Harald urged his horse into the forest, following game trails and old patrol routes, his mind only half on the search.
The other half kept circling back to the previous night—to Enya sitting beside him at dinner, her spine straight despite the bruise on her jaw, her voice steady even when Henry had been an insufferable arse about the wedding night.
She'd been humiliated.
Harald had seen it in the set of her shoulders, the way she'd stared at her plate like she could will herself to be invisible. But she hadn't fled. Hadn't broken down. Just endured with a quiet dignity that had made him want to put his fist through Henry's smug face.
It was dangerous. All of it. He couldn't afford to worry about a woman who might be part of whatever scheme her brother was running.
But saints help him, he was starting to anyway.
The thought was still troubling him when he heard it, a sound that didn't belong in the afternoon quiet.
A scream. Female. Distant but unmistakable.
Harald was moving before conscious thought caught up, spurring his horse toward the sound. The forest blurred past as he crashed through underbrush, following his instincts and the terrible silence that had fallen after that first cry.
Please let me be wrong. Please let it be a bird, an animal, anything but?—
He broke through the trees into a small clearing and his heart stopped.
Wolves.
Three of them, circling something—someone—on the ground. And beyond them, pressed against a tree with terror written across her face, was Enya.
"Are ye certain about this, me lady?"
Amelia's voice was tight with worry as they walked through the castle gardens, pretending to admire the winter-bare plants. To anyone watching, they were just taking the air. Getting familiar with their new home.
In reality, Enya was counting steps to the eastern gate, memorizing the patrol patterns she'd observed from her chamber window. Harald was out patrolling and she wanted to make the most of her time to figure out how to communicate with her brother.
"I have tae," Enya said quietly. "Finley will be waitin'. If I dinnae show, he'll think somethin's wrong."
"Somethin'iswrong." Amelia kept her voice low. "Ye're spyin' on a man who's been naethin' but kind tae ye. A man who defended ye last night in front of the whole hall."
"I ken what he did." Enya's throat was tight. She hadn't stopped thinking about it—about Harald's cold fury when Henry had embarrassed her, about the way he'd looked at her after and said she was worth defending. "But that daesnae change what I promised Finley."
"It should." Amelia caught her arm, forcing her to stop. "Me lady, please. Ye dinnae owe yer braither this. Nae after he sent ye intae that ambush."
"We dinnae ken it was him. "
"Dinnae we?" Amelia's eyes were fierce. "Four guards, me lady. Four. On the most dangerous road at the worst possible time. The laird said as much, I’ve heard. Ye ken how people speak in the keep. And where was Finley? Safe in his hidden camp, nae anywhere near the danger he put ye in."
The words hit too close to thoughts Enya had been trying not to have. She'd spent half the night lying awake, replaying the ambush, wondering if her brother had known. If he'd planned it.
If he'd been willing to risk her life for his schemes.
"I have tae go," she said instead of answering. "Just... keep watch, aye? If anyone comes, signal me."
Amelia looked like she wanted to argue more, but finally nodded. "Be quick. And be careful."
Enya slipped through the eastern gate while the guards were changing shifts—a gap in coverage she'd noticed that morning.
The forest was cold and quiet, shadows already lengthening despite the early hour. She moved quickly, following the directions Finley had given her, counting her steps until she reached the clearing he'd described.
He was already there, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. The sight of him should have brought relief. Instead, Enya felt only unease.
"Ye're late," Finley said by way of greeting.
