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“We were fourteen. She was simply Adara back then. Her father had sent her to live with her cousin. We came across one another one day and…she would shepherd with me sometimes. It was just before you and I and Bran went after the men that killed your parents.”

“And?”

Grahame swiped a hand over his mouth as he fixed his gaze on the fire’s dancing flames. He tried to swallow around the pebble in his throat.

“And she was of high station so she went back, was married off.”

“And?” Ridley pressed, leaning forward in his seat.

“And that’s all I knew of her. Until she approached Yrsa and Emma in the woods.”

Ridley straightened, his entire being sharpening.

“You knew it was her?”

“I didn’t know. I suspected. From their description, she had dark hair, was dressed finely, and came from the direction of my land which is the same direction as Guston.

Adara would have known the terrain from the time we spent together.

Then Emma saw the same woman when Hyrstow was ransacked and Branton confirmed the bandits had heard the raid on us to be Guston’s revenge. It lined up.”

Ridley drew his thumb over his bottom lip in thought. Grahame wished for a mug of ale but didn’t dare move. Not when he’d failed his chieftain so thoroughly.

“And the letter? What debt does she speak of?”

Grahame’s head shot up, his gaze honing on Ridley. “You don’t know?”

“No. Do you?”

“No! Why would I know?” Grahame spread his hands. He thought, surely, Ridley knew of the debt Adara claimed he owed.

“Because you know the woman who stole my wife!” Ridley shouted. His big hands banged the chair’s armrest.

Grahame closed his eyes. An ache had begun low in his head, one that grew brighter with the knowledge of his friend’s disappointment in him. When he opened them, Ridley had settled back in his chair, hands steepled against his mouth. Words of excuse drenched Grahame’s tongue.

“I swear I didn’t know she would do this. I admit to knowing her before. But that is all. We have had no contact since she was sent away. I was devastated to learn she’d had a role in the raid but I thought, perhaps, her husband ordered it. He had been sick, and I didn’t expect a woman to…”

“He’d been sick?”

Grahame gulped. He’d not intended to reveal how he had kept track of Adara over the years. It was to be his secret, his own dastardly embarrassment. He scratched the back of his neck.

“I pay one of the cooks at her keep to keep me abreast of her dealings. She sends word through travellers when she can. We’re on the outside of town, near the territory. Folks were too happy to stop to relay a simple message for payment.”

Ridley arched a brow, a look of incredulity written on his face.

“How long have you been doing that ?”

Grahame ran his hand over his head then down the front of his warming face, wishing he didn’t sound like such a meddlesome bastard. The words out loud painted him as a madman, one unable to accept the marriage of a woman he knew in his youth.

“A few years. My Pa, he sold some wool to a man that told us his wife worked at Clayton House. After they supped, I followed him outside to ask after Lady Clayton. The man must have been smarter than I because he proposed the deal. I took it. Eventually he died, but his wife kept up the messages, sending them when she could. I sent back payment, at first having no idea how it would even get to her. It must have.” Grahame shrugged, wishing the motion would loosen his shoulders.

Ridley leaned forward, elbows to his knees, his gaze locked on Grahame. He waited.

“The Adara I knew wouldn’t do this, Rid.

I have no idea why she’s running around the countryside, taking women.

Especially women like Yrsa who can defend themselves.

It was a shock for me to see her today with Yrsa’s knife on her, then for Yrsa to go with her…

it does not make sense. I’m as confused as you. ”

Grahame’s voice hollowed out. Coming upon the women, seeing Yrsa’s blade on Adara, had frozen Grahame to the spot. It was all he could do to remain rooted rather than obey the part of him that screamed to lurch forward, to steal Yrsa’s knife away from Adara’s throat.

Ridley leaned back, his lips forming a line as he thought over Grahame’s confession. Finally, he said, “You love her?”

“Who? Yrsa? Of course. Lady Wolf has grown to be a sister to me. I want her back.”

Ridley shook his head with an upraised hand. “Clayton. You had a bond with her when you were a young man. You are calling her Adara, for Christ’s sake. You kept abreast of her dealings.”

The shaking of Grahame’s head had Ridley halting his speech. There may have been a time when he would have devoured Adara’s affection whole but that time had passed. He had simply been shocked to see her.

“No, Rid.” Grahame offered his friend a crooked smile. “As you all say, I love women. I have heard her husband is an old prick and her father worse. I wanted to check up on her.”

Branton’s entrance into the hall forced Grahame’s mouth closed.

He could tell himself all the lies he wanted, but Ridley only stared at him as if he were a stranger.

His golden eyes tracked Grahame, as if he were little more than a traitor.

It was more than Grahame could bear without Branton’s scorn added to the pile.

He cowered in his seat, locking his gaze on his hands.

“The village is still secure. No raiders,” Branton said. He thumbed the top of his hatchet where it was slung into his belt as he came to stand between their chairs. His scowl laid heavy within his beard. If he and Ridley were to have a brooding contest, Grahame knew who would win.

“Thank you,” Ridley nodded. Grahame wished he was on the other end of those words rather than sitting square on the side of Ridley’s ire.

Ridley briefly filled Branton in on what Grahame had told him, to which Branton responded with surprise.

Grahame didn’t bother telling Rid that Bran knew some of it already.

He didn’t need to stir up discord between the two friends.

He was used to being on the blunt end of things between the three of them.

Younger by two years, Grahame sowed his wild oats when he could, and had more wealth than both.

No matter their bond, those things kept him a bit separate no matter how desperately he wished it not to be so.

When finished, Ridley turned back to Grahame.

“I need you to get word to the cook right away. She needs to watch out for Yrsa. I’ve dispatched two heralds, one to the Clayton keep and one to Lachlan. So help me, I will bring war to Bernira’s doorstep if Yrsa is harmed.”

Grahame lifted his hands in a gesture of helplessness. Raids and spats between villages were one thing, but a war between earldoms another.

“It doesn’t work that way, Rid. She sends me word with travellers when she sees fit. It’s someone different every time since her husband died.”

Ridley stood, shoulders squared, fists flexing as if the motion would keep him steady. He was a man of action and there was nothing to be done. Not until a herald from the Clayton keep was sent their way or Grahame fulfilled the demands in the letter.

The letter.

In it, Adara had said he could be exchanged for Yrsa’s life. A sliver of hope cut through the despair clouding his mind. Grahame jumped from his seat.

“I will go, as ordered.”

Branton’s head snapped in his direction, a question written in his frown.

“Of course, I will go. An exchange for a debt, right? I do not know what debt Clayton speaks of but I will surrender myself for Yrsa.”