Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
The wind bit through wool and leather, sharp as a blade against Halvard’s cheek, but he barely felt it. His horse thundered over the sodden earth, its hooves striking hard enough to rattle the bones of the land itself, yet still he urged the beast faster.
Somethin’ is wrong.
He had felt it the moment they had ridden from the borders—a hollow, gnawing scrape along his ribs, as though fate itself dragged claws across him. It had all been too clean, too convenient; a false alarm meant to pull him away from Brochel.
Away from Elsie.
The dread tightened until it nearly strangled him.
Behind him, Sten swore loudly as he struggled to keep pace. “Halvard! Slow the hell down! Ye are ridin’ like the devil’s gnawin’ at yer heels!”
“He is,” Halvard growled over his shoulder. “An’ if ye’ve any sense, ye’ll keep yer pace an’ let me ride alone.”
Sten barked a laugh, short, winded, irritated. “Nay. If ye run headfirst intae an ambush again, I’ll never forgive meself. Nor will she.”
A muscle jumped in Halvard’s jaw. Elsie, all gentle heart and sharp tongue, wouldn’t forgive Sten either for letting Halvard get himself into trouble. But it was her he thought of as he rode; it was her he was rushing to find, worried that something far more sinister was at play.
The silence in the forest felt wrong—too heavy, too expectant, and he pushed his horse harder, to its limits.
Branches whipped against his shoulders as he plunged through the tree line, the path narrowing into a dense tangle that led toward the western slope near the lake. He was near the castle now, close enough to see it loom over the land like an ancient monument, growing from the very earth itself.
Then a scream tore through the trees; a scream he recognized in an instant, even from afar. He knew that voice, and he would have known it anywhere, even with his eyes closed.
Halvard’s blood turned to ice. “Elsie!”
He didn’t remember leaping from the saddle, but suddenly his boots slammed the ground, and he was sprinting, his sword in hand before thought caught up with movement.
Behind him, Sten cursed loudly, the unmistakable sound of his own boots hitting the ground accompanying his voice as he called to Halvard in vain.
He wouldn’t stop—not until he reached her.
Another shout, followed by a deep bellow and a muffled curse. Then, that voice again, the one he knew belonged to Elsie.
“Let me go!”
He burst into the clearing just as one man grabbed Elsie by the waist, hauling her toward the trees. Another was quick on his heels, following and trying to help as Elsie thrashed and twisted in the man’s grip in a desperate attempt to free herself.
Two more men rounded on Halvard, steel drawn, but Halvard didn’t slow.
The first attacker lunged. He was a big man, draped in a dark cloak that billowed around him as he moved—and he moved fast. Before Halvard knew it, their blades met with a clang, the force of the clash reverberating up his arm.
His bones rattled with it, but he was swift to parry the next blow and the one after that, keeping the man back, even as his attacks were relentless.
When he attacked for the third time, Halvard met him with a brutal strike to the chest, cutting him open from shoulder to rib.
Then, he pivoted to catch the second man’s blade on his own, stopping the attack in its tracks.
The man snarled, pushing forward with desperate strength, but Halvard slammed his shoulder into him, knocking him off-balance before driving his sword through the man’s ribs.
Elsie screamed again, her terror echoing off the tree bark around them. The third man was dragging her, his arms locked around her, her legs kicking wildly. She bit his hand, and he cursed, raising a fist to strike her.
Halvard’s voice thundered through the clearing, primal and savage. “Touch her an’ ye’ll nae live long enough tae regret it.”
The man froze—not for long, but just long enough for Halvard to reach him.
Without hesitation, he ripped Elsie free from his grip, swiftly pulling her behind him. The man charged at them both, his sword raised high and ready to attack, but Halvard pushed him back, desperate to keep Elsie safe.
When the man charged him once more, Halvard side-stepped him, pulling Elsie along behind him, and then with a swing of his sword, he delivered his own attack—only for the man to parry it. But Halvard gave him no time to counterattack; he headbutted the man so hard the crunch echoed.
And the man collapsed in a heap.
His breathing harsh, his chest heaving, Halvard scanned the tree line, just as Sten barreled into the clearing.
“Keep one alive!” Halvard barked.
Sten lunged at the last conscious attacker, the one trying to crawl away, and slammed him into the ground. Rope snapped tight around the man’s wrists within seconds.
And suddenly, the forest was quiet again, except for Elsie’s breathing—rapid, trembling, too pale to bear.
Halvard turned. His hands shook as he looked at her, wide-eyed and frightened, her face pallid, her lip trembling as she tried—and failed—to speak.
