“No, no, no, no,” she chanted, tears filling her eyes.
She examined the wounds to see if pulling out the arrows would help. But even through her tears she knew it was hopeless.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered in his ear.
Kissing his head one more time, Keeley grabbed hold of the ends of two arrows and, after taking a deep breath, she shoved them all the way in and through the stallion’s neck. He thrashed a bit more while Keeley used her body to hold him down, but he soon stopped.
Sobbing, she rested her head against her friend’s body one last time. She knew she had to move. She knew death was coming for her family. Even now she could hear the hooves of warhorses all around, riding toward her family’s farm.
She didn’t have time to wallow in her grief. Especially now . . . with four strangers standing behind her.
Keeley reached for her hammer with a blood-covered hand.
“Now, now, brave girl. None of that,” a male voice said. “Hate to shoot you down before we even have a look at ya.”
She didn’t bother to grab her hammer, but she did wipe the gray stallion’s blood on the head, marking it for revenge, before she got to her feet and faced the men.
They wore surcoats of bright blue, with a jungle cat and swords emblazoned in even brighter gold on the front. One of them held a bow, an arrow already nocked.
“You must be the oldest,” a soldier with short brown hair said. But before Keeley could respond, he quickly added, “Didn’t mean that like it sounded. Just assuming you’re the oldest daughter. The one he didn’t want.”
“Which brother is paying you?” Keeley asked, wiping her still-wet eyes with the backs of her hands.
“Straton.”
“The Devourer.” She smirked. “Of course.”
* * *
Gemma pushed her sisters and brothers toward the back door. The older ones helping the younger. Her mother was behind her, the youngest babe still attached to her breast. But her mother could do with one arm what many couldn’t do with two.
“Everyone out!” she ordered. “Move!”
Gemma yanked the door open just as the front door was kicked in. Her mother facing the intruders.
“Take care of them, Gemma,” she said, before pulling her youngest off her breast and tossing her to one of the older girls. “Go!”
Gemma pushed her screaming siblings out the door and didn’t look back.
* * *
Keran ran through the stables, unbolting the latches and swinging the gates open. With a yell, she set the horses running out the doors at the front, back, and sides of the building.
She stopped at the last stall, expecting to see the Amichais still there but they were gone. Not even their travel bags remained. She’d been hoping the warriors would help them fight, at least until the children were safe.
Disappointed, Keran ran back toward the front. She passed the boy who’d given them warning.
“You!” she barked at him. “Come with—”
The fist slammed into her face as soon as she’d made it out of the stables, flipping her head-over-ass into the dirt.
* * *
With her children out of the house, Emma faced the men who’d stormed into her home. She didn’t bother fixing her clothes. Her right breast was exposed, milk still dripping from where she’d pulled off her hungry baby.
Slowly, making sure she kept their attention, she took a step back. Then another. Attempting to move around the large table where her family ate every day.
One of the men smiled at her. “Don’t worry, luv. You’ll live long enough to see all your children die.”
* * *
Gemma started to lead the children straight into the woods behind the house, but she quickly realized troops were coming from that direction. So she turned them west. The lake was big and it would force the troops to go around it to get to the farm.
“Come. Quick,” she urged.
“What about Mum?” she heard one of them ask.
“She’ll be—”
Gemma stopped, held her arms out to halt the children. Then she motioned them behind her, away from the riders she faced.
“Please,” she said to the armed men on horseback. It seemed they’d been sitting there, waiting for them. “They’re just children.”
“We have our orders.”
“I’m begging you, in the name of goodness. Don’t do this.”
Two men dismounted from their horses and walked toward her. She moved back, hoping they would stop. They didn’t.
“Please,” she asked again. “Don’t do this.”
Finally, they did stop, but the way they smiled at her