His calmness had been rewarded—Uther had charged him with leading the attack. If only he’d been in time to save those three poor men.
A gentle hand on his arm called him back to the present, and without thinking, out of old habit, he covered Jaina’s hand with his own. She started to pull away, then gave him a slightly strained smile.
“It’s so very, very good to see you again,” he said impulsively.
Her smile softened, became genuine, and she squeezed his arm. “You, too, Your Highness. By the way, thanks for holding your man back when we met.” The smile became a full-fledged grin. “I told you once before, I’m not a fragile little figurine.”
He chuckled. “Indeed not, my lady. You will fight alongside us in these battles.”
She sighed. “I pray there is no fighting—only investigating. But I will do what I must. I always have.”
Jaina withdrew her hand. Arthas hid his disappointment. “As we all do, my lady.”
“Oh stop that. I’m Jaina.”
“And I’m Arthas. Nice to meet you.”
She shoved him then, and they laughed, and suddenly a barrier was gone between them. His heart warmed as he looked down at her, at his side once again. They were facing real danger together for the first time. He was conflicted. He wanted to keep her safe, but he also wanted to let her shine in her abilities. Had he done the right thing? Was it too late? He’d told her that he wasn’t ready, and that had been true—he hadn’t been ready for a lot of things then. But much had changed since that Winter Veil. And some things hadn’t changed at all. All kinds of emotions tore at him, and he pushed them all away except one: simple pleasure in her presence.
They made camp that night before dusk, in a small clearing close to the road. There was no moonlight, only the stars, glittering in the ebony darkness above them. Jaina jokingly lit the fire, conjured some delicious breads and beverages, then declared, “I’m done.” The men laughed and obligingly prepared the rest of the meal, skewering rabbits over spits and unpacking fruits. Wine was passed around, and the feeling was almost more of a group of comrades enjoying the evening than a battle-ready unit investigating a deadly plague.
Afterward, Jaina sat a little bit away from the group. Her eyes were on the skies, a smile playing on her lips. Arthas joined her and offered her more wine. She held out her goblet while he poured and then took a sip.
“This is a lovely vintage, Your H—Arthas,” she said.
“One of the benefits of being a prince,” he replied. He stretched out his long legs and lay down next to her, one arm behind his head as a pillow, the other arm holding the goblet steady on his chest as he looked up at the stars. “What do you think we’re going to find?”
“I don’t know. I was sent as an investigator. I do wonder if it doesn’t have something to do with demons, though, given your encounter with the orcs.”
He nodded in the darkness, then, realizing she couldn’t see him, said, “I agree. I wonder if we shouldn’t have brought a priest along with us now.”
She turned to smile at him. “You’re a paladin, Arthas. The Light works through you. Plus, you swing a weapon better than any priest I’ve seen.”
He grinned at that. The moment hung between them, and just as he started to reach out a hand to her, she sighed and got to her feet, finishing the wine.
“It’s late. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well, Arthas.”
But he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in his bedroll, staring up at the sky, the night sounds contriving to catch his attention even when he did start to drift off. He could take it no more. He’d always been impulsive, and he knew it, but dammit—
He threw back the blankets and sat up. The camp was still. They were in no danger here, so there was no one set to watch. Quietly, Arthas rose and went to the area where he knew Jaina was sleeping. He knelt down beside her and brushed her hair back from her face.
“Jaina,” he whispered, “wake up.”
As she had done that night so long ago, she again awoke in silence and unafraid, blinking up at him curiously.
He grinned. “You up for an adventure?”
She tilted her head, smiling, the memories obviously coming back to her as well. “What sort of an adventure?” she countered.
“Trust me.”
“I always have, Arthas.”
They spoke in whispers, their breath visible in the cold night air. She was propped up on one elbow now, and he imitated her, reaching with his other hand to touch her face. She did not pull back.
“Jaina…I think there was a reason we were brought together again.”
There it was, the little furrow in her brow. “Of course. Your father sent you because—”
“No, no. More than that. We’re working together as a team now. We—we work well that way.”
She was very still. He continued to caress the smooth curve of her cheek.
“I—when this is all over—maybe we can…talk. You know.”
“About what ended at Winter Veil?”
“No. Not about endings. About beginnings. Because things have felt very incomplete to me without you. You know me like no one else does, Jaina, and I’ve missed that.”
She was silent for a long moment, then sighed softly and leaned her cheek into his hand. He shivered as she turned her head and kissed his palm.
“I have never been able to deny you, Arthas,” she said, a hint of laughter in her voice. “And yes. It feels incomplete to me, too. I’ve missed you very much.”
Relief washed over him and he leaned forward, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her passionately. They would get to the bottom of this mystery together, solve it, and come home heroes. Then they’d get married—maybe in the spring. He wanted to see her showered with rose petals. And later there’d be those fair-haired children Jaina had talked about.
They were not intimate, not here, surrounded as they were by Arthas’s men, but he did join her under the blankets until the steely dawn called him reluctantly back to his own bed. Before he left, though, he caught her in his arms and held her tightly.
He did sleep a little then, secure in the knowledge that nothing—no plague, no demon, no mystery could stand up to the joined efforts of Prince Arthas Menethil, paladin of the Light, and Lady Jaina Proudmoore, mage. They’d see it through together—whatever it took.
Arthas was pushing his men too hard and he knew it, but time was a precious resource and could not be squandered. He felt a tug of guilt when he saw Jaina chewing on some dried meat as they rode. The Light refreshed him when he worked with it; magi drew on different energies, and he knew that Jaina was exhausted after the superb effort she had put forth earlier. But there was no time for rest, not when thousands of lives depended upon their actions.
He’d been sent on a mission to find out what was going on and stop it. The mystery was starting to unravel, but he was beginning to doubt his ability to halt the plague. Nothing was as easy as it had looked at first. Still, Arthas would not give up. Could not give up. He had vowed to do whatever it took to stop this, to save his people, and so he would.
They saw and smelled the smoke rising in the sky before they reached the gates of Andorhal. Arthas hoped that if the town had burned, then maybe at least the grain had been destroyed as well, and then felt a twinge of guilt at the callousness of the thought. He buried it in action, kicking his mount hard and riding through the gates, expecting to be assaulted at any moment.
Around them buildings burned, black smoke stinging his eyes and making him cough. Through tear-filled eyes he peered around. There were no villagers, but neither were there any undead. What was—