ship.’
Brendan’s gaze turned to Styr, his voice faltering. ‘I didn’t want the woman to be taken by the Danes, so I cut her free. The other man jumped overboard with her, and the rest of us were taken captive.’
‘Did they make it to shore?’
Brendan stared at him, confessing, ‘I don’t know.’
Styr stood without a word and took back his weapons from Terence. He strode from the interior and walked outside, his mind numb with what he’d learned. Though he knew where he wanted to search, he couldn’t be certain if Elena was still there. Weariness pooled within him. He didn’t want to leave Caragh here, but neither did he have the right to take her with him.
He stood outside, staring at the sights and sounds of the city, unsure of what to do now. From behind him, he sensed her standing there. Without turning around, he said, ‘I’m not going to kill him.’
‘Thank you.’ There was an audible sigh, as if she were relieved to hear it.
Styr said nothing more about it. Brendan had made poor decisions, but he’d suffered, too. And if the worst had happened…if Elena was dead…killing the young man wouldn’t bring her back. A heaviness weighed upon him, not knowing what had happened to any of them.
Caragh’s eyes stared straight ahead, while the sunset cast golden streaks across the sky. ‘I believe you’ll find her. The prophetess said she was alive.’
‘I hope so.’ He wanted his wife to be safe and well; there was no question of it. But with every moment he’d spent with Caragh, the differences between them only magnified. Logically, he knew it was best for them to part, to never look upon her face again.
But when her hand slipped within his, he did nothing to push her away. He simply held her warm fingers, while he wished for a moment, that another life could be his.
‘Why are you staying with Ivar?’ he asked. ‘You don’t have to.’
‘I know,’ she murmured. ‘But I wanted to do something for you. You need your men to help you.’
‘And what of your needs?’ He turned, forcing her to face him. Her violet eyes were troubled, her complexion pale. ‘Do you intend to share his bed?’
She lowered her gaze. ‘I don’t know what will happen. He seems to care for me, though he can be proud and stubborn. Like someone else I know.’ Her face softened into a sad smile.
A harsh ache clenched his gut at the thought of her lying in Ivar’s arms. The vision burned him like a fiery brand. ‘Don’t stay with him, if you don’t desire him.’
Her hand moved to touch his heart. ‘What choice do I have, when I can never have the man I do desire?’
He froze, disbelieving what he’d heard. Caragh’s face flushed, but she turned and went back inside, leaving him to stare at the darkening streets.
She desired him. And God help him, he wanted her, too, as dishonourable as it was.
But he could not forget Elena. After all she’d endured, he could never abandon her.
The last of the fading light slipped beneath the horizon, and a strange sense of awareness caught Styr without warning. There were lights in the distance and the flare of torches. Something was wrong.
Warning shouts resounded, and within moments, an acrid scent caught his nostrils.
Smoke.
The fires began to spread, from one house to another, and he threw the door open, ordering his men to arm themselves.
‘They’re setting fire to the houses!’ he shouted to Ivar, and the men poured forth, prepared to defend themselves. In the midst of the panic, he saw the Danes openly attacking.
‘Take Caragh to your ship,’ Styr ordered Ronan and Terence. ‘Get her out of here.’
‘One of us can take her,’ Ronan argued. ‘You’ll need help fighting against them.’
‘I’ll stay and fight,’ Styr said. ‘You need to take her to safety. If the Danes are in the city, their boats will be empty.’
Ronan saw the truth of his words and nodded. Terence shouted to Ivar, but the man had unsheathed his own sword and was charging forwards with the others.
‘Get her out!’ he echoed, and Styr caught only one last look at Caragh, before she disappeared into the night.
Bodies littered the ground, but Ivar’s house remained unscathed. Styr cleaned his sword and thankfully, none of his men had died in the fight.
Ivar had a wound upon his upper arm, but it would heal. ‘Take your men and go after them,’ he commanded.
At Styr’s questioning look, he added, ‘Caragh wants you and always has.’ Nodding towards Onund and the others, he said, ‘Your men helped defend my house. They may take their freedom, so long as you guard her.’
Ivar’s mouth curved in a bitter smile. ‘The only reason she offered to stay was for you. And unless you’re an utter fool, you should claim the woman who loves you. Before the Danes do.’
‘She doesn’t—’
‘Open your damned eyes, Hardrata. Because if you don’t go after her, I will.’
Styr eyed the man, not certain what he was agreeing to. Even so, he didn’t want Caragh here any more. It wasn’t safe.
‘You And I know the Danes,’ Ivar continued. ‘They will build their fires upon the bodies of their enemies. And her brothers aren’t enough to guard her. Go,’ he ordered.
Sheathing his sword, Styr ordered his kinsmen to follow him. They moved through the streets, cutting down any man who dared to attack.
As they moved along the edge of the River Liffey, Styr kept his battleaxe in hand, his eyes searching for a glimpse of Caragh. the deeper he moved into the city, the more he realised Ivar was right. The Danes had slaughtered the Norse and Irish alike, and the fighting hadn’t stopped.
He moved with a purpose, needing to ensure that she was safe.
The sounds of Death surrounded them, mingled with fire and smoke.
Caragh kept her head down while her brothers pushed her through the crowd. She saw women cut down in the streets, the Danes slaughtering anyone who stood in their way.
Terence shoved her through a narrow passageway between houses, ordering, ‘Don’t look. Don’t think. Just run.’
And she did. Her lungs burned, her sides aching as she followed them towards the harbour. But just when she spied the gleaming dark water, a hand snaked around her waist, dragging her back.
A cry escaped her, and Ronan swung hard at the man, his blade biting into a wooden shield. Terence tried to aid
