Apollo nodded.
“Lo,” Madeline whispered.
He again ignored her and noted that Frey’s men Ruben and Thaddeus had arrived and Annar, Lund, Oleg and Orion were riding to join their group. He turned his head and saw Laures, Remi, Hans and Alek had also made it. All of the men were still mounted, except Hans, who was close to Loretta, holding her while Meeta tied a strip of fabric she’d torn from her dress around a shoulder wound Loretta had sustained.
At the sight of the maid’s blood, Apollo’s mouth got tight and that burn in his chest came back.
“Get Loretta back to Brunskar,” he ordered Hans.
Hans looked to him and nodded.
“Lo,” Madeleine repeated.
“My mother?” Frey asked over her and Apollo looked to him, knowing the question.
That question being why Apollo was there.
And Frey knew the likely reason.
“She, or your father, Franka or Kristian. They’re all here,” Apollo answered.
This time, Frey’s mouth got tight and his eyes slid to Ruben.
“I want them in the dungeons before night’s end,” he commanded.
Without delay, Ruben, Thad, Annar, Lund and the others whirled their horses, dug their heels in and shot through the smoke.
Apollo heard more horses and turned to see Draven and Gaston arrive.
They’d barely stopped their mounts before Apollo caught Laures’s eyes. “One of you, assist Hans with Loretta and Meeta. The rest, aid Frey’s men.”
Gaston approached Hans and the women. The rest of his men dug their heels in their horses and galloped away.
“Lo!” Maddie wheezed into his throat.
He took the pressure off the back of her head and looked down at her. “Dove, what?”
She tipped her head back. “You’re squeezing the breath out of me.”
His arm around her back relaxed but he did not let her go.
She collapsed into him and pressed her face in his chest.
Seeing her do that, feeling it, he felt a muscle tick in his cheek right before he whistled sharply.
Maddie jumped in his arms and lifted her head but Apollo turned his eyes to the wolf who ran to him and stopped five feet away.
He heard Maddie catch her breath but he spoke to the king of the wolves.
“How many did you lose?”
“Twenty-seven.” He heard in his head as the wolf barked.
Twenty-seven.
Twenty-seven wolves.
Gods damn it.