“Drop the knife,” he spoke dangerously low, poised for attack.
“Take another step and I’ll cut the hag’s throat.”
Constructed mostly of stone, the castle would survive a fire. But countless wood outbuildings, alcoves, rafters, and floors might fuel one for hours. The closer Noelle came, the strongerthe stench of scorched wood. Men were scrambling in the courtyard still. Through the thin torchlight, she could make out bodies on the ground—some wearing her father’s colors and others dressed in chain mail.
Getting inside was going to be a challenge. There were only two entrances—the main doors and the entryway along the north end. She hadn’t been to that side in a long time. The castle was a sprawling mass and the newest quarters to the north served as barracks for her father’s army, close to the cellar.
Convinced she was out of danger at the present, Noelle emerged from the woods and hurried across the clearing. She stayed close to the wall while taking measured steps. Halfway around the wall it started to snow. Her feet were already freezing cold and wet.
Loathing swelled inside her. Not knowing the extent of damage to her home was the hardest thing to accept, and now a throbbing headache threatened to slow her down. Whatever inspired men to conquer and take what didn’t belong to them didn’t matter, she knew greed and lust drove them to sin, and very little inspired them to seek forgiveness. These invaders were godless heathens, soulless barbarians.
Noelle stopped and crouched to catch her breath. Part of her wanted to run into the open, waving her arms like a madwoman casting spells, and send them slithering back to their ships in fear. Only in legends…
Noelle put her head in her hands and covered her mouth to stifle a scream. She prayed fervently for guidance and strength. She deeply regretted running away before knowing where her sister was. She had acted in haste and forgotten everything her father had taught her.
Upon finding renewed perseverance, she stood.Only a hundred more yards to the cellar door.
A frigid wind cut through her cloak, chilling her to the core, and she ran the rest of the way. She peered around the corner. The north side of the castle was near the water, separated by a narrow strip of beach. The cursed vessels she’d spied from her windows were closer. Noelle touched her fingers to her heart and lips and pledged to forever hate the man who commanded those ships.
These ships had a different kind of grandeur about them. They called them dragonships because of the sleek design. Rumors claimed hideous effigies were carved into the bow and stern to ward off evil spirits. From where she stood, Noelle saw none. But that ruddy warrior in the hall could rebuff Satan himself—who needed carvings when mortal men looked like that?
Fear of those murderers using their superior numbers to overpower and torture members of the household haunted her as she crept forward.
If these were the same men who raided villages to the north, only a few months ago, all hope was lost. Those ghastly fiends pushed farther inland than ever before and burned everything in sight. They murdered dozens of monks and priests and stole holy relics. She tilted her head back to take in the full extent of the sail on the closest vessel. Begged Christ, she had been wrong the first time she saw it. The outline of the dragon glowed overhead like an ominous sign in the heavens. She lowered her gaze.
Sticky wet sand and snow clumped on the soles of her slippers as she paced anxiously. Believing them Vikings was one thing, confirming it another. And it had taken her too long to get there. Over an hour if her internal clock was working. No more useless deliberation. She had a specific goal.
As she made to take the last step in the direction of the cellar door, her legs tensed so tightly she feared she couldn’t move.My home. My family. My life.
Male voices sounded from somewhere close by. Or maybe they were deceptively carried on the wind. Every nerve ending in her body pulsed warning. The noise eventually faded, and Noelle eyed the door. Hand resting on the knob, she went inside.
It seemed the young master of Durham lacked any moral sense. Randvior felt anger coiling inside as he threw Brian a measured look.Threatening to slit a woman’s throat for disobedience is a coward’s way. Apparently his reputation is based on more than just rumors.Randvior felt nothing but contempt and wished he’d never offered terms. His mercy had been wasted on the likes of this spineless creature.
Although the woman was English, he didn’t wish to provoke Brian. Innocent blood benefited no one. He chose a less menacing stance. Not one Englishman challenged the heir as he tightened his grip on the dagger and pressed it against the woman’s silky throat.
“Let me go…” she said.
“Not a chance,” Brian answered.
“You may think this is what you want, but you’re not thinking straight.” Her pleas made no difference.
The blade stabbed, cutting off her words as she sank to the ground at his feet. Blood pooled around her slim body.
Gasps resounded through the crowd, and a low growl escaped Randvior. He nearly pulled his weapon, hungered to chop Brian down like a cluster of weeds. But his hands were tied—bound by a promise to spare the wretch’s skin.
And Randvior Sigurdsson had never broken an oath in his life.
Chapter Two
Flesh and Blood
Noelle had vaguememories of playing games in the storage rooms as a child. But as the years passed, they served a higher purpose—a sanctuary away from her brother’s growing insanity. Brian’s black reputation drew battle lines across Durham. Some men respected him, but most feared him. Her father did nothing to intervene.
Sons deserved absolute freedom, not daughters.
She stepped off the landing, surprised to find dozens of torches in floor stands down the main hallway. Someone had already searched there. Maybe for her or her sire’s gold. Noelle picked her way along the corridor, relying on the walls to provide the support she needed to keep going. As she reached the end, she could hear men talking above stairs.
Such a long way up.One step, two, and three, she counted, then climbed. The closer she came to the top, the more heated the conversation grew. Heavy footsteps pounded on the other side of the door, making her fidgety—even tempted her to consider a full retreat. Apparently, the battle was over, but the fight had just begun.
