Then again, most Thyres lived along the coast and the others on the steppe like us and neither place was home to these sometimes-deep canyons.

The woods mostly belonged to the Udruns. The fact that we hadn't run into any yet was either sheer luck or they had learned their lesson and stayed away from Thyre war parties.

Hearing a curse and a loud thump behind me, I couldn't stop myself from turning in the saddle and seeing the Thyre who'd been chasing me on the ground after his horse had thrown him, refusing to jump. The Thyre was lucky he hadn't gone head over heels over the front of the horse and down the chasm.

Satisfied that he was out of the picture for now, I once again directed my eyes forward as my horse was still galloping through the forest.

Alas, soon the echo of more voices announced that some of the other Thyres had managed to get over the deep canyon and were again hot on my heels.

"Are you the slowest horse of the bunch?" I asked my horse, who, as if he understood me, quickly let out a loud snort before leaping over another fallen tree.

My luck ran out when we reached another canyon, this one so wide, there was no way we would make it across. I desperately looked left and right. I must have missed a turn somewhere; this was definitely not the way we came.

"Left or right?" I asked my horse, who of course didn't have a preference, but it didn't matter. Six riders appeared behind me, spreading out, ready to intercept me whichever way I chose. And four more were coming up right behind them.

Hot tears sprang to my eyes. We came so far.

I stared down the canyon, seeing a river snaking below me, and wondered if it was part of the River Dunway that flowed by Steppenfort. Not that it mattered.

"Get off the horse," the man, whom I now recognized as the same who had manhandled me the whole way and seemed to be the leader of the group, called out. "Now!"

Whatever the river down there was, it was too far for me to jump. If I even hit it.

"Don't do anything stupid," the man advised.

Out of options, I ground my teeth and slid down the side of the horse and onto the ground. I kept the horse's reins in my hand, not wanting it to run and possibly fall down the canyon. He had been a good horse, and I didn't want to see him get hurt.

"Good. Now come over here," my captor demanded.

I gave the deep canyon one more speculative look before I slowly, and with leaden legs, made my way over to the Thyre, grinding my teeth in agitation for having been caught. All the while fear of what he would do to me raced through my mind.

"You gave us quite the chase, kallini," he gritted out, "if Fionbyr didn't want you unharmed, I would have you whipped."

Filing that piece of information away, I glared back at him.

"That doesn't mean we can't have some fun." He snickered.

He jumped off his horse and held up a long leather strap. "Hands together in prayer and up," he demanded.

With a sigh, I put the palms of my hands together and raised them into the air so he could tie them together, while he kept the other end fisted in his hand. Without another word, he remounted his horse, and gave the strap a tug, moving me forward to his side.

When he kicked his horse, I realized he was going to make me run next to him.

"You cost us valuable time and you will pay the price," he threatened and made his horse run faster.

Soon, the others joined us, and I thought frustratedly that my little stunt had been just that and nothing else. I wasn't sure how long he intended for me to run, but after a while, my feet were going numb, and my throat burned. There was a stitch in my side, and I stumbled more than I ran. Until I finally tripped over a large rock and, too exhausted to keep my balance, I skidded down to the ground. The horse dragged me a few feet and my knee hit a root painfully.

Thankfully, the Thyre brought his horse to a standstill so I could get back on my feet. With a smarting knee, I stood bent over at my waist, trying to catch my breath.

"Well, I hope you learned your les—" he interrupted himself and looked up at the sound of thundering hooves closing in on us.

Still panting, I rose to a standing position and stared incredulously at the tall Thyre riding straight for us on the largest horse I had ever seen. His face was a mask of anger and determination. In his right hand, he held a wicked-looking sword up into the air, ready to strike, while his left held on to his horse's reins. His long black braid—calling him out as a warlord—swung over his left shoulder and bounced with the gallop of the horse.

My heart fluttered; he looked exactly like the hero from my books, coming to save the heroine.

"Formation," my captor yelled, pulling his sword out.

I felt no fear as the warlord rode down on us like an avenging warrior, because I knew he was here for me. He was the warlord my father had married me to, as he said he would when he left our camp, and he came to save me from my captors. I didn't delude myself into thinking he was really coming forme, but I had learned enough about the Thyre warlords to know that they would always protect what they consideredtheirs—in this case, me. His mate.