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  “That goes without question, brother, but it will not be necessary. No one dies today,” Arran commanded as if the decision was his to make.

  “I pray you are right,” Royden said. “Though I don’t think you’re going to make it home by nightfall. It looks like Wolf’s warriors are following your orders to move Brynjar off your land.”

  Both men brought their horses to a halt at the sight of the recently abandoned camp.

  “The fire still smolders. They can’t be far,” Arran said and got annoyed that his brother was right. He wouldn’t make it home by nightfall.

  A sharp crack of thunder had Purity bolting up in bed. The dwindling flames in the hearth let her know she had slept longer than she had intended. She stretched and dropped back on the bed. She hoped Arran had settled things with Brynjar and he was on his way home. Brynjar was not a foolish man. He wouldn’t battle with so few men. So why take a chance and kill three men?

  It always came back to that question. Why would Brynjar kill one of Wolf’s warriors, Orvin, and her father? Even if Wolf’s warriors had come upon one of Brynjar’s warriors, there’d be no reason for him to kill the man. He would have been held and Brynjar forced to explain. And how could Brynjar’s warrior kill Orvin in his own cottage? Orvin certainly would have called out for help when the warrior entered his ho—”

  She sprang up in bed. “He knew him. Orvin knew his killer. Did the warrior know his killer? And what of my father?” A chill raced through her, shivering her. Who would the three know and trust without a doubt?

  “The Abbott,” she whispered and shook her head. It couldn’t be him. He had been a warrior at one time, but what reason would he have for killing the three, and he had spoken to her about Raven. He was helping her and the three men who were killed posed no threat to Raven. Then what had happened to him?

  She dropped back on the pillow again. What was she missing? It was there in front of her. Why couldn’t she see it?

  “You’ve come to surrender?” Brynjar asked with a laugh when Arran and Royden entered his campsite and Wolf’s warriors circled the area.

  “Where is he?” Arran demanded as soon as he dismounted.

  Brynjar laughed again. “You’ve lost someone.”

  “I warn you, Brynjar. Don’t play your senseless games with me. The Abbott. Where is he?” Arran demanded more strongly as he walked to stand close to the man.

  Royden kept a distance behind his brother, holding the broken spear wrapped in the bloody robe in his hand.

  Brynjar’s brow wrinkled. “What would I want with the Abbott?”

  “To change his mind about when Purity and I first exchanged vows?” Arran accused.

  Brynjar’s brow shot up. “That is a good idea. I wish I had thought of it, but I didn’t.”

  “Then what is this?” Royden demanded, tossing the robe and spear to the ground beside Brynjar.

  Brynjar appeared perplexed when his glance fell on the bloody robe, then on the spear.

  “You know exactly who that spear belongs to since each of your men carve the symbols they want into their spear handles.”

  “You learned too much about my warriors for the short time you were with me,” Brynjar said. “It could be Rouard’s.”

  “He was left to keep watch and gather information,” Arran said, knowing far more about Brynjar and his tactics than he would want him to.

  “How did you learn so much about my warriors when your time with me was mostly spent held captive in a cage?” Brynjar asked, annoyed.

  “Held captive in a cage with other prisoners,” Arran corrected, “who gladly answered my questions for extra crumbs you fed us.”

  “I’ll have to remember that and see that prisoners get no food,” Brynjar said far too seriously. “Rouard wouldn’t kill the Abbott. He was left to watch and bring me news, nothing more and if anything, Rouard always obeys my orders.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe you?” Arran asked.

  Brynjar stepped closer to Arran, an angry sneer on his face. “I see it in your eyes. You can’t hide it. You want to kill me. It’s in you like it’s in me. I can see it, smell it—you want blood. And that need, that hunger blinds you if you let it—like now. You want so badly for it to be me who killed those men that you ignore all other possibilities.” Laughter replaced his sneer as he stepped away from Arran. “What reason would I have to order those men’s deaths? It would serve no purpose, especially Galvin. He owed me and dead he couldn’t give me what he owed me. Besides,” —he raised his hand with a sharp snap and a bulky warrior stepped forward— “this is Rouard. He arrived here not long before you to alert me to your imminent arrival.”

  Arran glared at the man. “I suppose you’re going to tell me your spear went missing.”

  “It did, and I wouldn’t kill a man of God,” the bulky warrior said.

  Arran was surprised by his serious and sincere tone.

  “Rouard’s right,” Brynjar said, his frustration showing. “Rouard suffered a serious wound in a battle. No one expected him to live. A priest we had captured, who had some healing training, tended him and prayed by his side day and night. Rouard believes his God saved his life and in turn he requested the priest’s life to be spared and he be set free. I obliged him, mostly because I couldn’t have any of my other warriors believing it as well.”

  Arran actually believed both men.

  “You’re looking at the wrong person, Arran,” Brynjar said.

  Arran asked what he should have when Brynjar first arrived. “What are you really doing here, Brynjar?”

  “Finally, you realize there is more to my presence here.” He laughed. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do after all.”

  “I know there is always reason behind what you do. So what reason brought you here to this land?” Arran asked, angry with himself for having missed the obvious.