He told himself it was the adrenaline, the rage. But the truth was that he had never been this afraid in all his years of battle.
“Elsie…” His voice came out rougher than stone. He closed the distance and cupped her face, his hands hovering over her as he checked for injuries. “Tell me what happened.”
“I… I couldn’t ignore the child,” she said. “A little boy, alone on the path. He was crying, saying his mother was injured.” Her voice broke. “I only meant to help them but … but those men grabbed me.”
O’ course. O’ course it was her heart that had put her in danger.
Halvard wanted to be furious, to roar at her, to shake sense into her. Instead, he exhaled shakily and rested his forehead against hers. She smelled like cold air and fear, and something inside him snapped and softened in the same breath.
“Ye shouldnae have gone alone,” he said harshly. “Christ, Elsie.”
“I know.” Her fingers fisted in his tunic, holding onto him as if he was an anchor. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“I nearly lost ye.”
The words slipped out, raw and unfiltered. The thought struck him like a fist. He didn’t know what he would do if anything happened to her, if he lost her. How could he ever live with himself? How could he ever live with the knowledge that he had failed her, that he hadn’t been there to save her?
Danger seemed to loom everywhere around them. No matter where Halvard looked, he found another trap, another danger lurking in the shadows.
Something thick and magnetic pulled them together and the air thickened between them. Her gaze dropped to his mouth as Halvard’s grip slid under her jaw, tilting her face up.
The kiss struck like a spark to tinder.
Halvard devoured her, hungry and furious.
His relief tasted like desperation. Elsie melted into him, her hands sliding up his shoulders, clutching him as though anchoring herself.
His world narrowed to the press of her lips, the warmth of her breath, the tremble in her body that told him how close she had come to being taken from him.
It was only Sten’s exaggerated throat-clearing that snapped the moment.
Halvard broke the kiss slowly, reluctantly, resting his thumb against Elsie’s cheek.
“The boy,” she said, instantly distraught again. “He ran when they grabbed me. Halvard, he’s alone out there—”
“The boy?” Halvard asked with a frown. “The same one who lured ye intae this trap?”
“Yes,” said Elsie, pulling back from him. “Yes, the very same. He’s only a child, Halvard. He didn’t know what he was doing. He must be poor, maybe even starving. If they promised him coin, then of course he took the chance. Can you blame him?”
Halvard could, but not Elsie. Her heart was too big, and Halvard knew she would never forgive him if he didn’t search for the boy.
“I’ll send riders,” he promised, his voice iron and certainty. “An’ I’ll scour every inch of these woods if I must. Dinnae fash. The lad willnae be left tae fend fer himself.”
Her eyes filled with tears and gratitude. Halvard couldn’t look at them for long without losing himself.
“Come,” he said gently, wrapping an arm around her waist. “We’re goin’ back tae the castle. Ye’re shiverin’.”
“I… I’m all right,” she insisted, though she leaned into him.
“Nay,” he said, guiding her toward the horses, “but ye’re alive. And that’s enough.”
Sten dragged the bound man behind them. He had come to by then, stumbling behind Sten as the man pulled him along, unsteady on his knees and bloody.
“He’ll talk. I’ll make sure o’ it.”
Halvard gave him a grateful nod, letting Sten ride along first with the prisoner. For a few short moments, he stayed there with Elsie, pulling her back in his arms just to reassure himself she was still there; just to remember she wasn’t gone.
“Nay one,” he vowed quietly, “will take ye from me. Nae while I’ve breath in me body.”
Her gaze flicked up to him, startled, searching, but he couldn’t pull the words back.
And he didn’t want to.
The castle gates thundered shut behind them, the clang of iron echoing like a warning through Halvard’s skull. The moment Elsie’s feet touched the stones of the courtyard, his chest eased—barely—but the simmering panic beneath his ribs did not settle; it only sharpened.
Every torch along the walls cast long, wavering shadows over Elsie’s torn skirts and scraped hands, over the faint bruise blossoming on her wrist where that bastard had grabbed her.
Over the tremble she tried so hard to hide.
Halvard wanted to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way, but he clenched his jaw instead. If he touched her now, he wouldn’t let go.
“Halvard,” she said, glancing toward the side corridor, “We should check for the boy and make sure he was brought back—”
“Sten will see tae it,” he cut in, low and tight. “Yer safety comes first.”
Elsie frowned, stubborn as always. “The boy is just as—”
“Elsie.”
One word, hard as a slammed door.