Then, and only then, could she go home.
Kirstin curled her lip in a snarl, although no sound came from her throat, as she watched Lord Eldred put the naked woman up on the table. She had a beautiful body, lush curves and big breasts. Moraga reclined, wrapping her full thighs around him as he stood between them to enter her. Even this sick, twisted display made her think of and miss Donal and their lovemaking. Her estrus was fading, like the waning moon above their heads, but she still wanted him.
Moraga cried out, arching as Lord Eldred began to move, thrusting hard and fast. He leaned over to kiss her, his chest wound, just a scratch, rubbing against hers. Again, Kirstin smelled their blood, still dripping into the fire from the luminescent silvermoon, and from the open gashes on their torsos.
"Taste me." Moraga brought the man's face down to her breast and Eldred gave a low moan as she rubbed his cheeks over her wound, spreading blood like war paint. Their fingers played in the sticky liquid, and they left bloody fingerprints on one another, wherever they touched or grabbed.
Moraga's fingernails raked over the man's chest, making him hiss and cry out. She opened the wound, which had begun to coagulate, watching rivulets of blood run down his ridged abdomen.
"You witch," he growled, quickly withdrawing. He grabbed her hips and rolled her onto her belly on the table, entering her again, this time from behind. He began to rut into her, deep and hard, grunting with every thrust.
Kirstin cringed, watching the woman licking the curved blade still sitting on the table, cleaning it of their blood. She could plainly see the witch's face, her eyes glittering in the firelight.
"M'Lord," Moraga murmured, putting the knife down and gripping the sides of the table. Her voice came in a staccato, broken by Eldred's pounding thrusts. "We're bein' watched."
Kirstin froze. She was right across from them, at the edge of the woods, but surely, she was in the shadows. The witch couldn't possibly see her!
"I don't care," he sneered, but his gaze moved up from his lover's body to scan the tree line. "You should be used to it by now. Besides, my men have their hands to keep them company, if they want to watch-or they can buggar each other for all I care."
Moraga moved so quickly Kirstin barely saw it happen. One moment she was splayed on the table, helpless on her belly, being plundered by Lord Eldred, and the next she was up. Her nude body was sheened with sweat in the firelight as she stood beside the bewildered man who had been so recently inside of her.
"Look," Moraga hissed, turning Eldred's face in Kirstin's direction. "See."
She can't see me. Kirstin was sure of it. Neither of them could. But the witch sensed something.
And then, so did Kirstin. She caught their scent. Two men-not Geoffrey and William, she knew their smells by now. It had to be Salt and Sedgewick. She didn't know, not for sure, but she wasn't going to stick around to find out.
Lord Eldred made some bird call, signaling with his hands, and she felt them moving in on her, one from each direction, on either side. It scared her that she hadn't heard their approach. She should have been able to track them.
Kirstin froze, paralyzed, hearing a branch crack to her left, the barest rustle of underbrush on her right. She didn't know if they had arrows pointed at her.
She heard an arrow being nocked. Her heart hammered in her chest and she crouched, low to the ground. That's when she saw the silver glint in the moonlight. Her mind didn't want to see it, didn't want to accept that she was watching the curved, silver blade, still stained with blood, spinning in the light of the fire, two feet above the table it had been sitting on.
The witch was whispering something. Incantations. Kirstin couldn't hear the words, but it was clear, Moraga was controlling the blade. Before she knew what was happening, the knife was sailing through the air, all on its own, heading for Kirstin in the woods.
Lord Eldred made that sound again, more signals to his men, but the blade was faster. She knew she couldn't avoid it, although she'd already turned sideways to run along the tree line, thinking she'd take her chances with whatever archer was trying to shoot an arrow at her in the dark.
The blade was enchanted, and it was headed straight for her.
Kirstin went low, as low as she possibly could, nearly flattening herself against the dirt, limbs splayed. The blade was traveling so fast it whistled past her ears. The curved half-moon grazed her fur, and she felt it zing across her back, piercing her flesh. She could smell her own blood, but she didn't have any idea how bad the wound was.
