A hand clamped over her mouth. She screamed into it, a choked, desperate cry that tore at her throat but vanished into the open air. The castle was too far, the walls too thick. No one would hear her. No one would come.
Halvard’s face flashed across her mind—strong, steady, frowning with that fierce protectiveness he tried so hard to hide.
Halvard, please, please hear me. Please come back. Please.
Elsie kicked, twisted, clawed; she refused to let them take her without a fight. Her legs dashed out, trying to kick at the men who approached her, but they quickly caught them both. She continued to scream, but that hand remained firmly fixed over her mouth. Tears streaked down her cheeks, hot in the chilly air, but the men were trained, silent, merciless. One pinned her arms. Another forced a hood over her head, plunging her into suffocating darkness.
“Be careful with her,” a voice muttered beside her. “Harcourt said not to harm her.”
Harcourt.
The name crashed into her like a blow.
Halvard had distrusted him from the moment the man had stepped foot into his home, and he had had good reason to. Elsie had been the naive one, thinking that with him and his people gone, he posed no threat. But clearly, he was not as gone as she would have liked to think.
The men began to carry her away from the castle. Elsie continued to thrash in their grip, to scream at the top of her lungs, but it didn’t matter. She was already too far away from the castle, already exhausted, already caught in the trap.
And now, there was no escape.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The wind bit through wool and leather, sharp as a blade against Halvard’s cheek, but he barely felt it. His horse thundered over the sodden earth, its hooves striking hard enough to rattle the bones of the land itself, yet still he urged the beast faster.
Somethin’ is wrong.
He had felt it the moment they had ridden from the borders—a hollow, gnawing scrape along his ribs, as though fate itself dragged claws across him. It had all been too clean, too convenient; a false alarm meant to pull him away from Brochel.
Away from Elsie.
The dread tightened until it nearly strangled him.
Behind him, Sten swore loudly as he struggled to keep pace. “Halvard! Slow the hell down! Ye are ridin’ like the devil’s gnawin’ at yer heels!”
“He is,” Halvard growled over his shoulder. “An’ if ye’ve any sense, ye’ll keep yer pace an’ let me ride alone.”
Sten barked a laugh, short, winded, irritated. “Nay. If ye run headfirst intae an ambush again, I’ll never forgive meself. Nor will she.”
A muscle jumped in Halvard’s jaw. Elsie, all gentle heart and sharp tongue, wouldn’t forgive Sten either for letting Halvard get himself into trouble. But it was her he thought of as he rode; it was her he was rushing to find, worried that something far more sinister was at play.
The silence in the forest felt wrong—too heavy, too expectant, and he pushed his horse harder, to its limits.
Branches whipped against his shoulders as he plunged through the tree line, the path narrowing into a dense tangle that led toward the western slope near the lake. He was near the castle now, close enough to see it loom over the land like an ancient monument, growing from the very earth itself.
Then a scream tore through the trees; a scream he recognized in an instant, even from afar. He knew that voice, and he would have known it anywhere, even with his eyes closed.
Halvard’s blood turned to ice. “Elsie!”
He didn’t remember leaping from the saddle, but suddenly his boots slammed the ground, and he was sprinting, his sword in hand before thought caught up with movement. Behind him, Sten cursed loudly, the unmistakable sound of his own boots hitting the ground accompanying his voice as he called to Halvard in vain.
He wouldn’t stop—not until he reached her.
Another shout, followed by a deep bellow and a muffled curse. Then, that voice again, the one he knew belonged to Elsie.
“Let me go!”
He burst into the clearing just as one man grabbed Elsie by the waist, hauling her toward the trees. Another was quick on his heels, following and trying to help as Elsie thrashed and twisted in the man’s grip in a desperate attempt to free herself.
Two more men rounded on Halvard, steel drawn, but Halvard didn’t slow.
