Page 48

Einar was a fool. He should have gone to the Shetlands right away. The islands lay farther north from the Orkneys and Bretland, and therefore, were less likely to be controlled by anyone. Einar had not even touched them yet. He would not be surprised if the islands swarmed with outlaws and bands other than Thorir’s.

Now the island with the farm lay ahead. Einar’s ship, Sea Bear, which Thorir had stolen, was docked at the jetty.

“Faster!” Einar barked, and the men pressed on the oars. People on the island ran, preparing to fight Einar and his men.

“Let’s get these pieces of shit,” Einar cried. “Find my wife and daughter.”

The ship thumped softly against the jetty. Arrows fell on them like rain, and men put their shields up. Some cried in pain as arrows hit their aims.

But they advanced.

They cut their way through Thorir’s forces, losing men. The outlaws outnumbered them, but they were scraggly and poorly fed compared to Einar’s men. Cries and thumps of iron against wood filled Einar’s ears.

Einar caught one man and held him by the neck. “Where are they, my wife and daughter? Tell me, and I will give you a painless death.”

The man pointed at the main house, and Einar slit his throat like he would a slaughter animal, giving the least suffering he could.

“To the main house!” Einar called. His men advanced.

The door opened widely. Inside, Thorir’s men formed a shieldwall.

Behind it stood Thorir, with Holly and Svanhild.

Holly was bleeding from the head, half her face caked in blood. Einar’s fists clenched, his blood raging for revenge. Svanhild was all right, just scared, her eyes wide. Thorir held a scramasax to the girl’s throat.

Fear prickled Einar like a thousand needles.

“Only you, Einar,” Thorir said, keeping his sword at Svanhild’s throat. “You must come inside alone.”

Einar spat on the ground and looked at his men.

“Keep your ears open. If you hear the slightest distress, if he kills me, come in. You must protect Svanhild and Holly.”

He walked in and the door shut behind him.

* * *

Holly’s heart thumped as she studied Einar in the doorframe, his face and leather armor sprayed with blood, his hair wet, his eyes a promise of death to Thorir. He’d come for them. He’d fought for her and Svanhild. Her prayer to see him again, if only just for a moment, had come true. She hoped it was the enemies’ blood and not his.

Their eyes locked, and in his, she saw pain and fear and hope and tenderness. Everything stood still. An invisible message passed between them. He was here for her—for them—and he wouldn’t let anything happen to them. They had to play together as a team—she had to trust him.

And she did.

Her heart sang, expanded, beat harder and faster against her rib cage.

Unnoticed by anyone, her hand, now free of the chair and the leather strap, went under her apron. She carefully removed the long, thick needle. She kept it under her apron for now and gathered her strength to strike at the right moment.

“Give me back Svanhild and Holly,” Einar said when the door closed behind him.

Thorir chuckled.

“Do you have the gold?”

“Yes. Back at the ship.”

“Gunnar, go check,” Thorir said.

One man left the formation.