her, allowing himself a brief respite from his crippling concern.
She smelled of rosewater and incense, of panic and tears, and he lapped at the salt of her mouth and shuddered beneath the clutch of her hands. Her breasts were pebbled against his chest, and her limbs were trembling with need. It was not anticipation or desire, though he felt that too.
She was afraid.
“Ghisla,” he soothed, stroking her silken cheek as he softened his kiss, but she shook her head, resisting his comfort and seeking her own. Her hands dug into his hips, urging him to her. And he understood. He gathered her skirts in his hands and found the slick heat of her body beneath them. She shuddered against his mouth, and he urged her onto his bed, freed himself from his breeches, and sank inside her without another word.
She quaked against him, her mouth on his mouth, her chest to his chest, her legs cradling his hips, and for a brief, mindless moment, unparalleled pleasure drenched a month of unbearable strain.
Then the present returned, the tower bells tolled, and their pleasure fled in the face of their fear.
Hod smoothed Ghisla’s skirts and gathered her into his arms. Her heartbeat made love to his, though their time together was gone.
“You must go, my love,” he urged.
“I know.”
“You must gather the daughters and the keepers, bar the temple doors, and leave through the tunnels. You must get off the mount tonight.”
“What of Alba?”
“Ghost must decide if she wants to keep her secret or save her daughter.”
“She told Master Ivo. She told Dagmar. Just now, in the sanctum. Her secret is out. Banruud saw her. She has haunted him all these years. I think he convinced himself she wasn’t . . . real.”
Hod had heard the exchange on the temple steps. He’d heard Banruud’s gasp and smelled the terror that rose on his skin, but he had not known how to interpret it. “He’s shaken. But it will only harden his resolve. He will announce the betrothal tonight, and there will be a wedding in the morning. He thinks the Northmen will leave and his troubles will be averted.”
Ghisla groaned with such pain that he tightened his arms, as if he could protect her from it all. He couldn’t.
“Alba and Bayr . . . He is in love with her. She’s in love with him. They’ve tried to keep it hidden, but . . . I know it’s true.”
“Oh no,” Hod rasped. “This cannot be.”
“The betrothal will destroy them both. She cannot marry the North King.”
“We will get her off the mount. She must go with the daughters,” Hod said, scrambling to process the unraveling of his plans.
“But Hod, what of Bayr? If the Northmen attack, he will fight! He will fight for the mount. He is a chieftain of Saylok. He will fight.”
“I will take care of Bayr,” he vowed, though he didn’t know how. Bayr should be in Dolphys. In ten years he had not come to the mount! “I will protect Bayr. I will guard him with my life.”
“And who will guard you?” Ghisla wailed, her hands clutching his face. For a moment he gave her his mouth, pressing his entreaties into her lips and her skin.
“You must not give up,” he whispered, and her tears began to fall. “Shh. Ghisla. You promised you would not give up on me.”
She groaned again, her teeth grinding, her fists clenched against his chest.
“I will do . . . whatever . . . you say,” she bit out, “but you promise me that I will not have to live without you again.”
He wrapped his hands around hers and drew them to his lips, trying to control the quaking in his chest.
“If you fall . . . I will follow. Do you understand me?” she cried, fierce even as her tears fell unchecked.
“I understand you,” he whispered.
He rose and pulled her from his bed, kissing her mouth and her eyes and wiping her tears. She pushed him away like she could not bear the agony of parting one more time, and when the coast was clear, she fled his room as quickly as she’d come.
“Do not fall, Hod,” she whispered as she ran. “Do not fall.”
He did not fear a fall. He could endure that. He could endure the end. But he could not fail.
27
ATTACKS
The feast was raucous and rowdy, the North King taunting the chieftains and refilling his goblet with abandon. Banruud made no effort to subdue him, though he dismissed Alba