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The dead silence also came with stares.
His father broke it by slamming down a tankard and shouting, “Long live the lady witch dragon slayer!”
Fionna’s eyes went wide as the room erupted in cheers and more slamming of mugs.
Lady Frieda hastened to Fionna’s side and led her to a seat, the one beside Kormac’s. He leaned over to murmur, “How do you feel?”
“Better. Although I fear I won’t be able to work on Lomar’s curse until tomorrow at least.”
“He can wait a day.”
Only it turned out that was one day too long, because in the wee hours of the morning, just before dawn, a pounding at Kormac’s bed chamber door led to a grim announcement. “Lomar escaped.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The morning proved more chaotic than the previous evening.
Dinner had filled her hungry belly nicely. Despite having openly used magic, most people in attendance appeared glad she’d acted. It made it easy to ignore the few who scowled and muttered.
Sitting beside Kormac had her feeling all too aware of him, though. When his hand accidentally brushed hers when grabbing for the same bread roll. When he shifted his leg and it rubbed against hers. When he’d murmur some naughty tidbit under his breath about someone in attendance. It only enhanced the intimacy growing between them.
It left her out of sorts, tingly, confused. She excused herself early and headed to her room but found herself restless even there, her dreams tormented with thoughts of the warlord. She woke just before dawn, a good thing as it turned out else she might have missed Kormac who prepared to depart in search of Lomar. The possessed man apparently escaped while the citadel slept. Upon hearing the news, she sought out the warlord and found him in the courtyard slinging saddlebags over his stallion’s rump.
“I hear Lomar escaped.”
“He did.” Kormac’s grim reply.
Left unsaid: Two soldiers died and a third suffered grievous injuries. According to the person who’d told her what happened, they’d unchained him because he went into spasms. Fake seizures, as it turned out.
“You’re going after him.” Kind of an obvious thing to point out.
“He’s a danger to anyone in his path.” So was Kormac in his current mood.
“You plan to kill him,” she uttered softly.
“He’s left me no choice.” Said flatly and yet she could sense the torment within him.
“I’m coming with you,” Fionna announced.
“No.” Just a single syllable that brooked no argument.
She still argued. “I can help with Lomar.”
“There is no help for him anymore. Anyone else would have already been executed for their crimes.”
“But it’s not his fault. His body?—”
“Is his body.” He whirled to snap. “His hands wielded the blade he stole. His hands are the ones covered in blood. People aren’t going to care he’s been cursed and isn’t in control. They look at him and see a murderer.”
“If he must die, fine, but you shouldn’t be the one to wield the blow,” she insisted.
“It is my duty.”
Before she could respond, a loud wail drew attention to the entrance of the citadel. His mother emerged in her nightclothes, hair tousled from sleep, hands flailing as she screeched, “Where are you going?”
“You already know the answer to that.” Kormac didn’t pause in his tightening of the straps.
“You can’t leave,” his mother insisted. “What if the dragons return?”
