Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Elsie forced her feet to move. Each step back toward the table felt wrong, as though she were walking deeper into water when every instinct screamed to turn and run.
The tavern seemed louder now, harsher—the scrape of benches against stone, the bray of laughter too sharp at the edges, the crackle of the fire like something burning out of control.
She slid back onto the bench beside Halvard, her movements careful, deliberate, as if nothing at all had happened.
But inside, she was unraveling.
Then I fear ye may nae like the consequences.
Elsie pressed her lips together until they ached.
Halvard spoke to someone across the table, his voice low, calm, utterly unaware. The ease of him—so solid, so capable—made the secret burning in her chest feel heavier still. Telling him would be the sensible thing; the right thing.
But the man’s voice echoed again, smooth and merciless.
Alone.
Fear coiled tight around her ribs. If she disobeyed, if she brought Halvard into it, what would they do to Selene? How quickly could harm be done, how quietly? England was far away, and power moved unseen.
But for all she knew, maybe Selene wasn’t in England at all. Maybe she was already there, in Raasay, taken by an enemy hand.
Her hands trembled. She folded them in her lap, her fingers locking together hard enough to sting.
She felt eyes on her. Not the warm, curious looks of villagers celebrating but something sharper, measuring.
Elsie glanced up, her pulse quickening. Two men stood near the far wall, their conversation muted, their attention drifting too often in her direction.
Another sat alone near the door, his hood pulled low, his gaze flicking toward her and then away.
A chill crept down her spine. Halvard shifted beside her.
She felt it the moment his posture changed—the way a hunting hound stills when it scents blood. His voice lowered as he leaned toward her.
“We should go,” he said quietly, not looking at her. “Too many eyes. An’ nae all o’ them belong here.”
Her breath shuddered out of her, relief and fear tangling painfully together.
“Yes,” she said at once, the word escaping before she could soften it. “Yes, I’d like that.”
Halvard rose smoothly, his presence commanding enough that conversations nearby faltered. Sten noticed immediately, his gaze sweeping the room, his hand drifting closer to his weapon.
Halvard offered his hand to Elsie. She took it, gripping tighter than propriety allowed, drawing strength from the heat of his palm.
As they made for the door, Elsie felt the weight of those watching eyes follow them.
The tavern’s warmth seemed to retreat behind her, replaced by the cool, waiting evening.
The stairs to their room creaked under their steps.
When Halvard closed the door behind them, the sound echoed far too loudly in the small space.
Only then did Elsie sag slightly, her composure cracking.
She turned away from him, crossing to the window, staring out at the darkened town where shadows pooled thickly between buildings. Midnight was drawing closer, each passing second a tightening thread.
Her sister was in danger.
And Elsie stood trapped between the man who had vowed to protect her and the threat that could destroy the only family she had left. When they reached their room it felt suddenly too small; the night, too close.
Her thoughts spun in frantic circles, each one ending in the same place: Selene, alone, unprotected; at the mercy of men who spoke her name as though it were a coin already in their pocket.
She pressed her forehead to the stone, willing herself to think clearly. Behind her, Halvard moved. She felt him before she heard him—the subtle shift of weight, the quiet certainty of his presence. He did not speak at first; he waited. That, more than anything, undid her.
Elsie turned. He stood near the door, his arms crossed, his face shadowed by the single candle burning low on the table. His gaze was fixed on her with a patience that was uncharacteristic for him, as if he understood just how difficult this was for her.
Should she risk it all and tell Halvard everything? Should she risk her own life by meeting the man all alone, just as he had asked?
If there is anyone who knows what I should do about this, it’s Halvard. He’ll know what to tell me. Besides, if I don’t tell him about this, how will he ever forgive me?
“I need to tell you something,” Elsie said in the end, deciding it was the best course of action. Still, her voice shook despite her effort to steady it.
Halvard straightened immediately, approaching her. “What is it?”
She crossed the room slowly, each step an act of will. When she stopped before him, she lifted her chin and met his eyes—bright, searching, already braced for trouble.
“A man approached before, when you were watching,” she said. “Not a villager.”
The air between them changed. Halvard’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her, his fingers twitching by his hip as if he itched to reach for his dagger, the gesture unconscious and familiar. “I ken, I saw.”
