She believed he would keep his word. ‘I hope you learn the truth. Send word to me after Feann returns to Killcobar.’
‘I will.’
Alarr swung up behind her and turned the animal westwards. Breanne leaned back against him as they rode. She said nothing, but during the ride, she was conscious of every line of his body. He was warm, his arms sheltering her from the cold. Her body ached from exhaustion, and in time, the swaying of the horse caused her to grow weary. Alarr seemed to sense her weakness, and he murmured against her ear. ‘Sleep, if you wish. I won’t let you fall.’
She closed her eyes, grateful for his presence. ‘Thank you.’
As she succumbed to her exhaustion, she was confused by the feelings of security. This man had been her captor, and now they were travelling together as equals. No longer did he seem like an enemy—instead, she grew aware that he had protected her at every moment.
His very presence made her want to lower her defences—just for a moment.
Alarr rested his cheek against her hair, and she indulged in the feeling of comfort, no matter that it was wrong. She told herself that it wasn’t real, even as her wayward heart softened to his touch.
For the next few hours, they rode through the night along the edge of a winding stream, until the landscape shifted into rolling hills. Breanne slept against him, until at last, he came to a stop. The pale grey light of dawn creased the horizon, and she realised that they were in a part of Éireann she had never seen before. The green hills rose into a wooded area, but a road cut through the trees. In the distance, she saw mountains rising up, revealing a cashel atop the hillside.
‘Where are we?’ she asked.
‘A few miles outside of Dún Bolg,’ he answered. ‘My father spoke of it during his travels, but I’ve never been there before.’ He guided the horse up the hillside, and she then saw rock formations that provided natural shelter from the elements. ‘We’ll stop and sleep a while before we find your mother.’ He didn’t speak of Feann, though they both knew there was a chance that her foster father was still here.
Alarr chose a small indentation in the rock, not quite a cave, but surrounded on all sides. He dismounted and helped her down. Breanne started to gather supplies for a fire while he tended the horse and led it to drink at a mountain stream trickling down the hillside.
He chose a grassy place to tether the animal loosely, so the horse could graze. When he returned to their shelter, he nodded in approval at the kindling and wood she’d gathered. Alarr tossed her a flint, and she used her knife to strike a spark. She fed the spark dry grasses, blowing gently, before she added dry twigs and sticks. Eventually, she added wood, and she warmed herself at the flames.
She hardly knew what to think of anything right now. Alarr had escorted her here, but she knew better than to imagine that it was for her sake. He wanted to confront Feann, whereas she wanted to see the mother she had never known. What could she even say to Treasa? Breanne had not seen her since she was two years old. The woman was naught but a stranger. Nerves gathered within her at the thought of seeing her mother.
Alarr spread out a sleeping fur on the ground and stretched out beside the fire. She knew he was tired from all the travelling, but he had not wanted to stop until now. Likely, he didn’t want any of the guards at Dún Bolg to be aware of their arrival. It was too easy for them to be seen in an open clearing.
She wondered if she should remain on the other side of the fire, apart from him. Ever since she had left, there had been an unspoken tension between them. There was no question that he desired her...and yet, she knew the danger of drawing too close. Alarr allured her, and she could not deny that she wanted him too. If she lay beside him, all her defences would crumble. And then he would leave her. Whether he returned to Maerr or whether he died fighting Feann, the result was the same. It was not wise to let herself care about this man.
‘There’s no need to be afraid of me, Breanne,’ he said. Alarr leaned back on the fur and regarded her. ‘I won’t harm you.’
‘I remember too well what happened the last time I was close to you,’ she admitted. She didn’t trust herself around him.
‘I won’t touch you unless you ask.’ His voice was deep and resonant, as if he wouldn’t mind it at all.
She drew close to the fire, holding out her hands. It was still cool in the morning, but she knew better than to get too close. For a moment, she gathered her thoughts, wondering if there was any means of dissuading him from his chosen path. She had asked him to give up his plans of vengeance before, and he had refused.
‘Alarr,’ she began, choosing her words with care, ‘is there anything that would satisfy your need for vengeance that would allow my foster father to live?’
He leaned back against the furs, staring at the sky. ‘No.’
She had expected this, but she was prepared to argue with him. ‘Killing Feann won’t bring your father back.’
He rolled to his side to face her. ‘This isn’t only about Sigurd. It’s about me.’
Breanne came to kneel beside him. ‘What is it?’
He sat up then and touched his legs. ‘Feann took away more than my father’s life. He took away the man I used to be.’
She sobered, but she wanted him to understand that he was not broken in her eyes. ‘That’s not true. Because of your actions, you protected me. Even when
