He headed for the door. “No. I’ll go after her myself.” The need to find her burned sudden and hot within him, like a flame touched to a bucket of pitch.
Bridei had never felt the particular combination of emotions that flooded him as he made his way to the stables to fetch a horse.Rage. That one was right there near the surface, but just a little deeper was a nebulous cloud of sadness, disappointment, and betrayal. Had he really hoped she was just a lass who was travelling with her uncle? He supposed he had. But now he knew the truth. She had taken his own prized stallion to ride to Ecgfrith. He was sure of it. Had she learned anything of importance? Had he let his guard down so much?Oh aye,he most certainly had.
And to think he had wanted her in his bed as he’d never wanted a woman before. A woman who had been sent for that very purpose, to seduce and betray him. His disgust at his own weakness only further fueled the rage burning in his veins. He would findNessa of Fife, certainly Not a Goddess, and she would die at his hands. Perhaps he would even send her head back to Ecgfrith.
It didn’t take him long to find her following her ill-concealed trail, but she wasn’t on the road to Ecgfrith’s lands, after all. She was riding slowly through the forest and making enough noise that he could have tracked her even without the light of the moon.
“Angus! Angus please answer me. Where are you? Ineedyou! You can come out now. Everything will be ok, I promise.”
The sound of her voice echoed through the silent trees, though it was obvious she was trying her best to call softly. She suddenly switched from Pictish to the strange tongue he had heard her speak before, and though he couldn’t understand the words, there was a note of desperation in her voice that made him pause. She wasn’t just calling for her uncle, she was talking to herself out loud, and by the sound of it, very near to sobbing.
“I can’t wait much longer, Angus. I don’t know where you are! Angusplease! I don’t know how to get home without you. I miss Gram. This has gone on long enough!”
He moved silently closer, watching her, biding his time, knowing with certainty she had no hope of escaping him. His horse stepped on a twig and the snap echoed loudly. Nessa turned, her eyes frantically scanning the trees until she saw him. Her face was limned in moonlight, her eyes wide and dark and filled with shock. At first her whole body seemed to sink in defeat and she looked as if she might burst into tears. But then she took a deep breath and drew herself up tall, resigned to whatever fate befell her.
He urged his horse forward, and she stayed still as he approached. She wasn’t going to run, even though she had to know what must happen.Smart lass. He would have caught her before she had gone ten paces. He circled her slowly before drawing his mare to a halt.
“So…you are a horse thief now.”
Her eyes widened in horror, as if she hadn’t even thought about what she had done until that very moment.
“No! I only borrowed him, I swear! He was in the field, and he came up to me…and I thought I could just…”
“Just what?” Bridei struggled to keep his voice even. “You thought you could just take my horse?”
“Borrow!”
“Borrow implies you had permission. You did not.”
She dropped her eyes, and he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she tried to overcome the panic that must certainly be rising there. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
He came up beside her, and grabbed her by the waist, lifting her effortlessly to sit just in front of him. He knew his arm around her ribs was too tight, and he was probably hurting her. He could feel his own fury in the flex of his muscles. His whole body vibrated with it.
He leaned forward and spoke softly, ominously, near her ear. “I believe you know what price a horse thief must pay.” And now…now he would be forced to do what he had so fervently hoped against.
This time, it was Nessa who stood in front of the crowd next to the blood-soaked alter, but the crowd was eerily silent tonight. She was shaking. Her throat was so tight that she couldn’t breathe, and her thoughts were whirling around so fast in her mind that she couldn’t focus on a single one. Bridei stood behind her, one strong hand locked around her arm. Was this really how she was going to die? In a time not her own? With not one person who would mourn her? At the age of only twenty-four? It didn’t seem fair. She had felt, somehow, that she had so much more to do before she left this world…
“I wonder what I could have done with my life, had I lived longer”, she whispered to herself. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and rolled down one cheek. Maybe Gram would already be waiting for her. That, at least, was something. She clung to that thought as the only comfort left to her.
It was her turn too soon. She was led up onto the altar by Bridei himself, and there she stood, looking out over the faces of the people in front of her, flickering in the firelight. Most of them were familiar now, some more than others, but there was no cheering, no chanting by the priests in the ancient language. People exchanged uncertain glances and a few whispered to each other. Nessa could feel the strange tension in the air even above her own fear. Something was wrong.
She felt the cold metal of the blade against her throat and she cried out in shock. Then she steeled herself and stood taller. The only thing left to do in this life was to die bravely, and that’s what she intended to do. Gram had always told her that if you have to do something you’d rather not, at least do it boldly.
Just before she squeezed her eyes shut, she saw someone pushing forward through the throng of people. Long white hair and a dress of dark purple emerged from the shadows and into the light. Meara.
“Don’t, Bridei!” It was more of a command than a plea.
The force of the blade against her skin eased just the tiniest bit. “Who are you to tell me how to punish a criminal, woman?”
Meara stood tall before him, meeting his stubborn gaze with one of her own. “I’ve seen the future this night, my King, and this lass is a part of it. The gods do not wish her dead, at least not yet.”
“She stole my horse.”
“She is a stranger here and doesn’t know our ways.”
The crowd seemed to hold its collective breath, waiting to see what the King would do. One man came forward from the rest. “Do it! You are commanded by the gods to uphold the law! The woman must die.”
“Stand down, Sten. Meara has said the gods do not wish her death. Now I must decide, am I beholden to the law or to the gods themselves?”
