“Absolutely not.”
“Daena’s already agreed. She can get close to him. But I can’t send her in there alone.”
“This is a suicide mission. A suicide mission made even less palatable by having to babysit an idiotic, lying woman who is guaranteed to get us killed even faster.”
“Daena got us out of Andred’s camp, Reece. She helped save Keely.”
“By betraying her lover.” His beast’s rumbling growl was loud enough that Tor could probably hear it.
“He wasn’t her lover anymore, he—”
“Yeah,” Reece interrupted, rolling his eyes, “that makes it so much better.”
Tor winced. “Fuck. You know what I mean. Andred is a bastard who used her badly. She’s on our side.”
Reece scowled. “How do you know that? How do you know she won’t turn on you next?”
Tor sighed heavily. “I don’t know. No one knows for sure. But this is our best chance. If you have another idea, by all means, let me know.”
They stared at each other in silence for a long, painful moment, the mugs of ale abandoned between them.
We should do this, his beast suggested.We can watch Andred as well as Daena. The Hawks need us.
“Please, Reece,” Tor said eventually.
Fuck it to hell. Did he have to say please?
Please,his beast added.Anyway, why do you care if it’s a suicide mission… what exactly were we doing that was a better use of our life?
Reece ignored his beast’s insulting commentary and took a sip of the ale, grimacing at the watery bitterness.
Obviously, there were no better options to suggest. Tor would have thought of this in every possible direction already. He would have come up with something else if he could. Something that didn’t involve the squad’s biggest loser.
Fucking bollocking damnation… He was going to have to do it.
He pushed away the mug of foul ale, already regretting his decision. “Okay, fine. Tell me what you need.”
Epilogue
December
Tor heardKeely before he saw her. Her voice was raised, singing into the wind on the freezing battlements. Her heavy coat was lifted by the swirling drafts, her hair tugged loose from its braid, whipping wildly behind her.
He hardly felt the icy wind or noticed the heavy clouds and threatening rain. Keely was singing, and all was right with the world.
Her gloved hands were pressed against the rough stone as she leaned out, facing the dirty gray waters of the Tamasa. If they could see past that wide river, through the woods and past the miles of fields, lying fallow now for winter, past the moors and dales, and eventually follow the land as it rose up the distant escarpment, they would see the tall mountains of her homeland.
Was that what she thought of when she stood here, facing north?
She looked over her shoulder and saw him walking toward her, and she stopped singing, a wide smile spreading over her face.
Gods. That smile. That vibrant spark that was entirely Keely. Its warmth filled his dark places, gave him everything he had ever needed.
He came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist so that his hands could settle on her belly. It was softly rounded now, still small, but he knew their child was growing there.
It still stunned him that he had the right to hold her. To touch her. To wake up beside her. Gods, he was lucky.
“I thought I’d find you here,” he admitted.
