Bonded to the Rakian Berserker (Rakian Warrior Mates #3) - Elin Wyn Page 0,28
his speed and strength as he tore through the raiders.
One by one they fell or ran.
Until finally the field was clear.
Only half aware of what he was doing, he picked Esme up, buried his face in the crook of her neck and breathed deeply.
“I’m fine,” she said, wriggling just enough for him to know she wanted to be put down again.
“Give me just a minute,” he asked, and she stilled, fingers clasping his shoulders.
When he looked up next, the fire was well in hand.
“They weren’t trying as hard to kill everyone this time,’’ he said. “They thought it would be a distraction, enough to steal who they wanted.”
“And no one would know,” Esme murmured. “Even if we told the townsfolk about the attack, they would have thought the children died in a fire and we didn’t want to admit it.” She shuddered. “If there was anyone left to say anything.”
He wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I should go see if I can help put some of the caravans back together, he said. “We weren’t exactly delicate about pulling those roofs off.”
Brynlee stood up, the slim body of her daughter wrapped around her torso. “There might be a time for delicacy,” she said, “but this wasn’t it.”
14
Esme watched Gavin as he rejoined the others working to put out the last of the fires. Funny man.
Strange, funny man.
Brynlee shook her head slowly, gaze still riveted on Gavin’s bulk. “Did you see him fighting?” she whispered. “I’ve never seen anyone move that fast.” She pulled her daughter closer, dropped a kiss on the top of Tela’s head. “I’m glad he’s on our side. But are you sure he’s safe to travel with?”
“He just saved us,” Esme snapped. “You and me and your daughter and your clans’ caravans and everything you own. How can you even ask that?”
“Because I was watching him,” Brynlee muttered.
The women didn’t speak of it again, instead they were busy checking over the children, making sure no one was missing in the chaos and confusion.
“It’s safe enough now,” Freya called as she came striding over. “Let’s get back in closer to camp. Nothing good can come from staying out here.”
Carefully shepherded, the cluster of children began to move away, but Esme couldn’t leave the broken bodies littering the paving stones.
Not yet.
“I’ll be there in a moment,” she told Brynlee. “I want to check something, won’t take a minute.”
“Are you sure?” Brynlee said. “I can wait with you.”
“Really, I’ll be right behind you. Get the children back to camp.”
With a reluctant look behind her, Brynlee was dragged away by another child, eager to rejoin his family.
Esme swallowed hard.
There was something Tela. A symbol.
Were these attackers related to the incident earlier in the day?
It would be a coincidence beyond belief if they weren’t.
But maybe there was an easy way to tell for certain.
Esme crouched down over one of the bodies but her hand froze, just above the cuff of the sleeve.
It was one thing to touch the dead of her own clan. Of her family.
That was one last gift she could give them.
These bodies felt different.
The men had oozed with ill will.
Even dead, they felt dirty, corrupt.
She didn’t have to do this.
No one would know.
Except her.
She was being foolish, she chided herself.
With a quick movement she pulled up the sleeve nearly to the elbow and flipped the hand over to examine each side of the forearm in the dim light.
Nothing.
Steeling herself to repeat the repulsive ritual, she grabbed the fabric of the other sleeve, jerked it up again to free the arm for inspection.
Nothing on the back of the wrist.
She flipped the hand over and froze.
Two triangles, their bases flat on a line, with the filled in circle above and between them, like a child’s drawing of the sun between two mountains.
Her stomach tightened, roiled as she looked at the symbol.
There was something about it… Esme rocked back on her heels, thinking.
She forced herself to study the marks as she listened to the shouts of the others as they worked around the camp, righting the caravans, checking over what could be salvaged, what had been destroyed.
There’d be repairs no doubt, some goods would’ve been lost.
But no one died.
No one was taken.
All in all, it was a win, but why did the sight of that childish brand on the dead man’s wrist shriek at her that there had been no victory at all?
Her thoughts circled, but she couldn’t find an answer.