‘Did you think I would let you go?’ He drew the horse into a walk, guiding the animal back towards the place where they had left Rurik. ‘You belong to me, Breanne. You always have.’ His voice was silken, and it made her skin crawl.
She tried to remain calm, but inwardly, she was trembling. Was Rurik still alive? Would anyone come for her? The blood rushed to her face, and she felt a wave of dizziness.
You need to think clearly, her brain warned. Find a way to escape.
But a sudden noise caught Breanne’s attention. Oisin would not let her raise her head, but she heard him grunt as a man dropped down from the trees and pulled Oisin from the saddle. She lost her balance and landed hard on the ground, the wind knocked out of her.
Though she could hardly breathe, her heart filled up with gratitude when she saw Alarr. His dark hair was pulled back with a cord, and his blue eyes burned with fury. He jerked Oisin to his feet and punched the man across the face, splitting his lip. He cursed at him in the Lochlannach tongue, and although Breanne could not understand a word of it, there was no denying Alarr’s fury.
She tried to stay out of the way, and her lungs burned as she tried to calm herself and catch her breath. But then she caught the gleam of iron and saw Rurik’s fallen blade at Oisin’s feet. Her enemy feigned surrender and took another blow to the jaw before he dropped facedown to the ground.
Alarr reached towards the man, and Breanne warned, ‘He has a blade.’
Just as she’d predicted, Oisin swung with the dagger in his grip. He barely missed Alarr, who stumbled backwards.
This time, she caught the sudden wariness from Alarr as he struggled with his balance. Although he had caught Oisin by surprise, their enemy took command of the fight. He charged forward and as Alarr tried to sidestep, his leg slipped, and he lost his footing again.
Oh, no.
Her courage faltered, replaced by sudden fear. She knew that Alarr had once been a powerful warrior. The heavy ridged muscles gave evidence to that. But for the first time, she saw him falter in battle. He had hidden his weaknesses so well, she’d never guessed how badly he’d been wounded until she’d seen the scars for herself.
‘My brother cannot fight any more,’ Rurik had said. And now she witnessed his struggle as he tried to defend himself. Oisin used the advantage and pinned him down. Fury blazed in Alarr’s eyes, and he used brute strength to shove the man away. He rolled over to avoid the dagger and then stood—only to have his knee give out again.
We’re going to die, Breanne thought. Unless I do something. She couldn’t just stand back and watch this—not when she could help Alarr.
Oisin started to charge again, but this time, Breanne had no intention of letting this fight continue. She picked up a large stone and threw it at him as a distraction. He spun, and that gave Alarr the chance to take him down. He dragged his enemy against a fallen log and struck the man’s face, beating him in a violent rage, as if to lash out at his own weakness. Breanne could hardly bring herself to watch, but before she could move, a second attacker came out of hiding. She called out a warning, and Alarr dodged the death blow, using the man’s momentum to push him into Oisin. The man could not stop his motion, and his dagger sank into Oisin’s shoulder. The Irishman roared with fury, and he tore the weapon free, slashing his own kinsman’s throat.
By the gods, she’d never seen such savagery. If Oisin would kill his own kinsman, what would he have done to Alarr or to her? Breanne scrambled backwards, and Alarr helped her on to the horse. He was about to go after Oisin, but the man dropped to his knees, his face grey from blood loss.
‘Leave him,’ Breanne said. ‘Rurik needs you now.’ She didn’t know what had happened, but they needed to find him.
Alarr claimed Oisin’s mount and swung up behind her. She guided the horse back to where she had left his brother. Along the way, she tried to calm the tremor that held her emotions captive.
‘Did you run away?’ he demanded. ‘Or did my brother take you?’ In his voice, she caught the tone of accusation.
‘I didn’t run,’ she insisted. ‘This was Rurik’s plan, not mine.’ She wanted to tell him more, but they were nearing the place where she had left his brother.
Rurik sat on the ground, holding his bleeding arm. Two men were dead beside him, and Breanne breathed a sigh of relief that he’d survived. Thank the gods.
Alarr dismounted and she followed his example, tearing off a length of her skirt to use as a bandage. She went to Rurik and bound his arm for him, asking, ‘Are you all right?’
He nodded. ‘It’s not deep.’ For a moment, he spoke to his brother in their native language, and she caught the concern in Alarr’s voice. He helped Rurik rise to his feet, and they argued for a moment.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘I’ve told Rurik to take the horse, and he’s being stubborn. He thinks I need to ride.’ The dark look of frustration revealed Alarr’s annoyance. His limp was more exaggerated than usual, and she knew that he was angry at himself for it. Rurik claimed that Feann had caused his limp...but it was more than that. The
