Chapter 65
Raye’s body jerked to stillness, but for the thunder of her suddenly raging heartbeat.
Sybil was here. Sybil was at the door. Here.
But — how? Had she been part of the band Fengr had sensed was pursuing them? And why would she have followed Svein here, rather than waiting to meet Kalfr, who had been travelling straight toward her?
But damn it, Kalfr had meant to surprise Sybil with that meeting, so she couldn’t plan a counterattack. And with how quickly Svein had run, her men had surely caught the scent, and thought it was Kalfr’s, instead. Just as Svein had planned.
“I know you’re in there, Kalfr,” came the crooning feminine voice beyond the door. “You were seen, going in. And we can see the smoke from your fire, too.”
Raye desperately clutched at her sword hilt, while her whirling thoughts frantically plucked at threads, fought to pull them together.
Kalfr had been seen, going in? Which had to mean — Sybil’s spies had seen Svein going in, and they’d thought it had been Kalfr.
Suggesting that they’d been far enough away that it hadn’t been obvious that Svein was a child.
They couldn’t have been certain of what they’d seen…
“Come on, Kalfr, let me in,” Sybil said, softer than before. “Don’t you want to see me again? I won’t hurt you, I swear.”
Raye bit back her snort, and though it was risky, she edged toward the front window as quietly as she could, and lifted up the paper covering it, just a crack. Just enough to get a glimpse of the figures waiting on her doorstep.
And yes, that was Sybil, tall and elegant, dressed in travelling clothes, with her dark hair hanging loose over her shoulders — and circled close behind her, there were men.
A group of big, armed, rough-looking men, perhaps a half-dozen of them, plus a small hound dog.
And beyond them, back near the trees, Raye could see a second cluster of men watching, too.
“Come on, Kalfr,” came Sybil’s voice. “Will you please let me in? I just want to talk. These men are just my trusted personal guards, and they’ll stay outside, I swear.”
She sounded earnest, sincere, but Raye’s thoughts snapped back to what Kalfr had told them about Sybil. Her words never matched her scent. She would preen and smile and speak sweetly to me, and reek of bitterness and rage…
Raye carefully lifted the paper on the window again, and took a closer look at the men behind Sybil.
And they… looked familiar. Didn’t they? Yes, curse it, they were the exact same mercenaries who’d come here and threatened her, back at the start of all this.
The ones who’d threatened to burn down her house, and kill Svein, and make him suffer, while she watched.
Raye’s stomach heaved, but she again fought to think, to be brave, to pull it all together.
So Sybil was already lying, because there was no way these rabble-rousing mercenaries were her trusted personal guards.
No, these men must have been the ones still stationed here watching the cottage, while the group further back would be the ones Sybil had actually travelled here with.
But no matter what, just like last time, their goal was surely to get inside — and Sybil was just the ruse, the decoy, to accomplish that end.
Raye would open the door, and they would all rush in, and try to capture or kill the orc they were sure was waiting for them.
“Please, Kalfr,” came Sybil’s wheedling voice. “It’ll be lovely to see each other in person again, won’t it? You can’t have forgotten how good it was, between us. How much you enjoyed our time together. You can have all that again, and more.”
Her voice had dropped into something sultry and seductive, flashing a sudden violent rage behind Raye’s eyes.
No. No. This awful woman had hunted Kalfr all over the realm.
She’d taunted him and mocked him and threatened him.
She’d pushed him to despair, to the point where he’d bled himself out all over that altar, trying to sacrifice himself for this.
And whatever Kalfr had done, however many ways he and Raye had failed each other — he was still Raye’s mate.
Still the father of her son. Still the warm, clever, generous orc who’d welcomed her back into his home, and shared his life with her.
And she was done, fucking done, with this foul enemy trying to murder him, and torture him, and steal him away from her, forever.
So Raye squared her shoulders. Drew in a deep breath. And then stepped closer to the door, covering her mouth with her sleeve.
“Ach, then,” she said, mimicking Kalfr’s accent, pitching her muffled voice as low as she could. “But only you.”
She waited for the reply, straining to hear through her thudding heartbeat.
And when she edged over to peek out the window again, she could see Sybil conferring with the men, silently motioning them forward.
A shamelessly obvious plan to make them attack, and Raye couldn’t help marvelling at the utter arrogance of it, the unthinkable self-belief.
The delusion that Kalfr would be stupid enough, malleable enough, to fall for such a ridiculous falsehood.
But then again, how often had Raye faced treatment like this, too?
How much judgement and censure and mockery had she borne, all these years, for her great sin of raising an orc son?
And how much of this would Svein need to face throughout his life, too?
Especially if these horrible people launched them all into another war?
No. It was enough to sweep away the last whispers of doubt, to settle Raye’s determination even deeper. She would do this, for Kalfr. For Svein. For her band, and her family. No matter the cost.
“Very well, then, love,” Sybil called through the door, as the men took a few steps backwards. “It’ll be just me.”
Raye grimly smiled toward the door, and yanked up the hood on her cloak, drawing it down as far as she could over her eyes.
And she sent up a silent prayer for strength, for cleverness, for bravery, as she quietly unlatched and unbarred the door, and then eased up against the wall beside it, right where it would open…
And then she swept the door wide. Revealing the sudden sight of Sybil’s eyes blinking, her lips parting, as one of the men called out, and they all charged forward —
But Raye was brave. She was strong. She had an orc mate, and an orc son. And she’d been personally fed and trained by her mate’s fierce ástvinur, one of the greatest Bautul warriors in the realm.
She rushed forward hard and fast, staggering Sybil backwards, forcing the men to reel back a step, too — and then she swiped out and gripped Sybil’s tunic, and a large handful of her loose hanging hair.
Twisting the hair around her palm, just like Gaelfr had taught her, gaining control, dragging her close —
And with a jerk and a prayer, Raye dragged Sybil inside, and slammed the door shut behind her.