“I ken it is.” Erik straightened, his hand moving to rest on the pommel of his sword—an old habit when his mind worked through problems. “Someone wants her dead or captured. The ship attack failed, so now they’re tryin’ another way. Testing our defenses. Seein’ how close they can get.”
“Or sendin’ a message,” Aksel added quietly.
The room went silent. Erik let the weight of that truth settle over them all.
“I want every man who serves in this castle questioned,” Erik finally said, his voice carrying the kind of quiet authority that made men move. “Find out where they were last night. Who they spoke tae. If anyone actin’ strange, anyone with new coin in their purse. And I want camps searched. If there are men watchin’ us from outside the walls, root them out.”
“That could take days,” Magnus pointed out. “Maybe weeks if they’re well hidden.”
“We dinnae have weeks.” Harald’s voice cut through the tension, his eyes hard. “If there’s an organized threat comin’ against the Pact, me lands could be next. Or any of yers.” His eyes swept over Ivar, Ragnar and Magnus. “We need tae get back tae our own clans, ensure our defenses are sound.”
“Aye,” Magnus agreed grimly. “We’ll stay long enough tae help with the initial search, but after that…” he let the implication hang.
“Then we start now.” Erik’s eyes were cold as winter steel. “Aksel, ye’ll come with me. We’ll ride out tae the western perimeter, see what we can learn from the bodies. The rest of ye—organize search parties. Small groups, experienced men.”
“And Lady Thorsen?” Harald asked, one eyebrow raised.
Erik’s jaw tightened. “She stays in our chamber. Under guard. She daesnae leave unless I’m with her.”
He could already imagine her reaction to that. Could picture those blue-green eyes flashing with indignation, that sharp tongue ready to flay him for treating her like a prisoner.
“There’s one more thing,” Erik said, his voice dropping lower. The men around the table leaned in, sensing the shift in his tone. “I want an invitation sent tae Laird Finnian MacKenzie.”
“Ye cannae be serious,” one of the council members sputtered. “Invite a Highland laird here? Now? With all this?—”
“I am serious.” Erik’s gaze swept the table, daring anyone else to challenge him. “I’ll nae have her think I’m keepin’ her from her kin.”
“Me jarl,” another voice spoke up—Brandr, one of his oldest advisors. “The risk?—”
“Is mine tae take.” Erik’s voice was final. “She’s me wife. Her comfort, her safety—that’s me responsibility now.”
Aksel was studying him with those too-knowing pale eyes, and Erik could see the question forming there.
Brandr hesitated, then asked the question Erik had been waiting for. “And ye trust that?—”
“I trust me wife.” The words came out with more force than Erik intended, and he saw several men straighten in surprise. “Aye, ye heard me right. I trust her.” He paused, letting that sink in. “If she wanted me dead, she’s had plenty of chances already. The fact that I’m still breathin’ tells me all I need tae ken.”
Erik pushed away from the table. “Aksel, with me. The rest of ye—ye have yer orders. I want answers by nightfall.”
The sun was climbing toward its peak when Erik and Aksel reached the western perimeter. The bodies had been moved—laid out on cloth and covered respectfully—but the blood remained. Dark stains on the rocky ground, already turning brown in the autumn air.
Erik crouched beside the nearest puddle, studying the pattern, the angle of the cuts he’d seen on the bodies before they’d been moved.
“Professional,” Aksel said quietly, echoing Erik’s own thoughts. “Someone who kens how tae kill quick and quiet.”
“Aye.” Erik straightened, his eyes scanning the surrounding landscape. Rocky ground, sparse vegetation, plenty of places tae hide and watch. “And someone who kent the guards’ patrol times.”
“Speyingr.” Aksel’s jaw tightened.
“Aye.” The word tasted bitter. “Someone’s been watchin’ us.”
They spent the next hour searching, looking for any sign of the killers—footprints, disturbed ground, anything that might tell them how many there had been or where they’d gone. But the rocky terrain gave up few secrets.
The next time he spoke, Aksel’s voice was tight. “Ye need tae see this.”
Erik moved to where his friend stood at the edge of a small rise, looking down into a shallow valley. And there, hidden by the natural dip in the land, were the signs of a camp. Recent. Multiple fires, by the look of it. Disturbed ground where men had slept.
“How many?” Erik asked quietly.
