Beyond a Darkened Shore(49)

He is a Northman, I reminded myself harshly.

I ducked my head and pushed back against his wide chest. “I cannot.”

Desire still burned in his eyes, but he took a step back. “You would deny you want this as much as I?” I could hear the disappointment hidden behind his words.

“I don’t deny it,” I said softly, “but it comes at too high a price.”

He took a step back. “I won’t push you. It’s enough that you continue to trust me.”

I flashed him a smile. “I never said that.”

A hesitant knock sounded from my door and we both turned. “Brother?” Arinbjorn called. “I must speak with you.”

Leif pulled open the door, and Arinbjorn hurried through, his features tense. “The other man has fled. I discovered it just now from a servant.”

Leif tensed. “Did the servant see where he went?”

“Only that he took his warhorse and headed toward the north end of the city.”

“Then we must follow. Arin, ready the horses. I will bring whoever is sober enough to come.”

“I’m sober,” Arin said.

Leif put his arm around his brother. “You must stay here. You have the makings of a great warrior, but that time hasn’t come yet. Ciara and I will track the other and, after defeating it, return here.”

Arin frowned. “I would rather go with you, brother.”

Leif’s expression brooked no argument. “You’re fortunate that I haven’t sent you home with an armed guard. You may remain with our men, but you will not go directly into danger.”

He nodded stiffly, and I shot him a look of sympathy. I knew it was hard at that age to be told you couldn’t fight, and yet I understood why Leif wouldn’t want his brother to face such danger. When I was only a little older than Arin, and my powers had barely manifested, I was riding on the beach when I spotted the sails of a Northman raider. I’d begged Fergus and Conall to let me stay, but they’d dragged me from the shore like a wolf will prevent a young cub from joining the hunt. Luckily, that particular battle had gone no farther than our shores.

Arin might have already learned the basics of fighting, but he wasn’t skilled enough to face these monsters—none of us were. I glanced down at my torn gown, suddenly desperate to change into my own clothing, my familiar armor. I looked up to find Leif watching me.

“I am sorry you cannot have a moment to rest,” he said gently. His eyes fell on my neck, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “Your throat will likely cause you the most pain.”

It was one of many bruises and injuries, but I had long set aside the pain. It would torture me later, when I was at rest, but while I was still active and focused on other things, it was more than bearable. “I’ll be fine.” I took a step back, away from him and away from the concern in his eyes. “I’ll join you in the stables, but first I must change. This gown restricts my movement far too much.”

Arin snickered. “Not in pieces like it is.”

I shooed him away with an answering grin. “Go. Leave me. I’ll join you both soon.”





13





After an affectionate good-bye to Arin, who surprised me by throwing his arms around me for an embrace, Leif and I mounted our warhorses. Leif had somehow acquired a massive chestnut horse, its broad back and powerful shoulders strong enough to carry two men comfortably. I suspected he’d merely helped himself to any in the king’s stable, and if so, it would be only what the king deserved.

Four of Leif’s men had managed to rouse themselves, and after donning chain mail and leather armor, mounted their own borrowed chargers.

Leif brought his horse beside mine, the evening breeze ruffling the silver wolf’s pelt he wore over his shoulders. “Remind Princess Ciara of your names again,” he said to his men. “It’s only right that she should know the names of the men she will fight beside.”

“You already know me,” Gunnarr said with a grin. He was the one who reminded me so much of Conall that I couldn’t help but smile back.

“I am Ulf,” another said in a rumbly voice. He was so large I wondered if his horse would be able to keep up with the rest of us.

Another moved his horse forward. “And I am Olafur. You’ll remember me because I’ll be the one to bring him down—j?tnar or not.” He grinned menacingly, and the others laughed. I smiled because I would remember him more for the dragon tattoo on his neck.

Leif motioned for the young warrior to the right of me to speak. “Eadric,” he said. Both his hair and beard were in elaborate braids. His manner was aloof, as though he was ready to be off and had no time for our introductions. I thought he would prove to be a merciless fighter.

I gave them as graceful a bow as I could from atop Sleipnir. No meaningless platitudes were necessary with this lot; their attention had long since shifted back to Leif.

“We head for the north gate,” Leif said, already urging his horse into a canter.

We followed him through the filthy Dubhlinn streets, an unpleasant tugging sensation growing in my abdomen the closer we got to the gates. With the sun setting, the city was loud, filled with people hurrying to finish the day’s work. Aside from the sound of the horses, our party was grimly silent.

Leif pulled his charger to a stop once we passed through the north gate. “North?” he asked me.