Hew had written to his kin, singing Lady Carenza’s praises.Had Feiyan said nothing?Had Laird Deirdre failed to intercede with the king on Hew’s behalf?
Or had Malcolm slighted the clan, forgetting it was the Rivenlochs who protected his border?
What milksop of a husband had the child king chosen for his beautiful Carenza?
He scanned the words and let his eye fall on the signature at the bottom.His breath caught.
Laird Deirdre Cameliard of Rivenloch.
It was his aunt’s hand and her seal.
Whatever had been done had been done with her permission.
Then his gaze traveled back up the document.
There were the blows of the hammer.Striking his heart.Over and over and over again.
Gellir.
Gellir.
Gellir.
His cousin.Carenza had been promised to his cousin.
Still there was no pain.
Only cold and hollow death dwelt in his chest.
He let the scroll fall from his fingers.
Carenza was saying something to him.But he was deaf to everything but the clanging of that name upon his armored heart.
Gellir.
Gellir.
Gellir.
He was beyond hurt.Beyond betrayal.Beyond rage.Beyond feeling.
Slowly, as if he moved through muck, he shouldered his axe and pushed through the doors of the great hall.
The sky was black.The clouds hung low.It was raining again.But he felt neither the wet nor the cold.
Anger burned low inside him like a glowing coal.
He strode across the courtyard, through the gates, past the road, over the rain-slick sward, climbing higher and higher, until it seemed he might be swallowed up by the clouds.
There, at the top of the mountain, all his pain and fury sparked to life.He raised his axe and, like a dragon breathing fire, bellowed in rage at the heavens.
An instant later, the god of his ancestors replied, sending down a bolt of lightning to kiss the blade of his axe.
Hew released the weapon just before the wood handle exploded and earth-shaking thunder rumbled down.Current crackled in the air all around him as he staggered back from the snapping whip of Thor.
When the storm receded, Hew was left among the black and smoking shards of his weapon, clinging to the crushed and broken pieces of his heart.
He looked toward Kildunan.He supposed the monastery would serve as his home now until the king found a bride for him.He wouldn’t return to Dunlop.And he didn’t have the stomach to speak to his treacherous Rivenloch kin.
