Chapter 34
The flames roared to life faster than Ada had expected, climbing up the wagon with hungry speed. She stumbled backward, her heart hammering, as men began shouting all around her.
"Fire! Get water!"
"The supplies…"
"Someone put it out before it spreads!"
Chaos erupted. Men scrambled in every direction, some running toward the flames with buckets, others rushing to save what they could from the burning wagon. The smoke thickened, acrid and choking, making Ada's eyes water.
She backed away further, toward the edge of camp where the trees began. This was it. The signal. Magnus had to have seen it. He had to be coming.
Please be coming.
Then she heard it, a roar that cut through the chaos like thunder. War cries from the ridge above, followed by the pounding of hooves and boots.
Ada's chest loosened with relief even as fear spiked through her. They were there. Magnus was there.
Warriors poured down from the ridge, their weapons gleaming in the firelight. Ada caught glimpses through the smoke—Harald's distinctive armor, Ragnar's massive form, Erik moving with lethal grace. And there, leading the charge, Magnus on his stallion, his sword already drawn and stained red.
Steel clashed against steel. Men shouted orders, curses, prayers. Conall's soldiers scrambled for weapons, tried to form some semblance of defense, but they were caught completely off guard. The surprise was total.
Ada pressed herself against a tree, staying out of the way as the battle raged around her. She searched desperately through the smoke and chaos for Magnus, needing to see him, to know he was safe.
A soldier stumbled past her, clutching a wound in his side. Another went down screaming as one of Harald's men struck him from behind. The smell of blood mixed with smoke, making her stomach turn.
Then rough hands seized her arm, yanked her away from the tree.
Ada gasped, tried to pull free, but the grip was iron. She was spun around to face—
Her father.
Conall's face was twisted with fury, his eyes blazing with a rage she'd never seen before. His fingers dug into her arm hard enough to bruise, hard enough to make her cry out.
"Ye," he snarled. "Ye did this. Ye betrayed us."
"Faither—" Ada tried to pull away but he dragged her forward, into the center of the camp where the fighting was thickest.
"Ye're nay daughter of mine!" His voice rose to a shout that cut through the battle noise. "Ye're a curse! A poison tae every man foolish enough tae trust ye!"
Men turned to look, both friend and foe pausing at the spectacle. Ada saw Magnus in the distance, fighting three men at once, too far to reach her.
"I gave ye life!" Conall shook her hard enough to make her teeth rattle. "Raised ye. Clothed ye. Fed ye. And this is how ye repay me? By sidin’ with that Norse savage? By betraying yer own blood?"
"Ye were goin' tae kill Magnus—" Ada's voice came out strangled. "Ye tried tae use me as a weapon against him."
"Because that's what daughters are fer!" Conall's face was purple now, spittle flying from his lips. "Tae serve their faithers! Tae dae as they're told! But ye—ye've always been trouble. Always thought ye were better than what ye were meant fer."
He released her arm only to grab her hair, yanking her head back. Ada gasped in pain, her hands coming up instinctively to try and loosen his grip.
"I should have dealt with ye years ago," Conall said, his voice dropping to something quieter but infinitely more dangerous. "Should have broken ye properly instead of indulgin' yer foolishness. Should have married ye off tae the first man who'd take ye and been done with it."
"Then why didnae ye?" Ada managed to gasp out. "Why keep me around at all if I was such a burden?"
"Because I thought ye might be useful eventually. Thought maybe ye'd develop some sense." His laugh was bitter. "But I was wrong. Ye're useless. Worse than useless. Ye're a liability. And the only way tae fix a liability—"
His hand went to his sword.
Ada's blood turned to ice as she watched him draw the blade. The steel caught the firelight, gleaming red and orange as he raised it.
This couldn't be happening. Her father, her own father, was actually going to kill her.
"Faither, please—" Her voice came out small. Broken. "I'm yer daughter. Yer only daughter."
"Ye stopped bein' me daughter the moment ye chose him over me." Conall's eyes were cold now. Empty. "And I'll nae have a traitor in me family. Better ye die here than live tae shame the MacTavish name further."
The sword rose higher. Ada stared up at it, frozen not from fear of death, though terror certainly flooded her veins, but from sheer disbelief.
He was really going to do it.
Her father, the man who'd given her life, was going to end it right there in front of everyone.
Some distant part of her mind noted how fitting it was. How her entire life had been leading to that moment. All the years of trying to earn his love, his approval, his attention—and this was what it came to.
His sword raised above her head, ready to strike her down like she was nothing more than an animal to be slaughtered.
Time seemed to slow. Ada saw the muscles in her father's arm tense, saw the blade begin its descent. Saw her death coming and couldn't seem to make herself move.
Then a roar—Magnus's voice, raw and desperate—cut through everything.
"ADA!"
