She was grateful, for he seemed to understand that her feelings were hanging by a single thread. The tears and anger were so tightly intertwined, she didn’t know if she wanted to weep or rage at the world.
‘If you have need of protection,’ one of the guards offered, ‘we can join you.’
‘No.’ Alarr swung up behind her and said, ‘I can defend Breanne on my own. We won’t go far.’
With that, he nudged the animal forward and outside the gates. She took comfort from his arms around her and let the tears fall freely. No one would see them, and no one would judge her for them. But it hurt so deeply to recognise that Feann had never loved her as a daughter.
Alarr took the horse into a hard gallop, and the wind caused her hair to stream behind her. They rode for several minutes, until he found a small outcropping of limestone. Then he slowed the mare’s pace to a stop and dismounted, helping her down.
Breanne dried her tears, grateful to be away from Feann and the others. Her heart ached with the sadness of loss. And through it all, Alarr had been steadfast.
‘You kept your word,’ she said at last. ‘Though I know you wanted to kill him.’
His face tensed. ‘I did.’ Then he paused and added, ‘I still do.’
Breanne couldn’t stop herself from pacing from one stone to another. Restlessness pulsed in her veins. She wanted to rage at Feann and at herself for believing that he had ever cared about her. To his credit, Alarr said nothing but let her be.
At last, she stopped to face him. ‘I know I promised you justice. But I do not know what I can do now.’ The thought of Feann made her stomach clench. She had defended him for so long, but he had only wanted to use her.
‘Do you still want him to live?’ Alarr asked.
Breanne closed her eyes, pushing back the pain. Even though she despised the king right now, it wasn’t possible to push away the years of memories. He had cared for her, and when she was a little girl, there were nights when he had comforted her after bad dreams. In spite of everything, she didn’t want him to die.
‘Yes, he should live,’ she answered. ‘But I don’t want to stand by and let him get away with what he did to your family. It isn’t right.’ Her cheeks were still wet from her tears, but she needed his arms around her. She went to Alarr and pressed both hands against his chest. His arms came around her, and she drew comfort from his embrace.
‘Then we must take away something that has value to him. Does Feann have sons?’
‘He does, but they are still being fostered elsewhere. They are not yet of age.’ She drew back and said, ‘I know what you are thinking, but I don’t want to harm my foster brothers. I would rather take away his power.’ She thought a moment, an idea starting to form in her mind. There was nothing that would irritate Feann more than to have a Lochlannach claim the Irish throne he was protecting.
‘We should go to Clonagh together,’ she suggested. ‘And...if we married, you could take possession of the land as my husband.’ It was a risk to mention it to him, for she had already agreed to travel to his homeland. Even more, she did not know if he wanted her to become his bride after all that had happened.
Alarr was already shaking his head. ‘I cannot stay here in Éireann. I belong in Maerr. You know this.’ He traced the edge of her jaw, and her skin tightened at his touch.
She covered his hand with her own and stared back. Did he feel the same as she did, this sense of longing? Or was it only her loneliness that made her crave a deeper connection with Alarr? She closed her eyes, forcing her attention back to the problem at hand.
‘I wanted Feann to grant you compensation for your losses. But silver is not enough to bring your loved ones back, is it?’
He shook his head. His expression was stoic, devoid of emotion. She wanted to reassure him, to somehow make him see that she would find a way to grant him justice.
‘Feann will face the consequences for his choices,’ Alarr said. ‘I promise you that.’ The coldness in his voice unnerved her. ‘And then I will find the man who murdered Sigurd and avenge my father’s death.’
Breanne studied him closely, and then wondered aloud, ‘Why do you think it was a man?’
Alarr paused, wondering what she meant by that. ‘There were no female fighters at that battle, Breanne.’
‘A woman does not need to swing a sword to be responsible for a man’s death.’ She squeezed his hands and prompted, ‘What of your mother? I imagine that she was not pleased about Sigurd’s infidelity. Or his bastard sons.’
Alarr had considered this, for Hilda’s jealousy and resentment of Saorla had been no secret. But would she truly go that far? ‘I don’t know.’ But he could not deny the possibility.
A coldness settled inside him at the thought. His mother had sent Brandt away on the morning of his wedding, claiming that there was a raid. Was that true? Or had she known something about the impending attack? She might have been trying to protect her eldest son.
Hilda had forbidden them to carry weapons that day, which had left them unarmed in the presence of enemies. Alarr had been fortunate to have two ceremonial swords, but others had no means of defending themselves. He didn’t want to imagine that his mother had enacted such a brutal attack...but she had played a role in it, whether or not she had intended to do so.
‘What do you think we should do now?’
Alarr hesitated, considering it. Breanne had given him the chance
