Breanne Ó Callahan was a beautiful woman with hair the colour of a sunset—gleaming red and gold in the light. Her green eyes reminded him of the hills in Maerr, and there was no doubting her courage. She had a strong will, and he admired her refusal to weep or yield. There were bruises on her face, neck, and arms, as well as the raw flesh at her wrists and ankles, but she had not complained of pain even once.
They had sailed through the afternoon and night, using the stars to mark their path. Rurik slept for a time, and Alarr caught an hour of rest before dawn broke across the sky, revealing the southern coast of Éireann. They would reach the Hook Peninsula soon, and Alarr intended to shelter there and rest for a few days. His father had spoken of Styr Hardrata and his wife Caragh, who had formed their own settlement near the coast. The thought of a true bed with furs and a fire were a welcome respite from the miserable rain that had not once relented. Even in morning, the clouded sky offered very little light.
‘What will you do with her?’ Rurik asked quietly.
‘She will give us the information we seek about Feann, and we will use her to get inside the gates of Killcobar. After that, I care not.’
Rurik adjusted one of the sails, and in the distance, they could see the flare of torches from the harbour. ‘Do not get too close to her, Alarr. Question Breanne if you must, but do not soften.’
He understood his brother’s warning. When it came to women, he found it difficult to remain harsh. His mother had taught him to be kind to maidens, and he could not cast off his upbringing so easily. And there was no doubting that Breanne was a temptation.
A darker voice within him whispered that he could claim her as his concubine. It would be another act of retribution against King Feann to dishonour his foster daughter in such a way. He imagined this beautiful woman curled up against him, her bare skin warming his. Her reddish-gold hair was tangled against her face as she slept, and he wondered what it would be like to have that silken length against him.
‘She will tell us everything,’ he said. ‘But only if we let her believe that we mean her no harm. We will say that we are taking her home in the hopes of a ransom.’
‘You’re going to betray her,’ Rurik said quietly.
It was unavoidable, and Alarr refused to feel any guilt. He had journeyed across the sea for many days, keeping his rage at the forefront of his mind. ‘I will do what I must. The woman should believe that we are helping her. Afterwards, I will kill Feann for what he did to our father and me.’
Alarr adjusted the sails as they neared land, and he centred his mind upon the settlement ahead. Absently, he rubbed at the scars on his calves. It was nothing short of a miracle that he’d managed to walk again. The healer had treated his wounds, wrapping them tightly so the muscles could heal. For the next year, he had struggled with every step, and even now, he had a limp. No one spoke of his fighting skills any more. They knew, as he did, that his days of being a warrior were over. He could barely keep his balance, much less defeat an enemy. It ground at his pride, a festering resentment that would never fade.
The dark memory of his wedding day lingered within him, an ever-constant reminder of what he’d lost. Alarr wanted to avenge his family’s honour, and the surest way to reach Feann was through his foster daughter. He would revel in the moment when he could avenge his family, watching the life fade from Feann’s eyes. And after he’d killed his enemy, the ghosts of his past would be silenced at last. If he lost his own life, he cared not. He was no longer the warrior he had once been, and he would rather die than be less of a man. All that mattered now was vengeance.
When they drew closer to the pier, Alarr took a length of rope. Breanne stirred from sleep the moment he touched her. ‘Where are we?’ she asked.
He didn’t answer but bound her hands tightly in front of her. Annoyance flared in her eyes, but he would not risk losing such a valuable prisoner.
‘Of course, you’re not going to answer,’ she responded. ‘You probably don’t understand a word I’m saying.’
Alarr helped Rurik tie off the longboat, and when Breanne tried to climb into the water, he jerked the rope binding her hands and pulled her back. She cursed at him, but he ignored her.
Once the longboat was secure, he stepped into the hip-deep water and reached for his captive. She fought him, but he held her tightly and strode through the waves until they reached the shore. The settlement lay a short distance from the water’s edge, closer to the river. Alarr lowered her to the sand but kept her rope in his hands, forcing her to walk alongside him.
‘If you think I am going to remain your slave, you are mistaken,’ Breanne muttered. ‘The moment you try to sleep, I will disappear. And may the gods curse you if you dare to lay a hand on me. I will cut it off first.’
She continued to voice her frustration, cursing them with every step. They walked from the water’s edge, up the sandy hillside, to the open meadows. A few sheep grazed nearby, and they continued their path towards the fortress in the distance. Only when they had reached the gates did she stop her endless words. The settlement was newly built, and even beyond the walls, Alarr could see that construction of several longhouses had recently begun.
Four warriors guarded the gates with long spears, and there was no sense
