“That I heard,” I whispered in a voice that had gone suddenly hoarse, dry as kindling.
My gaze swept around us.
Suddenly there were more snapping twigs and rustling bushesand crackling leaves. The heat in me woke, popping and boiling, frothing inside my chest, climbing up my windpipe, ready to be expelled, ready to defend.
Fell let go of my hand. His arm shot out, wrapping around me, folding me in behind his bigger body, his sword aloft before us.
He moved us together in a small circle, surveying, the vertical pupils of his eyes vibrating like trees shuddering in a storm.
“Hold steady,” he rasped, and I knew instantly what he was saying. He was cautioning me not to turn, not to manifest into a dragon. Not yet. Not until we knew what was out there.
We did not have long to wait to find out.
They charged into our midst with swords drawn.
Just aswehad heard them,theyhad heard us, cutting and tromping through the trees. We had not been operating with the most stealth in mind. This close to the Borg, to what we perceived as sanctuary, we had lowered our guard. A mistake. We were still in the Crags, even if a much more sedate, tamer version of it.
We braced and tensed.
There were three. I took them in at a glance. Warriors in the familiar accoutrement of the Borderlands. Long hair, braided at the sides, close to their scalps. Armored leather tunics with fur at the shoulders. Arm guards. Scabbards at their backs, empty now. They wielded their swords before them, the sharp tips pointed at us.
Warriors of the Borderlands and not Stig’s soldiers. That was something. A definite relief.
I blinked, recognizing one of them. “Magnus!” I cried.
He was one of the warriors who had accompanied Fell into the skog. I had rescued him alongside Fell and Mari and Vidar from the huldra. He had been kind to me, singing my praises after that enterprise as soon as we reached the Borg. I was a hero in his eyes. Now those eyes skimmed over me to land on Fell.
“Magnus,” Fell breathed in relief, some of the tension ebbing from him.
“My lord!” he cried, lowering his sword. “You’re alive!” Hegaped, staring at him for one long moment before quickly shaking his head and dropping onto one knee in deference.
Magnus shot a quick glance to each of the equally astonished warriors beside him, nudging one of them hard. The other two followed suit, dropping to their knees gracelessly.
“Stand. Rise to your feet,” Fell hastily assured them.
Reaching a hand for Magnus, he pulled the man into him with a back-smacking embrace. Magnus’s face flushed with pleasure, but there was something else there, too. A shifty-eyed tension that belied his seeming good cheer.
Then Magnus’s gaze returned to me. If possible, his eyes grew even wider. “My lady,” he said, as though the sight of me was even more shocking than the sight of his lordship. “It is good to see you.” His attention lingered on me, and I began to feel a slow trickle of unease, knowing he must have heard about my encounter with Stig. The bloody whipping. My escape. “Wonderful to seebothof you,” he quickly added with a heavy gust of breath. He looked to Fell again. “We thought you were … everyone said …” His voice faded, and he flushed, as though feeling guilty for believing the news of Fell’s death.
“Dead?” Fell supplied as Magnus seemed rather conflicted about saying it aloud.
Magnus nodded with a wince. “We searched for you at length, my lord.” He shook his head as though to clear it. “Where have you been?”
Fell and I exchanged looks. “It’s a long story.”
One of the warriors shook out a little laugh. “I imagine so.”
Magnus cast his comrade a withering look. “I am certain his lordship will explain all in good time. Presently, let’s escort them back home.” Again, Magnus shot me a worrisome look, clearly fretting bringing me back to the Borg given Stig’s bloodlust for me.
Fell had suggested I wait, hide in the Borg until all was settled and he was reinstated.
“You’re daft if you think I’m letting you out of my sight … and for what? So that you can march into the Borg and challenge Stigwithout me covering your back?” At the time of our discussion, I’d dug in my heels and shaken my head resolutely. “Not happening.”
“Are you scouting?” Fell asked, pulling me back to the present moment. “This far from the Borg?”
The three warriors looked at one another as though this was a complicated question. It didn’t feel right. None of this did. The tiny hairs on my neck prickled, my skin tightening.
Fell noted it, too. He moved his head in that animal way of his again, looking from me to these men who had served him so faithfully. There was more to them being out here than merely scouting, but they did not seem willing to say it.
