging to the ground in damp gray shrouds. Visibility was shrinking with every passing minute. The huntsman called out that the fox had likely gone to ground.
The chase was effectively over. All that was left was the long, weary ride home. It was then that Julian Thorne made his final foolish move. A high, crumbling stone wall stood between them and the ridge. It was a reckless jump, especially in the fading light and with a tired horse.
But Thorne saw his chance to, finally, definitively, leave his cousin behind. He aimed his bay at the wall and spurred it hard. The horse rose, a beautiful, desperate arc against the gray sky. But its back legs caught the top stones. There was a sickening crunch of rock and a cry of alarm.
The horse stumbled on landing, throwing Julian from the saddle. He hit the ground hard and the horse panicked, bolted into the mist, and was gone. One second. Two seconds. Three.
The remaining riders stared in shock. It was Eleanor who moved first. She turned Perseus without a word and trotted to where her cousin lay in a heap by the wall. Alister was only a moment behind her. Julian was alive, but his face was white with pain.
He was clutching his ankle, cursing in a low, vicious stream. The blasted horse. My ankle. It's broken. Eleanor dismounted, her movements weary but certain.
She knelt beside him. It may be twisted, not broken. Can you put any weight on it? Of course I can't, you fool. He snarled.
His vanity obliterated by pain and humiliation. She ignored the insult. Her hands were surprisingly gentle as she examined the injury. Her touch firm and knowledgeable. It is swelling badly.
You cannot walk on it. She looked around, her gaze piercing the deepening twilight. The tenant farm at Hollowdale is just over that ridge. Less than a half a mile. They can send for a cart for you.
She looked at Alister. And for the first time, she addressed him directly. Her eyes, he saw now, were a clear, intelligent green. Your grace, if one of your men could help me get him onto my horse, I can lead him to the farm. Alister was struck dumb for a moment.