Then I watched him suddenly tense, his torso twisting so he could look to the flaps of the tent and he ordered, “Remain here,” as he turned and walked to them.
I heard a restless commotion that seemed to come from all around before he made it to the flaps and then they were thrown open and Lavinia rushed in followed by Valentine.
Their eyes went to Apollo first (he was a big guy and standing in their way so they would do) then they both looked at me.
“We’re bound,” Valentine hissed, sounding pissed and worried at the same time but looking only pissed.
My body got tight.
“What?” Apollo clipped.
“We are bound,” Lavinia repeated, her eyes moving to Apollo. “The witch is close, she’s bound us. Something is –”
She didn’t finish as shouts were heard, running feet, galloping horses and Apollo turned to me.
“You and the witches, remain here. I will call Frey’s men to your guard,” he ordered then stalked quickly to a table, grabbed his sword in its scabbard and stalked even more quickly out of the tent.
Without word or movement, we all stared at the tent flaps after he left. The sound of shouting, running feet and galloping horses increased significantly within moments of his departure and this gave me a very bad feeling.
“We’re under attack,” I whispered.
“Do you think?” Valentine muttered drolly.
I glared at her; she held my glare and raised her brows.
I tore my eyes away.
Damn, shit, damn, shit, damn, shit, shit, shit.
I looked around Apollo’s tent and saw his war chests, the quiver chockfull of arrows and the bow leaning against the wall of the tent and I dashed to them.
“Finnie, what are you doing?” Lavinia asked.
“Arming myself,” I answered, dropping to my knees and throwing open a chest to rummage inside.
“The Drakkar’s men will –” Lavinia started.
But I cut her off, finding what I needed and pulling it out, I gained my feet while talking. “Frey’s men will put their lives on the line to keep ours safe. That doesn’t mean we can’t help.”
“Seoafin, I don’t think –” Valentine started but I turned to them and interrupted her too while strapping on the loaded knife belt.
“Come quickly to these chests and find a daggers of a size and heft you’re comfortable with. Don’t bother with a belt, just take the dagger,” I finished saying this to two wide-eyed witches as the noises outside grew louder, the increasingly alarmed vibe penetrated the tent and I reached for the quiver to strap it on, commanding, “Now, ladies.”
Lavinia shook her head to shake herself out of her stupor and dashed to the trunk. Valentine stared at me clearly rethinking her show of remorse and not spiriting herself home before her magic was bound again, this time during what was sounding more and more like a battle zone.
“Valentine,” I said warningly as I finished with the strap on the quiver and reached for the bow.
“Merde,” she muttered and stomped forward.
They got their daggers and we all stood by the tent flaps waiting, waiting and then freaking waiting some more for one of Frey’s men to come.
But the noise escalated outside the tent, grunts and clashes of steel, whizzing arrows, male cries of surprise or pain, galloping hooves.
None of it good.
All of it seriously, f**king scary.
Then we all jumped as a sword tore into the side of the tent and slashed through. I turned to the sword, lifting an arm to yank an arrow from my quiver, setting it to the bow and pulling back the string but the sword disappeared and we heard the ring of steel against steel.