Tobey sniffed, eyeing the newcomer.
“I’ve heard of ye,” he hissed. “Ye’re Grahame’s Captain, aye? Well, I suggest ye step aside if ye don’t want me to slice ye from neck to navel.”
Face impassive, the man leveled his sword, glinting in the moonlight, directly at Tobey.
“Go ahead,” he whispered, and his voice was exactly how Senga remembered it in her dreams. “Try it.”
Chapter 2
A Lass In The Stable
The men surged forward, swords flashing. Of course, they wouldn’t be stupid enough to come forward one at a time. Blades met with an echoingclash, and the captain moved between them, fast as lightning. He had always been a good swordsman, but now he was an exceptional one, almost superhuman.
The shock that had rooted Senga’s feet to the earth seemed to fade a little, and she finally was able to move.
She had no sword, of course, nothing but a little knife that hung from her belt. It was really only good for hacking away at plants and roots, but it was certainly a blade, so she took it out anyway, waiting for a break in the fight.
Apparently, Tobey and his men were so secure that they’d be able to bear Senga away that they had all chosen to focus on fighting him.
Gritting her teeth, Senga lunged forward, knife at the ready, and flung herself onto the back of the nearest man. She’d never stabbed somebody before—at least, not outside of a medical setting—but apparently tonight would not be the first time.
The man bucked her off him with embarrassing ease. Placing one shovel-sized hand on her shoulder, he shoved, sending herhurtling backwards. Senga went flying, rolling over the grass and tangling up in her own skirts.
She glanced up in time to see Noah thrust his sword directly through the neck of the man who’d shoved her.
It was such a smooth movement. The captain's face never twitched. He never even blinked, even when the choking, dying man slid off his blade in a smear of blood and lay, spasming and wheezing, until he finally breathed his last and lay still, as dark and dead as the shadows around them.
The reality of death, Senga had found, was very different from what the poems and stories claimed.
The battle continued, with Tobey and his remaining men fighting harder than before. Perhaps they’d suddenly realized that the Grahame Captain was more of a threat than they’d expected.
I cannae just lie here,she thought, and scanned the ground around her for a weapon. She wasn’t going to get far with a knife, but with a decent-sized stone… Aha!
Senga snatched up a perfectly shaped stone, pulled back her arm, and let it fly.
It was a good throw. The stone struck Tobey right on his balding pate. He staggered backwards, disoriented, and clapped a hand to his bleeding scalp. The other Murray man glanced at him, distracted, and that gave the captain the opportunity he needed.
His blade flashed out like a long and silvery fish, slicing the man’s head from his shoulders. Head and body dropped with a thump to the ground and lay still.
Silence fell over the clearing. Tobey lowered a shaking, blood-smeared hand. He glanced between where Senga stood, shaking, and where the captain waited with his bloody sword. Then he took a step backwards, and Senga knew that he was going to flee.
She was right.
Tobey spun around and began to run, heading towards the darkness of the trees. No doubt he’d have a horse hidden there. The captain pulled a knife from his belt and aimed. It struck Senga with a sickening rush that he was going to throw it.
“No!” she cried, throwing herself at him and grabbing his arm. “Don’t! Ye cannot kill a man as he runs away! It’s dishonorable!”
Her movement had brought her too close to him. He smelled of horses and sweet grass, a heady scent that made her knees want to buckle.
How is it that he still smells the same after all these years?
His forearm tensed under her grip, and he unceremoniously pulled away, the knife still gripped in his hand. It was too late to catch Tobey, who’d disappeared into the trees. It was just the two of them left.
Senga stared up at him. He stared back.
She found herself longing to lift her hand and trace the curve of the scar on his cheek with her fingertip.
This can’t be real,Senga thought numbly.Perhaps I’m asleep. Maybe I’m dead. He’s not here.
