Odo.
Odo was standing there. The big man had risen up to tower over Miles. Briar cried out, just as Odo slipped his meaty arms around Miles’s waist, lifted him, and began to squeeze.
Miles went still, his face slack with shock. And then he began to writhe and struggle, pushing with desperate hands at those powerful arms. Briar stumbled away backward, tripping over a stool. As she fell to the floor, she noticed her sword lying on the ground nearby. Half crawling, she made her way to the weapon and snatched it up, at the same time turning to see what was happening with Miles and Odo.
“You brainsick oaf!” Miles’s face was flushed and furious. He had managed to get one arm out of the death grip, and now he swung his elbow around, into Odo’s face. Blood gushed from the big man’s nose. Odo let him go and sank to his knees, clutching at his face with his hands and making a soft keening sound.
Miles stumbled and half fell onto the bed. Immediately he rolled and stood up, looking around and finding her crouched on the floor. His gray eyes glittered with triumph.
“You have proved surprisingly hard to capture, lady,” he said, a little breathless from his struggle with Odo. “But the game is over now.”
Briar straightened, her sword held before her, and tried to keep her hands steady. “Ivo is going to kill you,” she said, her voice strong and unwavering. “But only if I don’t do it first.”
He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, and then grinned as he reached to his side and unsheathed his own sword. Briar stared blankly at the length of sharp steel. She could fight him, and perhaps keep him busy for a short while, but he would beat her and likely kill her in the end. She was no match for a trained fighting man—Ivo had taught her that, and she was grateful now.
But she could run.
Briar lifted her sword and flung it at him like an oversized dagger, then turned and fled through the open door.
She had taken three steps into the open air when he caught her. It wasn’t far enough. She screamed, and some birds flew up from the river, echoing her cry. Again Miles twisted his hand in her hair and pulled her back against his body. Briar felt the cold, heavy blade of his sword come to rest against her tender throat.
“Perhaps I’ll kill you here,” he said through gritted teeth, and she knew she had made him angry. “Then Ivo will find your body when he finally comes to save you. Poor Ivo. He is always too late. Did he tell you that? If you are pinning your hopes on Ivo, lady, then you will be disappointed.”
“Will she, brother?”
“Ivo!” Briar struggled and tried to run, but Miles held her fast. The blade pressed harder, and she was still.
Ivo, mounted upon his horse, walked it from around the side of the dwelling. Slowly, carefully, as if there was no hurry. Briar gazed up into his face, seeing the grim determination. There was a deadly look in his black eyes, and after one swift glance at Briar, to assure himself she was all right, they settled upon his brother.
In turn Miles watched him, his body still as a snake about to strike. Excitement and anticipation thrummed through him—Briar could feel both. “Brother, you surprise me. You are usually so tardy when it comes to saving those you love.”
“I’m going to kill you, Miles. Let her go, and we can fight. That’s what you really want, isn’t it?”
Miles bared his teeth. “You’d give your life for hers, wouldn’t you? Good and noble Ivo! You make me puke. I’ve hated you all my life, but never so much as I hate you now.”
“Then fight me!” Ivo shouted, and Briar understood then that he knew. Knew that Miles was going to kill her, there in front of him, and then Ivo would not care whether he himself lived or died.
“Let her go.”
The voice sounded rough, as though it had not been used for a very long time. It came from behind Miles, from the door of the dwelling. Briar tried to turn, but even as she struggled, Miles was spinning her around. Odo’s fist struck empty air. Miles brought his arm back and then thrust his sword into the big man with a satisfied grunt.
Briar slipped out of his grasp and fell to the ground. She knew she should run, get away, but she seemed unable to move from the spot. Odo sat down, hands to his wound, staring up in surprise at Miles.
“I should have done that before,” Miles panted, annoyed with himself, and then turned to look at Briar. “And now for you,” he said.
Briar felt the air stir, the tremor of the horse’s hooves on the ground. Miles looked up, his eyes widened. The horse, already in motion, came in a rush between Miles and Briar. Ivo swung his own sword, the blade arching gracefully.
Miles fell without a sound.
Briar rose on shaking legs. Ivo had dismounted, reluctantly, and was staring down at his brother. Miles’s chest rose and fell wildly, as if he couldn’t get enough air, the bright blood spreading across his breast. He gazed up at Ivo, gray eyes dulled now, fading. His mouth curled into a smile—Ivo’s smile.
“Ivo,” he whispered. “I want to... I want to…”
Ivo dropped to one knee, leaning closer. “What is it, Miles?”
Miles gasped, swallowed, and said, “I want to tell you that I’ll beat you yet,” and then the air rattled from his throat, and he was gone.
“Odo!”
