by Darby, Brit
As Edwin stumbled and fell to one knee, her blades crossed over his back, shredding his fine robes, scoring a path of pain. He regained his balance and struck out blindly, desperately. He never even touched her, but the edge of her blades continued to make contact until he was standing in his own blood. With one final effort, he flung himself into the air, grasping his sword with both hands, preparing to bring it down into her neck, severing her head.
Cailin brought one sword up to knock his aside, the larger blade slicing the fabric on her arm as she twisted from beneath his charge. The other thrust deep into his ribs and up into his heart, stilling his cry of fury. He was dead before his body hit the ground.
Chapter Thirty-eight
IT TOOK A FULL moment for Cailin to realize that the great hall had gone quiet. She looked around, her gaze falling upon the destruction they had reaped, her swords bloodied from the men she had killed. Including the one who lay in a heap at her feet.
“It is one thing to know how to use a sword, and yet another to kill with it.”
“It seems,” she turned to look at Drake after he spoke, a heaviness weighting her heart, “I have learned how to do both.”
He stepped close and tenderly wiped blood from her cheek, his expression reflecting how that fact saddened him. “I should not have let you come.”
She pulled away from his touch, looked away from the sympathy she saw in his eyes. “It was not your decision to make, but mine. I will live with it.”
Her voice sounded strange, hard, unfeeling to her own ears, matching the numbness that claimed her physically. She had one more thing to do and without a word, walked away. She sensed Drake wanted to follow her, but instead he let her go.
CAILIN ENTERED HER OLD room cautiously, finding the interior dark and quiet. She rummaged about until she located an oil lamp and lit it. Emotion gripped her when she saw her old rag doll, carefully placed in the middle of the small bed, exactly as she had left it years ago. Her mother had not moved or changed anything, perhaps in the hopes of her returning one day.
More memories gripped her as she turned in a slow circle, remembering that fateful day. A fierce Viking bursting into the room, her mother’s brave defiance. There, the spot where her mother fell, there the window ledge where Cailin clung like a leech until Thorvald yanked her down. When she paused, a gasp escaped her. She saw Gunnar in the shadows across the small room, sprawled in a chair, unmoving. His glazed eyes seemed frozen in a blind stare.
Slowly, she moved toward him, uncertainty and fear coursing through her veins, warning her to be wary as she approached. “Gunnar,” she whispered hoarsely, conflicting emotions assaulting her in every direction. When he did not respond, she reached out and touched his face, felt the clammy, cold flesh beneath her fingertips.
“I yet live,” he croaked, making Cailin jump back from him. “But death is certain.”
“Why are you here?”
“The servants said this was your room.” With great effort he turned his head up to look her in the eye, seeing blood on her face. “You’ve won the day? The bishop is dead?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” His eyes closed.
“Tell me, Gunnar,” Cailin waited for another twitch to ensure she did not speak to the dead. “What brought you to this end?”
A long moment passed and tears rolled down his pale cheeks to disappear into his beard. His breathing was so shallow she thought each might be his last. Gaunt, tortured eyes opened again. “My love for you.”
His claim angered Cailin and her blood fired. “Love? No, I refuse to believe you know what it is to love anyone. You know only obsession, hate and betrayal. There is no love inside you. Your death is your own doing.”
Gunnar tried to stand, struggling to pull his sword from its scabbard. Gasping, he said, “I would die a warrior’s death, not on my knees as poison cripples me.”
Cailin could not bring herself to offer a helping hand. Anger still ruled her. “How dare you speak of honor. Did you once give thought to how my father was to leave this world? As you plotted his murder and betrayed him to accomplish it?”
Exhausted by the simple exertion, Gunnar collapsed back onto the chair, weak as a newborn pup. He now held his sword in hand, but the mere weight of it was too much for him to lift. “Then hasten me to my grave, woman, and have your revenge.”
Again, he renewed his attempt to raise the sword, managing to place the tip where a single, upward thrust would pierce his heart. He hadn’t the strength to even push it through his tunic, his hands shook so hard he nearly lost his grip on the hilt. “Help me, Cailin. Help me on my way to Valhalla.”
