She did, ever so slowly. Rain beaded in her lashes; her lips were pale, parted, her eyes impossibly wide as they searched his face as though to be certain he was not a dream torn loose by fear.
“Ye’re safe now,” he said, the words a vow forged in blood and rain. “I have ye. I willnae let anyone take ye from me. Nae ever.”
Her hand lifted, trembling, and she touched his face, her fingers tracing his cheek, the line of his jaw, as though memorizing him. Her touch was feather-light, reverent.
“I knew,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Even when they dragged me here, I knew you would come.”
The confession struck him harder than any blade the trust she was showing him. She was right to trust him, for Halvard wouldrather have lost his own life than let anything happen to her, and he would fight to his last breath for her.
“O’ course I came,” he said fiercely, the truth tearing free at last. “Because the thought o’ losin’ ye—” His voice failed him for a moment and he swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue, forcing himself to swallow down the swell of emotion. “There is nay life fer me that daesnae have ye in it.”
Elsie’s breath hitched. She looked up at Halvard with wide eyes, unshed tears glinting in them as they stared at each other in silence. There was nothing around them but the sound of the rain, the sound of her breath as it hitched in her throat, as if words were trying to tear free from her body but found no way out.
“Halvard,” she whispered, and said his name like a prayer. “I tried to be brave. I was so afraid but all I could think was that I loved you.”
The world seemed to still around them. Those three words, spoken so simply, so truthfully, were what finally became his undoing.
He bowed his head. “I love ye,” he said simply, the words settling deep and true. “I think I have from the moment ye looked at me and didnae flinch.”
A small, trembling smile curved her mouth. Elsie leaned into him fully then, her body yielding, trusting, and Halvard held her as though she were something holy.
They stood like that for a long moment amid the wreckage of hatred and revenge, until Sten cleared his throat softly behind them.
“We should go,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, though there were no more signs of a threat. Whoever was still left standing, still left breathing, had retreated into the shadows now that the master they served was no longer. But Sten was right; there was no telling how many of them might be loyal enough to Harcourt to return just to avenge the man.
Halvard nodded, though he did not loosen his hold until Elsie herself drew a steadier breath. The three of them made their way back towards the inn, followed by Halvard’s men, leaving the carnage of the pier behind.
The inn felt different when they returned; quieter, safer, as though the walls themselves had closed ranks around them. The fire in the common room had burned low, only embers glowing now, the smell of smoke and wet wool lingering in the air.
Those who had gathered there though, looked at them with suspicion. All of them were drenched in rain and splattered with blood and mud. All of them had been heard by the entire village while fighting right behind the inn, and there was no soul there who didn’t already know about the fight.
Halvard was quick to guide Elsie upstairs, his hand firm at her back, never letting her trail behind him. Once inside their room, he shut the door and barred it without a word.
Only then did the tension fully leave his body.
He crossed the room and drew her into his arms again, more gently this time, cradling her head against his chest. She sighed, a sound of relief so profound it tightened something in his throat.
“Ye’re shakin’,” he whispered.
“I think it’s ending,” she said softly. “All the fear.”
He sat with her on the edge of the bed, rubbing slow, steady circles between her shoulder blades until her breathing evened. She looked up at him then, her eyes bright and certain.
“We need to return to the castle,” she said. “And write to the king. Harcourt’s hand was in everything.”
“Aye,” Halvard agreed. “The king himself sent this man here, at our doorstep. He needs tae ken what kind o’ a snake he unleashed upon us.”
“Do you think he knew?”
The question had crossed his mind plenty of times—whether the king had been fully aware of the kind of man Harcourt was before sending him there, whether all of this was calculated from the very start. But in the end, it was very unlikely. Besides, even if it was the truth, Halvard doubted he would ever truly find out.
“I dinnae think so,” he said. “But there is always a chance.”
Elsie nodded, then reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Whatever comes,” she said, “we face it together.”
Halvard lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, a gesture of devotion rather than possession.
“Taegether,” he echoed.