A figure crashed into Conall from the side, steel ringing as blade met blade. Her father stumbled, his strike deflected, and suddenly Ada was free.
She fell backward, landed hard on the ground. Looked up to see Torvald standing between her and her father, his sword steady.
"Get up," Torvald said without taking his eyes off Conall. "Get up and run, lass."
But Ada couldn't move. Could only watch as Magnus appeared through the smoke, vaulting from his horse before it had fully stopped. He landed in a roll, came up with his sword ready, his face a mask of cold fury.
"Get away from her," Magnus said, and his voice was deadly calm.
Ada had never been so grateful to see anyone in her entire life.
Conall turned, his face contorting further with rage. "Ye. This is yer fault. Ye turned her against me. Poisoned her mind with yer Norse filth."
"I did naethin'." Magnus moved forward slowly, deliberately, positioning himself between Conall and where Ada still lay. "Ye did this yerself. Treated yer own daughter like property. Like a tool tae be used and discarded. She was never the problem, MacTavish. Ye were."
"She's mine!" Conall's voice rose to a shout. "Mine tae dae with as I please! I gave her life."
"And she gave ye loyalty. Fer years. Despite yer cruelty. Despite everythin'." Magnus's grip tightened visibly on his sword. "But ye threw that away. Sold her tae save yer own ambitions. And now ye want tae kill her because she finally chose herself over ye?"
"She chose ye." Conall spat the word like a curse. "A murderer. A savage. She betrayed her own blood fer..."
"Fer a man who actually values her." Magnus cut him off. "Fer a man who sees her as more than just a means tae an end. And that's what really eats at ye, isnae it? That she found someone who treats her better than her own faither ever did."
Ada watched through tears as the two men faced each other. Her father, who'd never loved her. And Magnus, who'd given her everything her father never had—respect, protection, genuine care.
Conall lunged forward, his blade aimed at Magnus's throat.
Magnus was ready. He deflected the strike easily, his own sword moving up in a counter that forced Conall back. They began to circle each other, weapons raised.
"She was never yers," Magnus said, his voice low and dangerous. "From the moment ye treated her like property instead of a person, ye lost any claim tae her. And when ye tried tae use her against me, when ye endangered her life fer yer own gain, ye sealed yer fate."
"Big words from a man everyone thinks is a wife-killer." Conall's smile was vicious. "How long before ye dae tae her what ye did tae the first one? How long before—"
Magnus struck.
Ada gasped as his sword became a blur of motion, striking so fast and hard that Conall barely had time to defend. They fought through the smoke and flames, blades clashing with sharp rings that made Ada's ears hurt.
Her father was good, better than she'd expected. But Magnus was better. And there was something in the way he fought now, a focused fury that made every strike count, every movement deliberate.
He was fighting for her. Ada could see it in every line of his body, hear it in the way he breathed, feel it in the air between them.
Magnus's blade swept past Conall's guard, caught him across the ribs. Blood bloomed dark against his shirt. Her father stumbled, gasped. Magnus pressed forward, his strikes coming faster now. Harder.
"Ye should have loved her," Magnus said, his voice cold as winter. "Should have protected her. Should have been the faither she deserved instead of a monster."
"She—is—" Conall panted between deflections, "just—a tool—"
"She is yer daughter!" Magnus roared.
His next strike shattered Conall's guard completely. The older man's sword went flying, landing in the dirt several feet away. Her father stumbled, fell to his knees.
Magnus's blade came to rest at his throat.
For a moment, they froze. Her father staring up at Magnus with fury and fear in his eyes. Magnus staring down, his chest heaving, every muscle trembling.
Ada found her voice. "Magnus."
He didn't look at her. Didn't take his eyes off her father. "He tried tae kill ye."
"I ken." Ada pushed herself to her feet, moved closer despite the trembling in her legs.
"He used ye. Hurt ye. Was willin' tae sacrifice ye fer power."
"I ken that too." Ada's hand touched his arm gently. She could feel the tension in him, the rage barely held in check. "But if ye kill him like this—when he's unarmed, on his knees—ye'll regret it. Ye're nae a murderer, Magnus. Dinnae let him make ye into one."
Magnus's jaw clenched. "He daesnae deserve mercy."
"Nay. He daesnae." Ada moved around to stand beside him, her hand still on his arm. "But we dae. We deserve tae nae have his death on our consciences. Tae nae let him poison what we've built taegether, nae when the king can use it against us."
She saw the conflict in Magnus's eyes, saw him warring with himself. Saw the moment he made his decision.
"Ye're right," Magnus said quietly. "He daesnae deserve mercy."
His blade moved.
One clean strike. Fast and efficient. Her father's eyes went wide, his hands coming up to clutch uselessly at the wound in his throat. Blood spilled between his fingers, dark and terrible.
Conall MacTavish collapsed forward, dead before he hit the ground.