Dornar dropped to one knee in Tristan’s relentless grip as Jos and Garet rocketed to their feet, launching themselves toward Grendel.
But they were too late. Nim had hurled herself forward the moment the words left her lips, swept her arm up in a vicious undercut, and plunged a gleaming dagger, his grandfather’s dagger, deep into Grendel’s chest.
The king’s favorite stood, shocked, hand still reaching for his sword. He hadn’t seen Nim as a threat—and he’d paid for it with a blade between his ribs.
But only a small blade. And Grendel was still standing.
Dornar thrashed wildly at Tristan’s feet, trying and failing, to escape the brutal shoulder lock.
Jos and Garet lifted their weapons and circled Grendel, their faces drawn in savage bloodlust.
They would never allow Grendel to threaten Nim, nor any other woman, ever again. And nor would he.
The beast inside him crowed at the coming death of the monster that had terrorized his woman. But he didn’t want her to watch. “Nim. Step back.”
She did as he asked and stepped back as Grendel reached up and slowly drew the small dagger out by its hilt and dropped it in the dirt.
“Nim. Run.”
His voice was dry and cracked, but he knew she had heard him. Yet she made absolutely no move backward. Fucking stubborn. They were going to discuss that. As soon as she was safe.
And then he saw Grendel falter. An unhealthy sheen broke out over his sneering face, and he began to tremble violently. Grendel swallowed loudly and then clutched his chest, his breath wheezing as he staggered to the side and then sat heavily, looking stunned, as Jos and Garet watched him warily.
Tristan wrapped the chain around his hand and used it to crack his prisoner hard on the back of the head. Dornar fell facedown into the dirt, unconscious.
He glanced at Nim where she stood, pale and trembling, and then back at Grendel as the High Chancellor collapsed onto his side in the middle of the narrow road.
Nim wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as if ridding herself of something rotten, but she never lost her focus on Grendel.
In seconds, Jos and Garet were beside Dornar where he lay unconscious, and he could go to her. In two big strides he reached her, pulled her hard into his arms, and wrapped himself around her. Gods.
Each sawing breath dragged over his broken ribs like fire, but he had never felt anything more wonderful in his life than Nim, safe, pressed against him.
She looked up at him, her voice low as she explained, “Hemlock. On the blade.”
But he was still remembering the horror of seeing her dive out of the tree. “Surely Jos or Garet—”
She cut him off. “I wanted to do it. I had to know that you were safe, but I also needed to make sure that he… was gone.” She looked up at him with wide blue eyes. “He took something from me, that day in my house. And then he took you… I needed to know that I could take it back. And I needed you to know that I would come for you.”
Gods. She was the strongest woman he’d ever met.
Grendel’s lips were blue in his ash-gray face, but Tristan heard him clearly as he glared at Nim and whispered, “This isn’t over. Ballanor will find you—he won’t rest until he does.”
Grendel panted, staring at Nim, struggling for air as he forced out the last words. “He will execute you all. Starting with Lanval. And their deaths will be on your head.”
Nim’s face lost the last remains of any color, but she didn’t falter. She stepped out of his arms and reached down to pick up his grandfather’s dagger. “Fuck you, asshole. It’s your death that’s on my head, not theirs, and I’m perfectly happy that I’m the one who purged you from this world.”
Shewasan avenging angel.
And she was his.
Tristan saw her take in a shaky breath as she wiped the blade clean. She had killed a man. For herself, and the harm Grendel had caused her. But also for him.
His beast rumbled possessively, wanting to be near her, to hold her against him and never let go. But they had to get away before Dornar woke up or the coward that had run away came back with reinforcements.
He felt a flicker of sympathy for Dornar. The lieutenant had been following orders, just as Tristan had done for so many years, and he would certainly be punished for this debacle. But there was nothing they could do about that. Dornar would have to be grateful that they’d let him live.
Nim was shivering more forcefully as they hurried down the dusty road and around a corner. He wasn’t sure how far she could walk after everything she’d been through. And he was even less sure that he could carry her. But his beast would not tolerate her leaning on Jos or Garet.
