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Chapter

Thirty-Seven

Adara

T here was no battle the following morning.

Nor did it come the next day, or the one following.

A dead rat had been left in one of her shoes, Hagan had gotten into a fistfight with one of the Hyrstow men, and someone snuck a dose of something into her food that made Adara throw up for an entire day, but no battle came down from her father.

Adara quickly sank into a routine of tending Grahame’s wounds and trying to make herself small.

She knew those in Hyrtsow were as tempted to kill her as they were to help Grahame.

The outright glares from the men and women were expected.

Grahame, however, had no qualms with telling off whoever got too close to her or Muretta.

He’d also begun to take the first sip of her drink or bite of food so as to avoid further poisoning.

Thankfully, Muretta had a habit of inserting herself wherever was needed.

She helped with washing, cleaning, dragging a reluctant Bhlaine with her to assist with small farming chores at Emma and Branton’s hut.

Though his eyes were wide with worry when he left, Adara’s housemaster returned unharmed and stinking of manure since Branton gave him the job of cleaning up their animal pen.

Hagan and Thor remained close, but after a few days, Grahame ordered them to make use of themselves and help Ridley and Yrsa patrol Hyrstow’s border.

Ridley had them stationed near the western woods, close enough that they couldn’t easily run back to Clayton House without horse, but far enough from the center of town that they didn’t make Hyrstow people uneasy.

At night, Adara’s people slept in the stable.

A week passed before Grahame’s parents’ land was burnt. The men stationed there, Sam and Uthrode, came with the news in the dead of night. Everyone was awake and roaring by the time Ridley and Yrsa were roused in their bedroom at the rear of the hall.

Relief that Ridley had the foresight to move Grahame’s parents beforehand was a feeling that caught in Adara’s throat.

They had been distant yet polite to her, despite their displeasure over the marriage.

While Sam relayed the sight of the burnt fields, Fiona wept quiet tears.

Adara stood near, stoic. While Grahame discussed the fire with Ridley and his father, Adara dared to reach out to pat Fiona’s shoulder.

“My heart overflows with regret that I have brought this fight to your doorstep. I am so sorry,” Adara murmured, sorrow for Hyrstow a gnawing thing inside her chest.

Fiona looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. Dashing a finger beneath her eye to catch a tear, the older woman whispered, “Thank you.”

Disregarding his family’s protests, Grahame struck out with his father and friends at dawn to see what remained.

The homestead had been destroyed. Grahame returned, paler than Adara had ever seen him.

He later described to her the blanket of scorched earth.

She’d hugged him, offering no words, for nothing could be said against the responsibility that stabbed her.

Harold Farmer’s land was next. It lay south of the Shepherds’, near the road to Earl Lachlan’s keep. It was sheer luck that the fire had not spread into the trees that overhung the road south. That morning, most began their day while some remained behind in the hall to strategize.

“Eadric is picking us apart,” Yrsa spat as she threw her bow on the table. “By the time I got to them, they were horsed. I shot one in the leg, but they still rode away.”

Her blonde hair fell in a curtain over her eyes, obscuring her face.

Fury lay in the clench of her jaw. Branton nodded, his huge arms crossed, leather vambraces layered overtop of one another.

He’d been stationed with Yrsa and Hagan as sentries on Hyrstow’s outskirts while Ridley, Sam, and Wilfred watched over Grahame’s land to find out if they could see where the attacks were coming from.

Others from the village were scattered to Hyrstow’s edges, most in groups of two, to watch over and report if the villagers had to flee.

Most families had been moved to the hall so Thor, Adara, Awolf, Paul, and Grahame could protect them.

Ridley would not chance his people’s safety.

“Only two? You’re getting slow in your old age,” Grahame said with a lopsided smile. It warmed Adara’s heart that he had the wherewithal to joke with his friends in such dire circumstances.

“Says the man who choked when I was taken,” she snarked, glaring.

Grahame tossed her a wink. He sat at the table beside Adara, elbows propping him up.

His swollen eye had returned to normal, though it held a mean, greenish tinge.

Adara had worked carefully to change the dressings on his shoulder and side twice per day, and he only winced when he thought others weren’t looking.

Adara licked her healed lip. Though she still limped, remaining in the hall monitoring Grahame had given her foot a chance to rest. The pain in the bones had lessened.

“What if we do the same to them?” Branton asked.

He held his daughter, AEfflead in one arm, his other daughter, Tatswip in the other.

Dark haired AEfflead had demanded he lift her on his return to the hall.

As he scooped her up, Branton had scoured his wife’s pregnant form then gently taken Tatswip from her.

Emma’s tired smile was so full of love, it hurt Adara to look upon.

With a kiss to his cheek, Emma left the hall to bake with another, stern woman.

Guilt for causing the family such distress in her raid burrowed further into Adara’s chest, nestling deep.

“Indeed! Let's burn their fields!” a man named Paul shouted.

He was related to Emma Baker, though Adara could not remember how. Amid the full table, a chorus of cheers rose to the roof. Adara’s gaze sliced to Grahame. He was already staring at her, a casual grin fitting itself along his mouth like a soldier readying for battle.

“Those are my lands you threaten,” Grahame volleyed back.

Paul narrowed keen eyes at her. His balding head shone under the hall’s torches. “Your land does not mean shit if it cannot help us. Just like your little wife.”

Grahame picked up a knife, the movement smooth, lazy. He twirled the handle in his fingers. Green eyes narrowed on Paul, and Grahame’s smile took on the sharpness of the blade in his hand.

“The people in the lands surrounding Guston are mine. They are just as much under attack as we are, but the difference is they have no choice. Earl Eadric has lorded over them. High taxes, brutal claims on their women, cruelty to their livestock.” Grahame slid his ice-cold stare her way for a heartbeat before moving back to Paul.

“My wife has only tried to help them prosper. What you see as retaliation will be a move against those who could rise up to join our fight.”

“They have not yet done so,” Paul said. He spat on the floor, uncrossing then crossing his arms.

“Neither have we. We’re playing defense right now. I’d imagine so are they.”

“Enough squabbling,” Ridley commanded. He stood at the back of the room, stroking his hand over his beard. Adara’s heart stalled when he turned his wolfish eyes on her.

“Lady Clayton. You have been rather quiet. Time to prove your worth.”