  “Revenge. A deep-rooted revenge,” Brynjar all but snarled.

  It dawned on Arran then. “Wolf! Your seeking revenge against Wolf.”

  Purity struggled with the endless questions in her head. Why the three men? How would each of them stand in someone’s way? What purpose did their deaths actually serve?

  She got out of bed, slipping on her shoes and grabbing her comb to run through her hair to quickly braid.

  “Forget the why and how and what. Think on the murders themselves,” she advised herself.

  It would take a quick strength to slice a person’s throat, though the warrior would have been the only one who posed a real threat unless surprised. Orvin wasn’t a warrior and would have had no strength to fight and her father certainly had been feeling better but had nowhere near regained his strength. That, once again, pointed to the three men knowing the man who killed them.

  “Think, Purity. Think,” she mumbled.

  The question came suddenly. Who had been the first to find them dead?

  Excited she had a new question that took her to a new path to solving the killings, she hurried out of the room to look for Quiver. A crack of thunder that sounded like it split the earth in two had her stopping when she reached the bottom of the stairs. She shivered and hurried to the Great Hall and stopped upon entering. It was darker than usual, many of the candles unlit and the flames in the hearth low.

  The servants always kept the fire burning brightly, especially with the nights having turned colder, and the candles were kept lit until well after supper. Had she slept longer than she had thought?

  She hurried to the kitchen, her skin crawling with gooseflesh as the shadows felt as if they reached out to touch her. She was shocked to find it empty. It couldn’t be that late. Someone would have woken her for the evening meal. And where was Quiver, Princess, and King? Quiver wouldn’t leave her alone in the keep… unless something happened.

  Quick steps took her to the door in the kitchen and she grabbed a cloak off the peg flinging it around her shoulders before grabbing the latch and giving a yank.

  It wouldn’t bud
ge.

  She tried again and again.

  Something was blocking the latch outside.

  She ran back to the Great Hall, mindless of the shadows that flitted as she passed them, and to the door. Try as she might, she couldn’t get the door open. She stepped back from the door and pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, though hoping she was. It would be easier to escape a dream than being locked in the keep. She ran her hand along the door frame to see if something blocked it. Her hand came upon a metal spike that had been partially jammed so the door couldn’t open. She gave a tug at the protruding end and knew it was useless. It would take more strength than she had to remove it.

  She rested her head against the door wondering how could she get out and get help.

  The answer came suddenly. A window in the solar. If she could reach it, she could get out that way.

  A thought froze her.

  Someone had done this on purpose to trap her. That meant someone was waiting for her. She wasn’t alone.

  She looked around and shivered, the looming shadows reaching out from the corners like long tentacles ready to capture and devour her. She had to get to the solar. She could jam something against the door while she tried to get out the window. She listened to see if she could hear the slightest sound that would give her any indication she was not alone.

  Dead silence.

  There weren’t even enough flames in the hearth to crackle or spit.

  Her heart pounded and her stomach churned and fear began to take hold, almost strangling her. But she couldn’t let anything stop her. She had to stay strong. She had to get to the solar. She took cautious steps, glancing around as she went and after taking only a few steps, she stopped, the corner of her eye catching something. Were the shadows playing tricks on her or did she see something partially under one of the tables?

  Ignore it and get to the safety of the solar, she silently warned herself.

  But her need to know won out and when she came around the table, she gasped.

  Chapter 28

  Purity dropped to her knees. Quiver lay on the floor with a gash to the side of his head and Princess lay nearby, a gash on the side of her head as well. She warned herself to remain calm. She feared touching Quiver and Princess and learning they were dead. They had to be alive.

  Please, God, let them be alive, she silently prayed.

  With apprehension, she reached out and laid a trembling hand on Quiver, checking the throb in his neck as Wren had taught her to, to see if he still lived. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt his neck pulse against her touch. She then turned her attention to Princess and laid a hand to her stomach, tears rushing to her eyes when she felt the dog’s heart beat strongly. They both were alive. She thanked the heavens and quickly pulled her cloak off to tear in strips and tend Quiver and Princess’s wounds. She wrapped the wounds to keep them from bleeding more and until she could see to properly tending them later. Her worry was that they might not wake up like some after suffering a severe blow to the head. She prayed that wouldn’t be so.

  As much as she wanted to escape the keep, she couldn’t bring herself to leave Quiver and Princess. Whoever did this could very well return and finish what he had started. After all, if Quiver had seen the culprit, then he could identify him. She had to find a way to protect them and herself until her husband returned home.

  She sat on the floor beside the two thinking. What if there was more than one person involved? She wouldn’t stand a chance against more than one and what made her think she could stand a chance against one if Quiver and Princess couldn’t?

  Her mind continued to rush with thoughts. Who had the power to lock down the keep without anyone giving thought to such action? And the other question that she had so anxiously wanted to find out… who had been first to find the three bodies?

  She got her answer sooner than expected.

  “You have no choice but to show yourself, Purity.”

  “Are you sure you can trust him?” Royden asked, riding alongside his brother as they left Brynjar’s camp.

