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Fiona sank to her knees and screamed as chaos reigned around her. It had all happened so quickly, and there had been nothing she could do to prevent her father from being killed. The life had already drained from his eyes thanks to the lethal blow that Laird Fletcher had given him. She thought she had been prepared. She thought she had been able to defend her family, but now her father had died. She couldn’t lift her gaze from her father’s body lying on the floor. If she told him about the attack, this would have been avoided, her father would have been alive, and maybe the attack would have been prevented.

But nothing mattered anymore. Her father had died.

And she would soon be next.

While beyond her the warriors fought valiantly, defending the clan against the Fletcher attack, Fiona was in danger. Surrounded by enemies, she was vulnerable. Laird Fletcher cackled as blood dripped from his dagger.

“Ye are a monster!” she spat as she fell beside her father.

“Aye, believe that if ye want. I’m just trying tae dae the best for my clan,” he said, and then swung again.

Fiona braced herself for the blow, but it never came. Lotta had thrown herself in front of it and taken the dagger herself. Lotta faded and fell into Fiona’s arms while Laird Fletcher skulked away. The women warriors were doing Fiona proud, but there was only so much they could do. They needed the help of the Vikings…but where were they?

Varrik fought valiantly. He roared and beat his chest as he led his men into battle. They charged the archers and closed the distance, rendering the advantage pointless. They clashed in a vicious and violent battle. Varrik fought like a man possessed. He knew that time was of the essence. This army probably hadn’t been sent to defeat Varrik necessarily, but to delay him and prevent him from reaching the wedding in time. Laird Fletcher had called upon as many men as he possibly could, and they outnumbered the Vikings. The battle was a tough one, and Varrik saw his friends being slaughtered around him. He dared not give the command to retreat because showing their backs to the archers would be sealing their own death warrants, yet the longer they remained here, the more danger Fiona was in. He dreaded to think about what was happening at the wedding.

But then there was a thunder of hooves, and the enemy started to cry out in dismay. Suddenly they were caught between the Vikings and an ally. Varrik smirked. He had sent a messenger toward Emmel, who had been staying in the area visiting his brother. Thankfully he hadn’t returned home to the islands yet; otherwise, it would have taken far too long to get a message to him. Emmel had arrived just in time, and the tide of the battle turned. Varrik cried out to inspire his men, and they fought back the vicious clansmen, and he hoped that he would not be too late to fight for Fiona.

Fiona wasn’t going to die quietly. She held Lotta in her arms and didn’t understand what was happening.

“Why…why did ye dae this?” she cried quietly.

“I thought…I thought he would give me what I wanted. He said he cared for me, like the daughter he never haed. I was always jealous of ye, Fiona. I wanted what ye haed, but I…I realize now that I was wrong. I’m sorry. I’m sae sorry. Please, please forgive me.”

Lotta brought her hands up and clasped Fiona’s hands tightly, with all the strength she could muster in her last breaths. Fiona nodded, and then the light faded from Lotta’s eyes. Warm blood pooled underneath her, staining Fiona’s wedding dress. Darkness entered her heart. She took the dagger away from Lotta’s body and clutched it tightly. Turning, she flashed it at Alec, who remained frozen in place, overwhelmed by the sight of battle even after his father had fled.

“Are ye gaeing tae try and kill me?” Fiona asked.

Alec shook his head and held up his hands. Fiona muttered under her breath and glanced at her family. There would be time for grieving later. She used the dagger to cut away part of her dress to grant herself more freedom of movement, and then she cast a searching gaze across the battlefield. The Vikings had still not arrived, so she assumed they had been ambushed. They could not wait on the Vikings. Her warriors were doing her proud, though, defending the clan against the Fletchers. But there was only so much they could do. The attack had happened so quickly that many of them had been taken by surprise, and the Fletcher clan had the numerical advantage.

Fiona screamed at the top of her lungs as she called for a sword. One was thrown her way, and she entered the fray of battle. Her wedding dress was stained with blood; she looked nothing like a demure bride at all, but she was a warrior, and she was going to defend her clan and avenge her father.

She cut through the battlefield with her sword, twisting and turning like a maelstrom to get to the man who had ordered all of this. She followed his shadow and blinked away sweat from her eyes until she came upon him. The song of steel against steel echoed around her as Laird Fletcher clasped a sword. It trembled in his hands, and his eyes were filled with fear.

“It doesnae matter that ye are here. Ye cannae stop this. I hae started something, and soon ye are gaeing tae come tae yer end. The Vikings will nae help ye now,” he spat.

“I dinnae need the help of the Vikings. Why dae men like ye always assume I need help? Ye killed my da, and ye threatened my clan. Ye are the villain here, and now it’s time for ye tae pay,” she said.

Laird Fletcher made a weak attempt at defending himself, but he would have been the first to admit that his skills were in the areas of the mind rather than the body. Fiona summoned the cold fury inside her and batted away his sword, plunging her tip directly into his black heart. There was a look of shock on his face, as though he couldn’t believe that he was actually going to die, and then he slumped down to the ground, staring up at the sky. She grabbed the sword and left him there, not wanting to waste another moment on a man who had cost her everything.

She ran into battle, seeking to help her companions. The Fletcher clansmen were still fighting, willing to go to the death because of what they had been promised. Alec cowered while Fiona rallied her women. Their swords moved in a flash, and they formed a circle—a circle that was swiftly being beaten back. There were just too many of them. They swarmed like flies. The stench of death hung in the air.

“Dinnae give in!” Fiona cried. “We stand here, taegether, as warriors!”

Then there was a rumble in the air. At first, she thought it was another storm, but the sky was clear. A cloud of dust appeared, and then shadows emerged. Varrik led the charge, and Fiona’s heart was inspired. He looked like a god as he thrust his sword into battle, and suddenly he and Fiona were fighting side by side. He slashed while she ducked, and then he deflected a blow so that she could strike at the enemy. With the reinforcements arriving, the morale of the Fletcher clan quickly diminished, and it wasn’t long before they all threw down their swords in surrender. Sadly, there had been many lives lost.

Fiona, Varrik, and Emmel approached Alec, who was shaking with his hands held above his head.

“It was all my da’s idea, I promise! He said it was gaeing tae work. I never wanted any part of it. All I wanted was tae be married. Please, please dinnae punish me. I dinnae mean any harm. It was all him,” Alec stammered.

Varrik and Emmel turned to Fiona.

“Ye could hae spoken up if ye were truly worried. Alec Fletcher, I am stripping ye of yer title. The Fletcher clan is no more. I’m claiming yer land under the Callan banner. Ye are nothing but a commoner now, and I’ll see that ye are punished appropriately,” she said coldly.

Alec didn’t even try and protest as he was dragged away with the other prisoners.

What had been a wedding had turned into a slaughter. The scene was bathed in blood, and her father and sister lay together, looking oddly peaceful. Fiona bent down and spared a moment to say goodbye.