The dark winter sky rushed toward full dark at an astonishing pace, the wind picking up and blasting mean little flurries from the low roiling clouds as the last of the meager daylight seemed to leach from the bone-chilling air. Ahead of him, Maisie Lindsey navigated the rocky path along the river as if she possessed hooves at the terminus of her legs rather than feet. It took all of Adrian’s concentration to merely keep her in his sight, her black cape blending into the jagged shadows as she rolled ahead of him like fog. After a full hour, his leg screamed and pulled with each step, and his buttock began to cramp. As far as Adrian knew, Maisie Lindsey had not bothered to glance back at him once to be sure he still followed. If she had, Adrian would have tried to engage her in conversation; perhaps then she would slow her pace somewhat. But he would be damned if he would call out to her to beg for reprieve. The way she had looked at him and called him broken outside the courtyard at Melk had stung more than Adrian cared to admit.