  “Not in the least, but what he says makes sense more than anything else,” Arran said. “What Brynjar wanted had nothing to do with me or Purity. It was revenge against a bitter enemy—Wolf. I don’t know what caused the hatred between them, but it more than simmers now and one day will explode.”

  “I don’t understand why you didn’t instruct a small group of Wolf’s men to follow Brynjar to the sea and make sure he leaves this land.”

  “I thought of it, but did you see the way Wolf’s warriors didn’t seem at all concerned with going to confront Brynjar?” Arran asked. “Not a complaint or worried look among them. There isn’t a warrior that has battled or heard of Brynjar who doesn’t fear him… unless—”

  “They knew more of their fellow warriors were in the area ready to fight alongside them,” Royden finished, shaking his head in realization. “Wolf has been keeping watch on Brynjar without anyone knowing it.”

  “Brynjar would have suspected and taken precautions.”

  “But it would have been difficult for his men to move around without being seen, which makes it unlikely that he’s responsible for the three murders or for the Abbott’s disappearance.” He threw out a suggestion. “Could it be the Abbott?”

  “He wasn’t in the area when the warrior died.”

  “How do you know he wasn’t?”

  “I don’t see how he couldn’t have been spotted, and I would have been informed if he’d been seen,” Arran said and his brow quickly narrowed. “I would have been informed.”

  “So you said.”

  Arran shook his head. “I wasn’t told.”

  “You weren’t told what?” Royden asked, seeing the growing concern on his brother’s face.

  “Damn! Damn!! He was right in front of us all this time.” Arran took off as if the devil was chasing him and Royden was right behind him.

  “Freen,” she said, recognizing the voice and remaining crouched down where she was.

  “Come out from there now,” he demanded.

  She suspected he intended to kill her, since it all began to make sense. Her only hope was to somehow stay alive until her husband got here.

  “Why?” she called out.

  Freen laughed. “You think by stalling you give your husband a chance to return and save you.” He laughed again. “He hates Brynjar and foolishly blames him for all that has gone on here. One of them will kill the other tonight and more fighting will ensue because of it. You’re lucky if your husband returns by daybreak if at all. I’m thinking that if Brynjar doesn’t kill your husband, what wounds he inflicts on him will. With a little help from me, of course, just like with your father, though your return spoiled that.”

  “My father?” she asked.

  “Orvin was poisoning him slowly for me and when you returned and took his position away he feared discovery. I couldn’t let that happen. He had to die, as did your father, for my plan to work. I had to contend with him for five long miserable years, then you returned wed to Arran and the promise made to me vanished in an instant.”

  The news that her father had been poison shocked her and had her asking, “What was taken away from you?”

  “The Clan Macara,” he said and Purity cringed when she heard him take a fist to a table and the wood crack. “All of this was to be mine. You were to be my wife and the clan given to me. That was Wolf’s promise to me. But we couldn’t find you. No matter how much we searched we couldn’t find you. Of course, I didn’t plan on having you as a wife for long just as I don’t plan for you to survive much longer tonight. You would have been poisoned as well, then I would have brought the woman I love, who patiently waits for me at our homeland, and wed her.”

  She’d been wise remaining in the woods the last five years and even wiser wedding Arran before returning home.

  “What if Brynjar and Arran don’t fight?” she challenged, hoping her husband might see the truth before it was too
late.

  “Then he’ll return home to find a Northman’s spear in his beloved wife, and Quiver, and your annoying animals dead. I wounded your dog and Quiver just enough for them not to cause me any problems while I found you. Your father never got to suffer like I wanted him to. His death was quick and more painless than I intended. But given the circumstances, I had no choice. You, however, will pay for the misery your father caused me. You will watch me kill that useless archer, your dog, and that annoying cat before your turn comes. Now come out here and get that cat of yours to come to you.”

  King. He hadn’t found King.

  “He may not even be in here,” she said.

  “He’s here. I saw him. Now come out. I want this over. I’ve wasted far too many years here, listening to your father tell me that he would make sure Wolf never got this land and that my kind were nothing more than savages.” Freen laughed. “And what does he do? He goes and marries you to the worst savage of all. I can’t wait to be rid of all of you. Hopefully, one day Wolf will see how unwise it is that his sister remains wed to Royden and he does what he should have done from the start—kill him and wed her to a Northman so that all the surrounding land belongs to us.”

  “Never,” she said.

  “Enough!” he shouted. “I want done with this now.”

  “So you can discover our bodies like you did with Wolf’s warrior and Orvin, though you made certain my father sent you to speak with Orvin so it didn’t appear odd that you found another dead man. Then there was my father. You found him and quite fast and no one gave thought to it.” That’s what she had missed. She hadn’t paid enough attention to the discovery of the murders themselves or she would have realized Freen had been the one to discover all three bodies, something that would have definitely seemed odd to her.

  “I knew you would be a problem as soon as I met you. You weren’t the shy, obedient lass your father spoke of with such disdain. You’re a confident, determined woman that posed far too much danger to me.”