Cailin stepped in front of him and placed her hand over his, staring into eyes begging her to end his agony. She leaned close, her lips brushing his ear.
“You are niðingr, a coward,” she hissed. “The gates of Valhalla are forever barred to you. No, Gunnar, the Valkyries will not be coming for you. Only Thyra awaits you in that underworld of fire and ice.”
She pried his fingers from the sword and tossed it away. It clattered and clanged on the stone floor, sliding to a halt as it struck a booted foot.
Cailin saw Thorvald standing in the doorway to the room: dirty, haggard and worn, but alive.
“Fadir,” Cailin whispered, but did not move. She did not run into open arms; he did not offer them. They simply stared at one another.
IT WAS THORVALD WHO broke the awkward silence and spoke. “I have spent the past months thinking of you and all the things I never told you, Cailin. Now that I stand here, facing you, I find myself at a loss for words.”
“I expect nothing from you. Do not feel that anything must change between us.”
Thorvald looked confused. “Why did you come to my aid then?”
It was a simple question, yet she hesitated. “I thought it was for Hulda’s sake, but now, I’m not sure I know why.”
Her father grunted, as if accepting her painfully honest reply. Then he asked, “Do you hate me so much?”
“I do not hate you, Fadir. I—” Cailin stopped, glanced away and swallowed, the rush of emotion briefly stealing her voice. “I have never hated you.”
“No,” he conceded. “Even when I stole you away from your mother’s arms in this very room, from your brother and your rightful home, you did not hate me.”
She said nothing in reply.
“Do you think—?” Thorvald’s voice faltered, cracking from the feelings he struggled to express. “Is it possible that you can forgive me?”
His heartfelt question made Cailin look closer at him, and the sadness she saw on his face made her breath catch.
Her throat constricted and she had to swallow again to relieve the tightness. But the pain her hesitation caused, reflected upon his face, made her go silent.
Thorvald looked past Cailin, nodding towards Gunnar. “It would be a kindness to end his misery, daughter.”
“Gunnar is not long for this world, and I will not be the one to take his life. He does not deserve a quick death, much less a warrior’s end.”
“You are angry with him. It is understandable.”
She looked at Thorvald in surprise. “Understandable? He betrayed you! Why do you not kill him yourself?”
“We men live in an age where we take what we want. Gunnar tried to do that. He is not so different than me when I was younger and forced your mother to my furs. Gunnar’s mistake was that he did not consider what you wanted. It has cost him his life.”
“Do you hear that, Gunnar?” Cailin looked back at the man they spoke of, still in the chair, unable to move, unable to die. “He almost sounds proud of you. What kind of cocked-up world is it that he still sees you as more of a son, than me as a daughter?”
Gunnar’s glazed eyes looked from her to Thorvald, then he blinked. “Even I can see what you cannot.”
In a blind fury, Cailin ran to Gunnar and shoved his chest with her open hands. “You see nothing. Nothing!”
Why she was yelli
ng, she didn’t know. She was angrier than she had ever felt before. Angry at Thorvald, for all the years he gave her no affection. At Gunnar for thinking he could just remove any obstacle that kept him from claiming her, never considering she had her own free will. Furious remembering Prince Oleg’s imprisonment. Hurt remembering the fear in John Fetherstone’s eyes, when she wanted only to be loved by him as he had Lachlan. Tears filled her eyes and spilled upon her cheeks in a torrent of pain and agony.
“You had no right,” she cried as she hit Gunnar again, though this time it was without strength. “No right!”
Thorvald pulled Cailin away and she sank to the floor, weeping. All those years, all those tears held back were now shed in one waterfall of keening agony. He laid his hand upon Gunnar’s sagging head, feeling the rise and fall of his chest so shallow, so slow, until it stopped and moved no more.
Thorvald nodded grimly, satisfied, then turned and departed the room, leaving Gunnar dead and Cailin crying.
