Breanne thought it was a risk, but if Treasa was only bringing small gifts and then leaving, perhaps it was not so dangerous. ‘I will think about it.’
‘Good.’ Her mother held out her hand. ‘Why don’t you rest for a while? You must be weary from the journey, and there’s time enough to talk about it in the morning.’ She led her to a pile of sleeping furs near the heated stones that provided warmth within the hut. Breanne curled up and closed her eyes. But it did nothing to diminish the longing within her. The familiar scent of wood and straw conjured up the memories of lying in Alarr’s arms.
Had he fought with Feann this night? Was he alive? Silently, her tears fell, dampening her cheeks. Why couldn’t he give up his plans to fight her foster father? It tore her apart to imagine either one of them hurt.
She wanted to believe that he had spared her father’s life, but she didn’t know what he had done. Silently, she wept, wishing she could push aside the raw feelings.
She heard her mother get up and walk outside. Dimly, she heard Treasa speaking to someone in a low voice before she returned inside.
‘I am sending one of my men ahead to Clonagh at dawn, so that our kinsmen will know of our arrival, Breanne,’ she whispered. ‘They will make a place for us to sleep where no one will know we are there.’
Breanne didn’t answer, feigning sleep. Perhaps it was best to return to Clonagh and see for herself what had happened there. She was not about to let Feann arrange a marriage for her—that is, if he had survived the fight with Alarr. Her mood turned bleak as she wondered what had happened to them.
She loved both men, and neither would stand down. And choosing one meant abandoning the other. Because of it, she would have to give up both. It broke her heart, being caught in the middle.
Breanne shifted her thoughts back to Clonagh, and she tried to imagine making a home there. It wasn’t the life she had envisioned, but it was time to make her own choices.
Even if that meant being alone.
Alarr gasped as the blade cut into his shoulder, but he managed to shield himself before Feann could strike again.
He pushed back against the king’s blows, rising to his feet. Blood dripped down his arm, but he didn’t care. Instead, he poured himself into the fight. His mind blurred, and he used his strength to strike his hardest blows. It was time to end this.
He released a battle cry, using all his strength to catch his enemy off guard. But Feann was a skilled warrior, despite his age. He met Alarr’s blows with his own force. They circled one another, and despite it all, there was no doubting that they were equally matched.
Feann lunged, striking a low blow. But as Alarr sidestepped the attack, he brought his blade to the king’s throat.
Then, beneath his own neck, he felt the cold kiss of metal. Across from him, he saw his brother staring. Rurik shook his head slowly, as if in warning.
‘Enough,’ Feann said. ‘This fight is over.’ To one of his men, he ordered, ‘Bring Breanne to me.’
‘She’s gone,’ Alarr admitted. ‘She left this morn to go back to her mother.’
At that, Feann pressed the blade against Alarr’s throat until blood welled. Alarr answered with his own pressure, never taking the blade from the king’s neck.
‘You let her go back to Treasa?’ Feann said with incredulity. ‘Why would you send her there?’ He drew his blade back, and Alarr did the same. Feann cursed and swung his sword again. ‘She is a conniving viper who will only betray her.’
Alarr didn’t know what the king meant by that. Treasa had appeared harmless, hardly any threat at all. But now, the king’s emotions caused him to fight recklessly, and Alarr seized the advantage. He allowed Feann to rail with his anger, waiting until the right moment to strike. Iron struck iron, and he kept his patience, until the moment the king crossed his sword, leaning in.
At that, Alarr reached for Feann’s wrist and twisted the sword away, disarming him. With both weapons in his hands, he drew the blades on either side of the king’s neck. It would take only a single blow to behead him.
‘Kneel,’ he ordered.
The king’s men started to surround Alarr, but Feann commanded, ‘Stand down. This is between us.’
The soldiers took a step back, though they appeared ready to fight. Then Feann met Alarr’s gaze. ‘Swear to me you will go after Breanne. Her mother is not to be trusted.’
He ignored the man’s warning and pressed the blades into his neck. ‘I said, “Kneel”.’
‘Swear it first. You must find her and protect her from Treasa.’ The king’s eyes met his, and he said, ‘Breanne is all that matters. You know this.’
There was true fear in Feann’s expression, but it was for his foster daughter, not himself. Alarr didn’t understand why the man had abandoned her, if he truly wanted her safe. Something didn’t ring true. ‘If you care more for her than your own life, why did you not save her when she needed you?’
‘Because I thought Treasa had taken her!’ the king retorted. ‘After I heard she had escaped from Dún Bolg, I searched for them, only to discover that I was wrong.’ He took a breath and knelt. ‘Seize your vengeance and end my life, if that is what you want. I thought
