Aowen’s smile is smooth, practiced. She’s regained at least some of the power she forfeited while drooling over his workman’s attire. “I have spent my days visiting as many of your people as I can. There’s a very real possibility that one day they will be my people, too.” Her voice softens a little. “You should know they speak quite fondly of you, even though you have not deigned to meet with them for?—”
“Donottell me how to run my territory, woman,” Sabre snarls, stepping closer.
“I wouldn’t have to if you’d made any effort to do so yourself,” Aowen parries, not backing down an inch.
Their fangs are bared, their eyes narrow slits, and I honestly cannot tell if they are about to kill or kiss each other.
I anchor my gaze to the floor to hide a delighted grin.
But before a brawl—or a heavy petting session—can begin, hooves clomp up the dirt road leading to the estate, followed by shouting and scuffling from the front yard.
Sabre hurries to the window, then barks out a “Stay inside” to Aowen before he dashes from the room.
Aowen shakes her head. “He really hasn’t the faintest idea who he’s dealing with, does he?”
“None whatsoever,” I chuckle as she and I head downstairs and out the front door.
On the lawn, a young couple, each clutching a wailing child, exit a kelpie-drawn cart being driven by Garred Smythe of all people. He jumps down from the driver’s bench, then brandishes the broadsword I’ve seen him train with at the Eyrie.
Three celestial knights are halfway up the entrance road when Sabre barrels around the manor mounted on Skadi and holding two curved daggers that resemble scythes. Or his horns.
He herds Garred and the family behind him, then notices Aowen and I have come out to help.
“Thought I told you to stay inside,” he grumbles.
Aowen’s only response is to laugh at him.
I’m about to ask Garred what’s happened when the celestial knights square off against Sabre and Skadi. I recognize the beefy blond who led me to the church in Campan’s Vale.
“Step aside, Your Grace,” the knight says. “These people are dangerous criminals. Missed the past four tithes and have illegally journeyed through a luxbridge to escape justice.”
The father, a scholarly-looking man with curly brown hair and glasses, holds his wailing daughter tighter, ready to defend himself before Sabre answers for him.
“I don’t care if they murdered the duke himself. Neither you nor Torvil have any authority in Tír na Dubh. Get the fuck off my property before I feed your entrails to Skadi.”
The knights’ kelpies pull at their bridles, rearing up as Skadi nips at their legs.
Sabre leaps from her back, then swipes his daggers together in a whisper of steel. “Now.”
The blond knight sneers. “His Grace will not forget this insult, Cernunnos.”
“After he loses the Wild Hunt, he can take it up with the new king.”
Skadi lunges, swiping a bony paw at the knight on the left, who screams in a terribly undignified manner before racing away. The two others follow, Sabre’s booming laugh mingling with their clanking retreat.
Aowen must have forgotten herself again, because the fire in her eyes as she stares at him could ignite the damp moors.
I turn to the family, reaching my arms out to the mother—a tall blond woman crying tears of relief—who passes me her young son. He cannot be a day over two. A dangerous criminal, indeed. I soothe and bounce her child to the tune of her thanks.
“You’re safe now,” Aowen proclaims. “Please, come inside and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll ask Cook to put some food out.”
Sabre nods his agreement, not a single breath of protest at Aowen welcoming the family intohishousehold.
The father turns to Sabre, his daughter refusing to release him. “We didn’t know where else to go. They were demanding over half our annual harvest. When we refused, they burned our fields, commandeered our farmhouse. Garred said we could come here, but that we might be early, and?—”
“You need not explain yourself to me, sir,” Sabre interrupts. “You and your family are welcome to stay as long as you need.”
The little girl pulls back from her father’s neck, sniffing away tears as she blinks at Sabre’s horns. Her father puts her down to shake Sabre’s hand. “Thank you, Your Grace. You’ve saved us.”
