I started to go to her, but the guard stepped suddenly into my path. Fear was on her face, too, but also determination. “I cannot let you go out of the gate. I have my orders.”
I wanted to smash her from my path. I forced my rage down. A struggle with her would not help Molly. “Then you go to her, damn you! Can’t you see the woman is in trouble of some kind?”
She stood eye to eye with me, unmoving. “Miles!” she called, and the boy leaped out. “Go see what is wrong with that woman. Quickly now!”
The boy took off like a shot. I stood, with the guard standing squarely before me, and watched helplessly over her shoulder as Miles raced to Molly. When he reached her, he put an arm around her and took her basket on his other arm. Leaning heavily on him, gasping and near weeping, Molly came toward the gate. It seemed to take forever before she was through the gate and in my arms. “Fitz, oh Fitz,” she sobbed.
“Come,” I told her. I turned her away from the guard, walked her away from the gate. I knew I had done the sensible thing, the calm thing, but I felt shamed and small from it.
“Why didn’t you … come to me?” Molly panted.
“The guard would not let me. They have orders I am not to leave Buckkeep,” I said quietly. I could feel her trembling as she leaned against me. I took her around the corner of a warehouse, out of sight of the guards standing gaping in the gate. I held her in my arms until she quieted. “What’s wrong? What happened?” I tried to make my voice soothing. I brushed back the hair that hung about her face. After a few moments she quieted in my arms. Her breathing steadied, but she still trembled.