And one of his men killed a man.
Right beside me.
And they didn’t pause, check for pulses, call police or anything.
And they were good at killing. Very good. Remarkably skilled. Unbelievably. They wasted no time, they didn’t hesitate, they didn’t blink and they didn’t even get winded or break a sweat.
They’d done it before. Often.
I started trembling but not with the cold that bit at my cheeks and ears.
It was fear. Pure fear the like I’d never felt in my life.
I closed my eyes tight and my trembling tore through me deeper, turning to shakes.
Frey felt it.
“Wee Finnie, it’s all right,” Frey whispered in my ear, “you’re safe, my winter bride.”
I opened my eyes for two reasons. One, because I saw the remembered and probably never to be forgotten vision of the man’s body jump and his blood flood when Thad unceremoniously yanked his knife out of his neck and two, because I didn’t feel safe.
Not at all.
What I did feel safe was saying that Frey definitely had enemies. Four men had come at him.
Four.
And he’d dispatched them without a thought and left them dead or dying in the snow of a sweet, quiet, winter village that had two awesome waterwheels and he did this without a second glance.
Oh God.
At a gallop and using Frey’s shortcut, we were home in five minutes. Frey took Tyr right to the door, dismounted the minute Tyr came to a stop and hauled me off the horse. He held my hand as he guided me to and through the front door but used my hand to position my back against the wall right at its side.
“Stay here, wee one,” he muttered then I watched blankly as he moved about the room, the bathroom space, he climbed to the loft and down again then moved through the kitchen, out through the backdoor then back through the kitchen.
Then he came to me.
I automatically tipped my head back when he got close and I stood there stupidly as his big hand curled around the side of my neck and his mouth came to my forehead for a light touch.
Then his eyes caught mine.
“I need to stall Tyr and my men will be here soon. I’ll need to speak with them when they arrive. Feed the fires, wee one, I’ll meet you in our bed.”
Then before I could open my mouth to make a noise, he was gone.
I stood against the wall staring into the room. Then I lifted my hands and saw they were shaking, even in the weak light of the dying fires I saw them shaking.
Shaking so bad it was out-of-control.
I closed my eyes tight for a moment before I opened them and wandered to the fire, stoking and feeding it then putting the grate to and turning to the other one. Once finished with the second one, I fed a few logs to the kitchen stove then I took off my boots and, still clothed, I climbed to the loft and fed the fire up there too. Then I lay down on the bed, over the covers, back to the railing and pulled a pillow to my chest and held it tight.
Faster than I would have expected, I heard the front door open and close meaning Frey had come back and my body tensed.
I didn’t know what to do, what to think.
This world might have elves, animals that could talk to you and trees that had glitter bark but it also had men who could take a life without hesitation and without even the barest hint of remorse.
And my husband was one of them.