The sun climbed victoriously into the sky and Ardahl tried to come to terms with the fact that he was still alive. He had not thought to survive this battle.
“Ye can put that down now, I think.”
Someone stood in front of him. Hollering at him. After the din of the battle, everything sounded muffled and yet too loud.
He stared at Dornach, who addressed him. The war chief ran with blood and the ugly wound on his cheek had been reopened, but aye, he too had survived.
Ardahl felt glad of it.
Dornach jerked his head at Ardahl’s hand. “Ye can put away your sword.”
“Oh. Aye.”
Ardahl sheathed the weapon and only then realized his hands shook.
“Are ye bad hurt, lad?”
“I—” He did not know. “Nay.”
“I saw what ye did. We all saw.”
He nodded at the group of men standing together, and Ardahl counted heads as he might treasure. Fearghal had survived, aye. And he saw, miraculously, Kell just beyond.Cathair.
“Have we lost many?”
“Too many. But, by the gods, I believe it is done. Wi’ Dacha dead and our two tribes united this way, I do no’ think any will soon step out against us.”
Dornach’s hand came down on Ardahl’s shoulder. “Ye ha’ done well this day. I marked how ye fought—rushing in there without thought for yourself. And your honor, it did no’ bend.”
Ardahl said nothing.
“Come get your wounds tended. Grand news—the healer also survived. But he will be kept busy this while. Come.”
Ardahl did not expect to be tended ahead of the chief or Dornach himself. When he reached the group among which the chief stood, Fearghal embraced him, thumped him hard on the back.
“The hero o’ the battle! First among our warriors.”
Ardahl did not know what to say. His gaze met that of Cathair, who stood close by. In Cathair’s wide, blue eyes he saw—
Not the jealousy he anticipated. Nay, indeed, but something far different. Hesitancy. A marked lack of the usual aggression.
Gratitude?
No time to ponder it, then. The healer took him into care, and he suddenly and painfully remembered just how many wounds he had.
He sat staring at the sky, an expanse of achingly perfect blue, and endured the treatment. He would return to Liadan torn and shredded, a remnant of the man he’d been.
He would return to Liadan.
Suddenly his heart bounded so strong and triumphant, he knew nothing else. He would look into her eyes. Catch the gift of her smile. Even if they never shared anything more than that, it would be enough.
It would be enough.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Liadan once moreknelt on the floor of the hut beside the hearth, praying. She did not remember why she’d got down here in the first place—to blow on the fire, no doubt. Nor did she know how long she’d knelt here—a while, mayhap, for her knees had cramped.
She spoke to Brigid, wise and understanding. Brigid, who had always listened to her. Who knew a woman’s heart.