Chapter Thirty-nine
DRAKE NEARLY COLLIDED WITH Thorvald as he came around the corner, searching for Cailin. “Have you seen Cailin?” he demanded, harsher than intended. Thorvald said nothing at first, his gaze studying Drake intensely.
“Who are you to ask?”
Realizing his tone was out of line, Drake started again. “I am Cailin’s husband.”
Thorvald’s eyebrows rose. “Husband? My daughter said nothing about a husband.”
“You’ve spoken to her … is she all right?”
“I’m not sure. Perhaps you’d best go see.”
His tone, the sadness in his eyes, told Drake something upsetting had happened between father and daughter. He felt as if he should say something. “Cailin came a long way to find you. I’ve never known anyone as brave as her.”
“Ja, I’ve come to realize what an extraordinary woman she is. Perhaps too late.”
“It’s never too late to tell someone how much they mean to you. I think it would mean a lot to her.”
Another raised brow. But instead of refuting his statement, Thorvald posed a change of subject. “When did you and Cailin marry? I admit being unaware of many things in my daughter’s life, but I don’t recall any interest in marriage. How is it you changed her mind?”
“Let’s just say some Dragons brought us together.”
Of course, Thorvald had no idea what Drake meant and his confused look told him so.
“We will answer all your questions later,” Drake said.
Impatience must have shown in his face for Thorvald stepped aside to let him by.
“She is crying,” Thorvald said.
It was Drake’s turn to be confused. “But—”
In unison, they both finished: “—she never cries.”
“True,” Thorvald smiled a little, as if to offer comfort in the situation. “Yet it seems she has much to cry about.”
Drake wasted no more time and entered the room Thorvald had left. He tensed, seeing Gunnar in a chair and Cailin huddled on the floor, sobbing.
“Cailin.” She did not hear him, so he called out again. “Cailin, are you all right?”
This time she looked up, tears mingling with the blood of earlier battles. It tore at his heart to see her in such misery.
Drake quickly checked to see if Gunnar was alive and assured he was not, he went to Cailin. He knelt down beside her and pulled her into his arms. He cradled her head and held her close as she continued to weep.
Kissing her head, he pushed back the hair clinging to her damp face. He wiped the rivulets of tears from her cheeks. “Shhh,” he whispered, lifting her in his arms to her feet. “It’s all over. Your father is alive, and your mother and brother must be anxious to see you.”
As they backtracked to the main hall, Cailin’s sobbing subsided, with only an occasional sniffle to break the silence.
“You know, all our family is here, together. Perhaps we should marry again. This time in the custom of my people.”
“You do not think our marriage done in the way of the Vik is sufficient?”
“Aye,” Drake said. “’Tis sufficient enough. But I wish to do it again. This time not to save your reputation, or from any feeling of obligation. Just a celebration of you and me and the love we share.”
She laughed a little even through her tears. “A woman would have to be crazy not to accept such a proposal.”
WHEN THEY ENTERED THE great hall, they saw everyone there. Shona flew across the room and flung herself into Drake’s arms.
“Drake! I thought I’d never see you again,” she cried, covering his face with kisses. He was stunned by the young woman before him. Years had passed and Shona had grown up. He remembered a little girl who still played with dolls. Yet here was a woman grown. It made him feel old for a moment, but the joy coursing through him soon made him forget all but their reunion.
Lord Talorcan moved to stand between his children, his own face showing great emotion. Nothing was said, it was unnecessary as Athol simply pulled Drake into his arms in a hard hug.
Cailin moved to stand beside Leo and saw his tears. He quickly wiped them away and mumbled, “’Tis blood in my eye. One of those bastards nearly took my eye out.”
It took every bit of control she possessed not to laugh. With great resolution, she remained serious as she looked at his wound.
“Oww. Bloody hell, Cailin,” Leo grumbled, with a touch of humor. “You’re only making it worse.”
“Stop whining like a baby, Leo. You’ll live, but I’d best stitch it up, lest you get more blood in your eyes.”
