Page 89 of A Thief to Die For

Agatha has taken the bed. I drift off in the lounge chair, wondering where Marian is right now. And before I know it, she’s in my dreams.

Some part of me is aware that none of this is real as we make our escape. I don’t care.

I can’t take my eyes off her as she gallops her horse beside mine. Her smile keeps growing the further we get from Notting.

‘Ryland,’ Marian says, slowing. ‘Look. Vagabonds.’

I see them.

‘Take my reins,’ she says, then spins to face backwards in her saddle. I wrap them around my pommel, and we both pull our bows, working together, me covering us in the front, as she covers us from behind.

Our partnership doesn’t end when we make camp under the stars, her head nestled against my shoulder. I marvel at how I got so lucky. She shivers as I stroke her hair.

‘Are you cold?’ I don’t wait for her answer. Instead, I warm her by getting acquainted with her neck.

We hunt for hares and ptarmigan as we travel. She picks me berries. I kiss the flavour of them off her lips.

‘The forest – it’s red?’ she says, mouth agape as we view it from the hilltop.

‘Some say it’s orange,’ I mutter, and chuckle. Then I tell her why that made me laugh. There isn’t anything I don’t want her to know.

I point out the mountains, rolling hills and canyons. We stop at rivers for water. Even venture in for a swim. She clings to me in the cold, and I can’t help but kiss her. Then I carry her to the bank, and we lose all track of time.

We travel long days, and the nights are too short.

At the first glimpse of Kingsland’s coal mine, I tell her about the collapse – something I can’t believe I haven’t shared yet, as it was the catalyst for everything.

At Kingsland’s fence, she looks confused.

‘Don’t touch it,’ I warn. ‘It’s electrified. It’ll hurt you.’

‘It’s buzzing,’ she says with fascination, dismounting her horse. She goes to it, reaching.

‘Marian! Don’t!’ I shout. I jump from Duke and race to her, but I’m too late. She touches the metal links, jolts once and crumples to the ground.

‘Marian!’ I drop to my knees and gather her in my arms, but she’s so still. Too still. Desperately, I brush the hair from her face. ‘No, no, no.’

Kingsland soldiers come running from the gate.

‘She’s not breathing!’ I yell to them. ‘Someone help! Get Dr Henshaw.’

‘Can you heal her?’ asks a woman.

I blink. ‘No, get the doctor.’

‘She’s not your wife?’ asks another soldier. ‘Then where is your wife?’

‘Forget my wife,’ I snarl. ‘There’s only Marian.’ I start compressions on her chest. ‘Don’t you dare leave me,’ I beg her.

One of the soldiers grabs my shoulder and tries to pull me away.

‘Stop it!’ I shout, and shove him.

His cry as he falls startles me awake. My breaths come hard, and it takes time to orient myself in the dark room. Atlas’s cabin. I run a hand through my hair, then sit up in the chair.

I become aware of a person’s heavy breaths – someone’s sprawled at my feet. ‘Agatha?’ As my eyes adjust, I make out the outline of her frame. It looks like she’s fallen.

Or like she was pushed.