The knife hit a tree somewhere behind her with a sick thunking sound, quivering like a tuning fork. That sound didn't stop, though-in fact, it got worse-and that's when Kirstin realized … the blade was trying to pull itself free. And once it did, the enchanted knife would come for her again. Follow her until it found its mark.
Terrified, Kirstin heard the archer's arrow whistle past her, just as she rolled deeper into the woods, shaking herself to her feet. But it didn't pierce her flesh.
The knife was singing in the tree, its hilt wiggling back and forth like the back end of a fish. Kirstin heard the archer cock another arrow, but she was gone, running faster than she ever had in her life, before he could draw his bow.
9
Lorien was one of the scouts on duty, and Kirstin was relieved to see his big, hulking black form as she neared the edges of the familiar forest. She was exhausted from running. Her sides ached with it. But still, she followed him in with a new burst of speed. Two more scouts caught their scent-must have smelled her urgency-and followed them to the hidden entrance of their mountain den. Lorien growled at the sentry, but the half-wolf, half-man standing guard knew her well. She'd been at the birth of two of his mate's pups.
Once they were free in the tunnels, Kirstin ran again, Lorien loping along beside her, giving her concerned, sidelong glances. She knew he could smell her fear. She could smell it herself. She'd never been so scared in all her life. She meant to head straight for Raife-it was early morning, and he was likely already out in the valley, starting the day's training exercises-but when she heard Sibyl's voice, she stopped.
"Laina, I will not allow it. No! Do not ask me again!" Sibyl cried. The voice came, not from the rooms her banrighinn shared with Raife, but from the one Laina shared with Darrow.
Kirstin stopped at the doorway, nosing the door all the way open, and saw Laina sitting by the fire, nursing her bairn. Garaith waved his chubby fist in the air, kicking his bare feet, suckling happily. Sibyl sat opposite them in a chair of her own, and she glanced up as Kirstin appeared at the entrance.
"Yes, Lorien?" Sibyl asked, glancing down at Kirstin, and for a moment, she saw her banrighinn didn't recognize her. But Laina did.
"Kirstin!" Laina cried, jumping up, her nipple popping out of a very unhappy Garaith's mouth. She quickly gave the protesting baby to Sibyl, covering herself as she rushed toward her sister-wolf. Laina grabbed a blanket off the bed, wrapping Kirstin in it as she began to change. She hadn't tried, not since her estrus, but it wasn't any more difficult than ever before.
"Thank you, Lorien." Sibyl smiled at the dark wolf who stood behind them. "We'll take it from here."
He gave a short bark and a whine, but then turned, and headed back toward the tunnel entrance. Back to sentry duty, no doubt, Kirstin thought. She'd have to thank him later, for bringing her in. If she got the opportunity. She shivered at that thought, putting her newly formed arms around Laina and letting her help her stand.
"You're a mess." Sibyl bounced the hungry Garaith on her hip, trying to quiet him. "Are you hurt? Is that dried blood?"
Kirstin glanced behind her, where the blanket had dropped low on her back, and saw where the blade had streaked across her skin.
"Aye." She had her voice back. What a relief that was! "Sibyl, ye hafta t'take me t'Raife. They're coming. They're goin' t'kill us all."
"Who? What?" Sibyl put the baby up over her shoulder, patting his back.
"Lord Eldred's a traitor to the king," Kirstin accepted the long shirt Laina put over her head. "He plans t'use some sorta witchcraft t'compel t'wulver army t'take t'English throne. I heard 'im. And I saw 'er. The witch."
She shuddered at the memory.
"You're not making any sense." Sibyl handed Laina the baby, who was happy to be back with his mother. "Witchcraft? Kirstin, why are you here? I thought, you and Donal-"
The mention of his name made Kirstin burst into tears. She was exhausted, panicked, grief-stricken, and so afraid, she wasn't sure anymore which way was up. For all she knew, she'd been tracked to the wulver den. She didn't think so-and the scouts were always watching-but she'd been in such a hurry to get home. She couldn't be sure. And, mayhaps, Sedgewick and Salt had already found the den. Mayhaps they were following, even now.