This time her smile burst forth unbidden, but genuine. Leo smiled back.
“Cailin.”
Hearing her name she turned and saw her mother but steps away. She had never forgotten Moira’s face, and it seemed to her the woman had not even aged.
“My little girl,” Moira wept, holding her arms open. “I can’t believe my little girl has come home at long last.”
In a split second, Cailin was gathered in her mother’s welcome embrace, squeezed so hard she couldn’t draw a breath. Tears began anew, but this time from happiness. Lachlan stood back, shy, uncertain, but he cried as well. Moira released Cailin and the twins hugged.
“I always knew you would come home, Linny,” Lachlan mumbled against Cailin’s ear. Her tears mingled with his own; she knew she was whole again.
THIS TIME, WHEN THE wedding was held, it was a genuine celebration with friends and family alike. Days had passed, enough for Tynemoor to be cleansed of all darkness. Enough time for strangers to become acquainted, and to bridge the gap of years with words and deeds.
Drake and Cailin completed their vows again, a day after Lachlan’s and Shona’s marriage. Though their commitment to one another was already established, it was a welcome excuse for more merriment and mirth. Leo proudly escorted Nedaxe at the ceremony in the little nave, his feelings clear whenever he glanced at or smiled at his lovely companion.
After the ceremony, they entered the great hall where festive banners greeted the wedding party and the villagers joined the festivities. A roar of joy went up among those present, causing Disir to spread his wings as he sat upon a nearby perch, his shrill caws intersecting the cheers.
Leo looked at the raven, then at the crowd. “I should have eaten that bird when I had the chance.”
Laughter echoed through the hall. Disir took flight and landed upon Leo’s shoulder with another noisy cry, pecking and pulling at his hair. Leo tried to shrug him off. “Go away, you overgrown chicken.” Stubbornly, the bird clung to his shoulder, even when Jagun attempted to shoo him off, too. Clearly Disir had found a new best friend.
Cailin called out to Leo, “I see you have a trio of loyal followers now.” Her glance included Jagun and Nedaxe along with the raven.
Leo flashed a smile and winked. “It’s my irresistible charm. All here have fallen under my spell … save one.”
“Not so,” Cailin said, returning his smile. “It was your laughte
r that first endeared me to you.”
“Cailin,” Drake interrupted their banter. “Don’t encourage Leo. His head is big enough already. He shall be insufferable now.”
Leo objected good-naturedly. “If I might remind you, cousin, it was yours truly who got you two together. You might remember that next time you want to hurl insults.”
Suddenly serious, Drake nodded. “Yes, for the first time one of your silly romantic notions was right. And for that, I am forever grateful.”
“You two were destined to be together. Neither I nor my fancies had anything to do with it. Come,” Leo said, taking Nedaxe by the hand as the musicians struck up a lively beat, “let’s dance, my beautiful girl.” Pausing, he asked the raven still perched on his shoulder, “That is, if you don’t mind?”
Disir cawed as if he understood and hopped onto a surprised Jagun’s shoulder next, allowing the couple to move into the crowd of jubilant dancers.
Cailin stood arm in arm with Drake, watching their family and friends celebrate. It was an exciting time, it felt as if spring had arrived mid-winter. New loves, new lives were budding, branching out all around. Across the great hall Cailin saw Lachlan shyly holding his new bride’s hand, their tender expressions clearly showing how they felt about one another. Cailin was pleased her brother was content with the match.
Again, she thought about the strangeness of life and how hers had come full circle. The adventure that began years ago was now complete. The gods saw fit to bring her and Drake together as destined, despite the odds and hardships. Her gaze fell upon Moira, now chatting with Lachlan and her new daughter-in-law. The happiness on her mother’s face touched Cailin deeply. But the man who stood next to Moira gave her pause.
Thorvald looked proud as he gazed at Lachlan, a rare smile upon his face. It was there for all to see. As if he sensed someone watching him, he searched and found Cailin in the crowd. And in that moment, she thought she glimpsed genuine emotion in his eyes, not just for her brother, but her as well.