She turned to the wall of weapons. There were old swords, some richly inlaid with silver, one even sheathed in a pure-gold scabbard. There were spears, a crossbow, a long club that must have been ancient, and dozens of daggers in different lengths and designs. She itched to steal one for herself, but knew the empty space would be noticed immediately. But a dagger might be able to pry open the lock on that coffer in such a way that it would not be noticed, at least for a while.
She took down the smallest dagger, the easiest to work on the lock with, and knelt down in front of the coffer. The lock was not a simple design. In fact, she could find no keyhole on any of its sides.
“’Tis not locked, you know. That is only an ornament you are handling. The chest has no catch. Go on, lift it and see for yourself. My cousin has no need to lock his valuables. He knows no one will steal from him here.”
Kristen turned her head slowly with dread, not recognizing that voice. The dread was gone once her eyes touched on the man’s face. She knew him. She knew those bright light-blue eyes, that height only a few inches taller than her own. She would never forget the sight of this man with sword in hand, and Selig beside him falling to the ground.
“You!” Kristen hissed, jumping to her feet. “You should be dead!”
He took no note of her words. His eyes moved over her, wide with amazement. “God’s breath, Royce’s description of you did not do you justice.”
Likewise, Kristen was not listening to him, either. She would have flown at him in an instant, but she was not so far gone in the tide of rage that washed over her that she was unmindful of her chain. She moved toward him in her slow tread, the chain scraping against the floor, drawing his eyes to it. He winced, seeing the shackles. His obvious compassion had no effect on her. As long as he did not notice the dagger gripped in her fist, she would have him.
She spoke to draw his eyes back to her face. She would be on him in a moment. “I did not ask after you. I assumed you had died, for no one made mention of you.”
“I have been recovering. You very nearly—”
She struck, aiming for his throat. His reflexes were better than she anticipated, however, so she quickly changed direction, slashing beneath the arm he had raised to block her. But he was good, jumping back to avoid the blade. If the dagger were just a little longer, she would have had a clean cut. As it was, she only ripped open his tunic, drawing a thin line of blood. She saw this even as she spun about for momentum to come around for a side attack at his neck.
His left hand caught her wrist, inches away from her target. But he had not so much strength in this hand, and she had thrown her whole body into the slash. The blade continued, drawing blood again, and he could not stop it, only deflect it, bringing her hand down in front of him.
He was a slim man for all his height, nowhere near as strong as Royce. And Kristen had the added strength of revenge goading her. He could not hold on to her wrist with his left hand. She felt his grip slipping, and changed from pulling away to a sharp thrust. The blade half entered his chest, before his right hand came up to help the left, yanking the blade out.
“For God’s sake, wench, cease!”
“When you are dead, Saxon dog!”
With her free hand, she gripped a handful of his hair to pull him off balance. But he turned his body into hers, locking her right arm under his so she could no longer maneuver with it and he was free to pry her fingers off the dagger. She screamed in rage when she felt it slip from her grasp. He made the mistake of letting her go then. Before he could turn back to face her, she locked both hands together and clubbed him with them on his back.
The blow sent him staggering into the hall, where he slammed against the opposite wall. The dagger had fallen on the floor, halfway between them. Krister jumped for it, but the cursed chain tripped up her feet and she lost her balance. Royce’s cousin had turned just as she was falling, and he threw himself at her. The momentum carried them both back into the room, where they landed heavily on the floor.
This would have been the end of Kristen’s fight, if she were a small woman. As it was, Alden thought she was finished. He had fallen on top of her, then gripped a wrist in each hand, holding them by her head. He looked down at her in confusion, and little patience at this point.
“Why?” he demanded. “Royce said you have not been hostile to anyone. Why me?”
“You killed Selig! He will be avenged, by me!”
She threw him to the side, just as the last word was out. In an instant she was on top of him and had his head between her hands. Twice she slammed his head onto the floor before arms circled her chest and lifted her off.
Kristen struggled until the arms tightened, squeezing out her breath, and a voice hissed in her ear, “Be still!”
Oh, unfair! Not him! She could fight anyone but him.
Kristen obeyed the order, sagging back against Royce but still staring down at the man on the floor. In another moment she would have had him dazed enough so she could have gone for another weapon on the wall. This time she would have gotten one that would have done the deed. Why did the Saxon have to come now?
“What in God’s name do you think you were doing, Alden?” Royce demanded.
“Me?” Alden sat up, shaking his head. “Look at me! Does it look as if I was doing aught?”
“Nay, and I will know why! If you tell me a woman has twice bested you, so help me—”
“Have a heart, Royce.” Alden winced. “I have been weak as a babe, and she is not exactly a frail woman. You try wrestling with her and see how you fare.”
“She is but a woman,” Royce muttered contemptuously. So saying, he threw Kristen away from him, a move that was meant to send her flying, but only made her stumble once before she caught herself and tossed her head, glaring at him.
“Just a woman, eh?” Alden shook his head again. “Well, this woman has an uncommon knowledge of weapons, so do not say I did not warn you, though ’twould seem ’tis only me she wants revenge against.”
“Why?”
