CHAPTER THREE
Vrogul
Thankthe gods the winds picked up enough to raise the sails and we could take turns sleeping throughout the night. My warriors were more at ease now that we were home in familiar waters, and by noon we’d spotted our beloved Islay’s shores.
Unfortunately, ‘twas around this time I realized the fooking hole in my shoulder was becoming inflamed. My entire right arm ached and there were dark lines of infection running along my bicep.
I would survive, as long as Matthias’s potions were waiting for me at Battleborn Village. I just wouldn’t be very comfortable until then.
A few times that morning, I had caught my bonnie captive eyeing my injury, and I wondered if she was feeling smug or worried. Shortly after I cut her free—after I explainedthe foolishness of trying to escape in the middle of the godsdamned ocean, I’d introduced her to my crew as, “Rowena—she’s mine.” To my surprise, only a few of them had teased me about taking her—and about my injury. Far more inclined their heads with respect…both to me and to her.
Mayhap they were as tired as I was.
Still, I slept little, intent on watching over them…and her.
Rowena, whose father had taught her the ways of the blade. I knew little of her, other than that she was dangerous…and I could not seem to leave her behind. MyKteerhad demanded she come with me, and now I wondered if I should have ignored the instinct. Not only was she deadly—and now had every reason to want revenge—but she had likely had a home and a life in that mining village.
I’d destroyed so many lives yesterday.
With a sigh, I scrubbed my hand down my face and nudged Auld Garran awake with my toe. He should be the one to bring us into the bay where the Battleborn watchers waited.
The next few hours were a bit of a blur; or mayhap that was because I was exhausted. There was cheering as we made landfall, aye—from my raiders as well as the clan members lining the shores. They’d brought pack animals and wagons, and we had plenty of help loading our spoils to make the trek to our protected village.
If any of them noticed my flagging steps, they said naught. I did, however, catch curious glances being sent my captive’s way, and heard more than one murmuredconversation. Likely my warriors spreading the news of how Rowena had nearly bested me in battle.
My thinking was too fuzzy—fatigue or infection?—to parse the implications. There’d be a celebration tonight for our safe return, and tomorrow I would consider what to do with Battleborn’s new guest.
I did notice that the more curious—or hostile—gazes turned her way the closer Rowena moved to my side. I hadn’t retied her hands because it felt like an insult to such an opponent, and she’d made no further move to escape once we’d entered orcish waters. And now I was glad for it.
Aye, myKteercrowed when she moved to stand beside me, although I suspected ‘twas no’ an act of fondness. Rather, surely, she was merely uncertain in such strange surroundings and unconsciously turning to the slightly familiar.
I remembered that she’d called mebeastand wondered what she must think to see the full clan surrounding her. Not just my warriors—justifiably feared throughout the Isles—but our females and elders and, aye, even children scampering about.
But when she finally spoke, ‘twas not what I expected.
“Are these humans your captives as well, Stormseeker?”
I blinked, then glanced down at her. Her chin lifted mulishly, her gaze straight ahead as she marched at my side, having to take two strides for every one of mine, despite my exhaustion. It took me a moment to realize who she meant.
“This is my clan, little wildcat. The Battleborn of Islay.Allof them.”
A flash of blue beneath her lashes, as she glanced up at me, then away, stubbornly.
“The humans as well?”
“Aye, the humans as well.”
I lifted my left arm, then decided against touching her, and instead dragged my hand over my braids.
“Some began as captives, others as refugees. Most are now honored Mates, Rowena, with a place and respect here on Islay.”
I could see from the tension in her jaw that she didn’t believe me, but I didn’t have the energy to try to convince her. Besides, we crested the last hill…and there was home.
Our ancestors had built the original village on an island in the middle of a small loch at the center of the valley, but now the buildings had extended around the shores as well. The wooden walkway to the island was still our best means of defense, and kitlings were taught young to rush across it to the heavy stone buildings of the island in case of attack.
Now though?
Now ‘twas time for celebration.
