A man lunged at him, his face twisted with hatred. Kenneth drove him back, then finished him with a swift, brutal stroke. Another followed, then another, as if they meant to wear him down by the sheer weight of numbers. He welcomed it. Every fallen enemy brought him one step closer to Selene.
Then, from the rear of the smoke-shrouded field, a new sound rose – a deep, rolling cry of voices lifted in unison.
Halvard’s warriors burst from the trees like a breaking wave.
They struck Aidan’s men from behind, blades flashing, muskets firing, their arrival sowing instant chaos. Shouts of alarm rippled through the enemy ranks as the line buckled and men spun around to face the new threat. The tide of the battle shifted as the momentum was ripped from Aidan’s grasp, surging in Kenneth’s favor.
Smoke hung thick in the air, but now came the sounds of retreat – panicked cries, boots scrambling, and still the sharp crack of steel meeting steel.
Through the chaos of the battle, he glimpsed Selene, her long hair half loose around her shoulders, her gown ripped, lace hanging in shreds. Wrists bound, she was held fast in Aidan’s grasp, with one arm locked brutally across her chest and a dirk pressed close enough to her throat that a single twitch would hurt her. Her face was pale, her breath ragged, but her eyes were fierce with defiance as she struggled against her captor, a thin trickle of blood from her neck soaking her gown.
The sight struck Kenneth like a physical blow, the warrior’s red mist descending like a cloak, his rage all-consuming.
He surged forward, a roar tearing from his chest as he closed the distance between them. Aidan scarcely had time to raise his sword before Kenneth was upon him. The impact drove Aidanbackward, his feet faltering, his grip on Selene weakening just enough.
Wrenching herself free, she stumbled and fell hard to the ground, struggling as Kenneth stepped between them, his blade already raised. Aidan swore savagely, recovering his balance and drawing his sword.
They clashed with a violence born of hatred finally unleashed. Steel against steel, sparks flying as their blades struck again and again.
Aidan fought with brutal resolve, driving forward relentlessly, forcing Kenneth back step by step, his strikes wild but powerful.
Kenneth blocked, countered, parried, twisted aside, each movement precise despite the fury blazing through him. Their swords locked, their faces inches apart, Aidan’s eyes burning with malice.
“Eilidh was never yers,” Aidan snarled, forcing his blade down with all his strength.
Kenneth parried the blow and shoved him back with a snarl of his own. “You were never worthy of her.”
Aidan lunged, overreaching in his fury.
Kenneth turned the strike aside, stepped inside Aidan’s guard, driving his blade forward with ruthless strength, sinking thesteel deep into Aidan’s chest. The blow carried them both forward for a heartbeat before Aidan froze, shock flashing across his face.
Then he sagged, his sword slipping from his fingers. Kenneth wrenched his blade free and stepped back as Aidan collapsed to the ground and lay motionless.
The red mist lifted, leaving behind the sharp, ragged beat of Kenneth’s heart. He was at Selene’s side in an instant.
She lay on the cold ground where she had fallen, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Kenneth dropped to his knees, already cutting her free. His dirk made quick work of the ropes, and the moment they fell away he gathered her into his arms, drawing her against his chest as though she might vanish if he loosened his hold.
She was trembling violently, her face pale and drawn, but when she lifted her head, her eyes meeting his were shining with love.
“Ye’re safe,” he said hoarsely, the words torn from somewhere deep and raw within him. He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing in her scent, grounding himself in the warmth and reality of her presence. “Dear love, I have ye safe against me heart.”
Around them, the remnants of the battle were being brought under control. Halvard barked orders as his warriors moved through the camp, ensuring no threat remained. Callum stoodwatch nearby, sword still in his hand, his gaze sweeping the tree line.
Kenneth barely noticed.
For the first time since the since the bells had shattered the morning, the tension that had driven him forward loosened its grip.
The fight was over.
Selene was alive.
He rose carefully, holding her in his arms as though she weighed nothing at all. He carried her back through the churned earth and drifting smoke toward Arkan, who stood waiting, restless but unharmed.
He settled her in the saddle before him, one arm firm around her waist, unwilling to let go even for a heartbeat.
As he swung up behind her, he bent his head close to her ear, his voice low and fierce.
“I promise ye this, Selene, I swear on me life that naught will ever take ye from me again. Nae treachery, nae vengeance, nae the ghosts of this day’s terrible deeds.”
