Page 127 of Laird of Flint
The door swung open.
The hound immediately snapped and lunged at the two men—Peris and the prior.
The prior cursed.
Peris yelped in panic.
Carenza hauled back with all her might to keep the hound from charging.
The thieves would have exited back the way they came, but suddenly an immense figure filled the doorway. Hew stood glowering at the entrance, brandishing his axe before him.
Unfortunately, Carenza was caught in the backlash.
Peris, more threatened by Troye than a Viking, started kicking at the hound.
The hound caught the physician’s calf between his teeth and began thrashing.
Screaming in pain, the physician wrenched a sconce from the wall and bashed it against the hound’s jaw.
Troye went down with a whimper and was silent.
Carenza cried out. But before she could rush to the poor hound’s side, the prior grabbed her arm and flung her against the wall. The impact sent stars exploding across her vision. Then she felt the cold, hard steel of a blade against her throat.
“Let me go,” the prior said, “or I’ll slit her throat.”
“She’s done nothing,” Hew said tightly. “Your battle is with me.”
“My battle is with anythin’ and anyone who stands in my way,” he corrected, prodding her hard enough with the point of his dagger to draw blood.
She’d just felt the prick when Hew hauled Peris forward by his leine and set the edge of his axe at the physician’s throat.
“A hostage for a hostage,” he bit out.
The physician squealed, rolling his eyes in fear.
But the prior was too concerned for his own survival to care about his accomplice.
“Go on,” he growled. “Kill him.”
Hew was afraid of that. There was no leverage against a rabid animal that was cornered and desperate.
His heart thundered. His breath froze in his chest. The single crimson drop of Carenza’s blood rolling down the blade made him shudder with rage.
But in the end, there was only one thing to do.
Even though it went against his every instinct as a warrior, he couldn’t let harm come to the woman he loved. The woman he intended to wed. The woman who meant the world to him.
He tossed his axe away and released the prior, who sank onto the floor.
“Let her go,” he croaked. “I won’t follow. I give you my word.”
“Nay,” Carenza sobbed in protest.
Hew understood how she felt. It was hard to surrender. To accept injustice. To fight for what was right and still fail.
But some things were more important than winning. Sometimes you had to pick your battles.Amor vincit omniawas more than just the Rivenloch creed. It was a truth. Love was the most powerful force of all.
For one awful instant, Hew feared the prior wasn’t going to let her go after all. He hesitated. His eyes darted around the room. His hand tightened on the grip of his dagger.
