raw.
“I do not trust the bastard,” one of Eric’s men says.
“Neither do I,” Eric agrees. “The weak bastard would say anything to save his own life.”
“I am already fucking dead,” Danon growls. “You let one snitch escape. But even if you hadn’t, I am done with the fucking clans. If you don’t kill me, my father will when he learns of my actions.”
“What actions?” Eric demands, grabbing a fistful of Danon’s hair when the warrior remains tight-lipped.
Danon only laughs.
“You have punched his head too many times,” another man says, voicing my own opinion. “He is not making a bit of sense.”
A thump on the hall door interrupts proceedings before it is flung open.
“The Ralston king is here,” the warrior at the door announces. “He has brought Baxter and Ross warriors with him!”
“Bind the bastard,” Eric says, nudging his head to the nearest warrior. “Make sure he is put somewhere secure. He can wait until the morrow.”
Outside, darkness has fallen, and we find the pyre ready. The ground vibrates with the thrum of approaching horses, signifying the arrival of Jack.
As the warrior indicated, Jack does not come alone. My wolf prowls restlessly under my skin. We have the numbers. It is time to act.
As Jack joins us, Eric orders the pyre to be lit.
Around the pyre, the Halket clan grieves as the flames rise. Jack talks to Fen, learning the details that have unfolded.
Blood and bone are turned to ashes, rising to the sky and taking the late king to the Mother of All Things.
My wolf does not understand grieving, although the man in me does. My wolf wants to act—we are aligned in this desire.
“Tomorrow,” Eric says as he returns to join us. “We will take the war to them. There can be no more diplomacy. The only words will be those delivered by the sharpened steel of my sword.”
Jack nods. “Tonight would be better,” he boldly proposes.
My wolf stirs that our king skirts disrespect.
Eric turns to face Jack, a scowl on his face.
“They came for your father,” Jack continues. “What else have they come for?”
My heart rate kicks up. My wolf is going nuts.
“Fuck! We have been away all day,” Fen says. “We should question Danon.”
“He is our prisoner,” Eric says.
“We have left our fucking village vulnerable all day,” Fen repeats, voice heating. “They killed your father. What’s to say they have not attacked our home, too?”
Eric’s nostrils flare. Mine is not the only temper rising as this statement settles. My wolf coils, he can sense the tension in Fen, and it amplifies our own.
Jack’s hand settles on Fen’s shoulder, calming him and indirectly calming us both.
“We will question him again,” Eric says. “The Goddess will understand. My father will understand.” Turning, he calls two of his warriors.
But as horses thunder into the village, our heads turn the other way. Our warriors. As they stop before us, a warrior calls, “Hazel and Jessa have been taken!”
My chest feels like it has been placed within a vice. My claws spring, my wolf fights to explode from my skin. The man in me needs to hear what will happen next, and I battle to retain control.
Jaw tight, Eric nods. “We ride!” he calls.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Gage
OUR CLAN IS in a state of chaos. Despite being urged to leave, many villagers remain, gathering fuck knows what. Through the open double doors of the hall, I can see the central square. A confused jumble of bellowed orders and jostling villagers, goats dragged by ropes, cages of chickens, and ragged bundles of possessions… one man is even herding pigs with a stick.
It is a calamity of the highest fucking order.
“Five more have pledged to you,” Pete says as he takes the steps to meet me in the hall.
Warriors have been placed at strategic locations throughout the village. My father has left with a dozen warriors to check on them. Not that it will do us any good. He wanted to negotiate for Danon, but I cannot see that happening now. Riders returned not long ago, informing us that both Halket and Randal are mobilizing, along with support from the Baxters.
He wanted a fucking war. Now he has gotten one.
“What are the numbers now?” I ask.
“Close to half will side with you. More will certainly fold and pledge at signs of trouble.”
Dawn is creeping over the horizon. The attack will come soon. “Are the lasses safe?”
“Aye,” Pete says. “Had them moved to the old lookout lodge with a couple of warriors.” He spits on the dusty wooden