Page 100 of Alliance Bride
As Erik turned to mount, Ranvi caught Aevar’s eye, her expression somber.
“One of them grabbed Trygg,” she said. “They were going to kill him if Eadlyn didn’t surrender. She gave herself up willingly.”
Aevar looked at the boy. Pressure choked his throat, and his vision blurred. She had sacrificed herself for Trygg. Just as she had once sacrificed herself for her people. His brave, selfless wife.
A hand gripped his arm. He turned to find Móthir beside him. She pulled him into a fierce embrace. “Youwillget her back.”
He nodded against her shoulder, unable to speak, but he had to believe it.
Hewouldbelieve it.
With final goodbyes exchanged, they mounted again, this time with several more riders in tow. At the village’s edge, Jorund waited, his dark braids matching the color of the winding tattoos across his forehead. Some said he could track a bird through the sky. Exaggeration or not, Aevar was willing to believe it. They needed every bit of the man’s skill, real or imagined.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Nightwasfalling.Thewarm light of the sun dimmed above the treetops, giving way to the long shadows of dusk. They crept between the trees, pooling beneath ferns and wrapping around the narrow game trail the riders followed. Eadlyn craned her neck for the hundredth time, scanning the forest behind her, willing Aevar to appear. To hear the pounding of hooves. To see the flash of a sword raised in fury.
But the path remained empty and quiet. Only the thud of the horse beneath her, and the soft jingle of tack from the others. Her hands, bound at the wrists with rough rope, ached from the pressure. The cord bit into her skin with every jostling movement, and her arms had gone half-numb. Sweat clung to the hollow of her back, but it cooled now in the evening air, sending shivers through her body.
Lord, please bring rescue.
She had whispered the same plea so many times it had worn thin. It continued to beat in her heart, tethering her to hope, but with every fading glimmer of daylight, hopelessness sank deeper.What if they didn’t find her? The forest was vast, and her captors had made careful efforts to hide their trail, doubling back, crossing creeks, and weaving through thickets and rocky plateaus.
She glanced to her left where Sig rode beside her, slouched comfortably in the saddle and unbothered by the weight of the day. But his attention had been on her all afternoon. Measuring her. Waiting. She turned away, bile rising in her throat. Her whole body tensed with the certainty that the moment they stopped, he would make his move.
She looked to her right for an escape, but found only thick, tangled brush. Nowhere to run. Even if her hands were free and she had control of the horse’s reins, she’d crash headlong into roots and undergrowth.
All too soon, the woman—Asfrid, she had learned—drew to a halt. They had reached a patch of open earth beneath a cluster of firs where the ground sloped toward a stream. The canopy above hung like a thick curtain, blotting out most of the sun’s last light.
She turned to them, tall and broad-shouldered for a woman. Clearly a warrior like Heida. She addressed Sig and the other man, Dagr, in Nordric. “We should camp here tonight.”
Eadlyn’s heart pounded harder. The moment she’d been dreading. Sig dismounted first. She braced herself, but a tremble ran through her limbs as he stalked toward her. His hand clamped around her arm and yanked her from the saddle. She hit the ground unsteadily, and he pinned her against him.
“Aevar’s not around to interrupt this time.” His sour breath hit her in the face.
Panic surged. She struggled, and he laughed, but she wouldn’t make this easy for him. The moment he leaned in, she spat in his face.
For a moment, everything froze. Then pain cracked across her cheek. His open palm slapped her so hard she stumbled. Tears sprang up, but she blinked them back and straightened. She’d been hit harder before. She locked eyes with him. No pleading or fear. Just fire.
His brows twitched, something unreadable in his expression. No doubt he’d expected her to cower and cry and beg for mercy. Wanted it. But she refused to give him that. His expression hardened to match hers. He reached for her again, but another hand seized her arm first and wrenched her backward. Eadlyn stumbled again, catching herself as Asfrid dragged her away from Sig’s grasp. The painted warrior woman’s expression was like stone, her black-marked face unreadable.
Sig snarled. “What are you doing?”
Asfrid didn’t even flinch. “My job is to deliver her to Kalgora. Not watch you toy with her.”
“I can do whatever I want.”
“That was not part of your uncle’s orders.”
Sig stepped toward her, puffed with self-importance. “I am his heir. You will do as I command.” He leered now. “Or I’ll take what I want from both of you.”
From somewhere behind Eadlyn, Dagr swore. “That’s my sister you’re talking to.”
He was beside Asfrid in a breath, his face flinty.
Sig sneered. “Then maybe you should teach her to obey.”
Eadlyn held her breath as they glared at each other. Would Asfrid and her brother decide it wasn’t worth it and let Sig have her? Would they bow to his position and stand aside to let him do whatever he pleased?
