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“Let me down!”

I pull Étoile to a stop.

Boone immediately tries to swing one leg over the saddle. I catch his thigh and drag it back.

“Try that again,” I say quietly against his ear, “and you will spend the rest of this journey tied in front of me. I would rather not do that to you, but do not mistake my preference for hesitation.”

He stops moving.

I urge Étoile forward.

Boone cries quietly for the next several miles, wiping his face against his sleeve whenever the tears become too much. I keep one arm around him and say nothing. There is nothing I can give him that he wants, and every mile we put between ourselves and Villeneuve makes me the person responsible for taking him farther from his father. Again.

I accept that.

Better he hate me inside the castle than disappear from my life somewhere beyond its walls.

By midday, exhaustion begins winning where threats failed. Boone’s resistance weakens until he no longer tries to pull my arm away, though every so often he seems to remember where we’re going and goes rigid against me. When we stop beside a stream to let Étoile drink, he tries to slide from the saddle again.

I catch him around the middle and pull him closer. This time I tie him to the saddle horn. He fights me until whatever little strength he has left runs out. His head drops against my arm.

“I want my dad,” he says.

I have no answer for him.

The mountain grows colder as we climb, the road disappearing under patches of old snow and the trees thinning around us. I wrap his coat around his shoulders. Boone has stopped fighting entirely by the time the castle finally appears above the ridge, its dark towers rising against the blue sky.

The moment he sees it, his entire body stiffens.

“Rhys.”

“We’re home.”

He begins struggling again, suddenly finding strength I thought he had exhausted hours ago. Étoile shifts nervously when Boone tries to wrench himself off her. I untie the knots binding his wrists in front of him.

“Stop.”

“I’m not going back in there.”

I close my eyes for half a second, then lower my mouth beside his ear.

“Fight me all you want once we’re inside, Boone. Scream at me, break every damned thing you can get your hands on, tell me you hate me until you lose your voice if that is what you need to do.” I tighten my hold when he tries to pull away again. “But if you attempt to throw yourself from this horse, I’ll lock you in that room. You know I will.”

His body goes still.

The castle gates loom ahead.

Boone doesn’t say another word.

I ride through them with him held firmly against my chest. When Étoile’s hooves strike the familiar stones of the courtyard, Boone turns his head and looks back toward the open gates.

I know exactly what he is looking at.

The road.

The mountain.

The village somewhere far below.