Once Ewan had left the trees, Morren shivered. He was out in the open, where anyone could attack. It made her uneasy, and she saw the reflection of her fears in Honora’s face.
“I’ll be fine,” Morren told her. “Go and guard his back.”
“But you—“
“He’s in more danger than I am. I promise, I won’t leave the trees.”
Honora looked torn but gave a nod and drew her own blade. “I won’t be gone for very long.”
Morren watched from within the shelter of the trees as both of them continued toward the hillside, tracking the footprints. The cold wind made the branches shiver, and she huddled against one of the trees, beside an evergreen yew to shelter her from the wind.
“You killed my brother,” came a voice.
She spun and Egill stepped out from behind the yew, staring at her. In his hand, he held a knife. Morren tried to voice a scream, but it froze within her throat. Ewan and Honora weren’t far away, but she couldn’t seem to overcome the suffocating fear.
Egill drew closer, and she stepped backwards. “They won’t have time to help you. I’ll slit your throat before they can move.” He held the knife up, fury rigid upon his face. “I watched my brother burn because of your accusations. Whoring bitch.”
Morren took another step backwards. If she could reach the clearing, Ewan could help her. But a moment later, Egill grabbed her arm and dragged her to him. She felt the kiss of the blade against her throat.
I’m going to die.
Every moment of the previous attack returned to her, and she felt lightheaded and nauseous. She wanted to fight back, but her limbs wouldn’t move. Empty screams locked in her throat, her courage imprisoned.
Egill Hardrata didn’t care about anything, save vengeance for his brother. The rigid darkness in him reminded her of Trahern’s coldness, only months ago.
She’d been afraid of everything, then. A fragmented shell of a woman with no substance. But Trahern had given her back her strength, teaching her not to be afraid of the darkness. In him, she’d found herself once more. A woman of worth.
I won’t be his victim this time,she swore.Not again.
Her mind seized upon Egill’s weakness, and she used the force of her weight to stomp upon his burned feet. He expelled a cry of pain, his hand slipping against her neck. She felt the stinging slice of the blade, the warmth of blood on her throat.
But she kicked at him again, fighting back against her own fears and seizing control. He wasn’t going to take her life, and she wasn’t going to die quietly.
Wrenching free of him, she let out a piercing scream that brought Ewan and Honora running. Egill lunged for her, but when he caught her wrist, Morren threw herself to the ground. She rolled over, her palm finding a stone.
Voices shouted, but she heard none of what they’d said. A knife flashed, and she struck the stone at Egill’s face, hearing the crunch of bone. Blood streamed from his wound, and he crumpled to the ground.
It was then that she saw the knife embedded in Egill’s back. Standing behind him was Trahern. She didn’t know when he’d gotten there or how, but her husband caught her up in his arms. Morren clung so tightly, it was as if she became a part of him.
“Are you all right?” he whispered in her ear, still not letting go. “You’re bleeding.”
“I’ll be all right.” She used her brat to wipe away the smear of blood. “How did you—“
“I was tracking him.” His expression turned grim, sobering at the body of the raider. “Exile or not, I wanted my answers.”
“What about the other outlaw?” Her voice trembled, and the shock of what had happened was starting to take hold. “He’s still alive.”
“Not anymore,” Ewan said, joining them with Honora at his side. “Áron took care of him.” He pointed in the distance toward the path of blood.
“It was the last raider’s tracks you saw in the snow,” Ewan explained. “I found Trahern and the others when I followed the trail of blood.” He glanced at his wife, and Honora colored with guilt.
Trahern glared at Ewan. “You should never have left Morren alone. She could have been killed.”
“I’m sorry,” Honora apologized. “I blame myself for what happened.”
“No,” Morren intervened, sliding her hand around Trahern’s waist. “It was my fault for sending Honora away. I thought it was safe.” She touched her palm to Trahern’s cheek, trying to soothe his anger. In truth, it warmed her to know that he’d worried. “I didn’t know Egill was hiding among the yew trees.” Morren pointed to the evergreen where the raider concealed himself. “None of us did.”
The glint in Trahern’s eyes suggested that there was something else bothering him. Gunnar rejoined them, his own countenance grim.