“He knew my sister’s name,” she continued, the words scraping her throat raw. “He spoke it as if he knew where she was. As if he could reach her.”
Halvard’s jaw clenched, his expression turning dangerous in a way she had only seen a few times before. He looked over his shoulder at the door, and Elsie feared he would march right back to the tavern to search for the man, to demand answers—to get them out of him in whatever way was necessary.
“He told me to meet him,” she said. “At midnight, behind the tavern. Alone.”
Silence fell heavy and absolute between them. For a long moment, Halvard did not speak. When he did, his voice was low and controlled, every word edged with iron.
“Ye were never goin’ there alone.”
“I know,” she said quickly. Halvard would have followed her, she figured.
Now that she had calmed down just enough to think reasonably, she realized there had never been a chance for her to leave their room unnoticed.
Halvard would have kept an eye on her, and whatever excuse she managed to come up with, it would have been too feeble to keep his attention away from her.
“But I needed you to understand why I hesitated, why I didn’t tell you at once.
He made it very clear. If I disobey, Selene pays for it. ”
Halvard’s eyes softened then, just slightly, the fury giving way to something deeper, something that made her breath catch.
“Ye told me anyway,” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “Because I trust you. And because I can’t do this without you.”
It was the truth, plain and simple; Elsie couldn’t do this on her own. She needed Halvard by her side. She needed his solid presence, his reassurance, and more than likely, she needed his sword. He would protect her, she knew, no matter what.
For the first time since she had known him, Halvard looked moved. He was not shaken, but something warm and solemn passed across his face, as though a door inside him had quietly closed behind her, sealing her safely within.
“Ye did right,” he said. He reached for her, resting his hands on her shoulders, solid and steady. “Ye could have kept this from me. But ye didnae.”
Elsie’s eyes burned with unshed tears. “I was afraid you’d forbid it.”
“I will,” he said without apology. “Ye are nae meetin’ him alone.”
“I know,” she said again. Then, firmer, “But you cannot go in my place. He will not speak to you… only to me. He made that clear.”
Halvard’s brow furrowed. “Then I will stand with ye.”
“No,” Elsie said, shaking her head. “He’ll vanish the moment he sees you. Or worse, he’ll act.” She drew a slow breath, steadying herself. “We do this together. But he must believe I am alone.”
Understanding dawned slowly in Halvard’s eyes—and with it, resistance. Elsie could see it—the way he warred with himself, a part of him considering the plan reasonable and perhaps even their only option, and another part of him desperate to keep her safe.
“Ye’ll be watched,” he said in the end. “Every step.”
“Yes.”
“An’ if he so much as breathes wrong—”
“You’ll be there,” she finished. “Close enough to strike. But far enough that he believes he has me.”
The candle flickered, throwing their shadows long across the wall.
Outside, the wind whispered through the village like a warning.
Halvard looked away for a moment, his hands tightening on her shoulders.
When he looked back, the decision was written plainly across his face—and the reluctance under it cut deeper than any refusal.
“I dinnae like this,” he said.
“I know.”
“But I trust ye,” he added. “An’ that means I must trust yer courage as well as me own strength.”
Elsie swallowed hard, trying to choke down the swell of emotion that threatened to rise up her throat. “Thank you.”
Halvard leaned forward then, resting his forehead briefly against hers—a gesture so intimate it stole her breath.
“We will be watchin’,” he assured her. “Sten, the men, me. Ye will never be truly alone.”
Elsie’s eyes closed for a heartbeat, drawing comfort from the promise. Midnight was almost upon them, and whatever waited in the dark behind the tavern would not find her undefended.
The night felt wrong, the air around them too crisp, too still, too quiet.
Halvard felt it the moment they stepped into the narrow lane behind the tavern, where the sea’s breath curled in cold and damp against the stone.
Midnight had stripped the village of its warmth; the laughter was gone, the shutters were drawn tight; only the distant creak of a sign and the low surge of waves carried through the dark.
He hated this plan.
He hated every heartbeat that carried Elsie farther from his reach.
She walked ahead of them, her cloak drawn close, her steps measured and careful. To any watching eye, she was alone. To Halvard, she was a thread stretched too thin, pulling him taut with every step she took.