do you mean, Elswyth has left? Where has she gone?’ Ellan’s face had grown pale with terror.
Taking gentle hold of her upper arms through the blanket to help soothe her, he kept his voice calm. ‘It seems that she took a horse around midnight and rode north. We only found out a little while ago.’
‘Why would she leave?’ Her eyes were wide as she implored him for answers.
‘You know that she and Osric were close. Rolfe believes that she is heading to Banford. Perhaps to see his family and try to discern why he had been meeting with the Scots for herself.’
‘But you just said that the Scots were seen. What if they come across her? What if...?’ Her lips fell still around the words that she couldn’t seem to bring herself to say. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling out when she closed them. ‘Aevir, they could take her.’
Staring down into her face, twisted with both fear and anguish, he was forced to re-evaluate his initial suspicion about the sisters. For there was no doubt that Ellan’s feelings were real and, if she was so afraid for her sister’s fate at the hands of the Scots, then it must mean that they were her enemies as well. Would she be so afraid if she secretly thought them to be allies? ‘We will find her, Ellan.’
She shook her head fiercely as if that were not enough. Perhaps it wasn’t. ‘You don’t understand. Elswyth is the only person I have. She’s...she’s everything to me. If I lose her, I’ll be al—’ She meant to say alone but she stopped before the word came out, making something in his chest twist painfully. ‘I can’t lose her—’ She broke off and swallowed as if the effort to talk had become too painful. She looked lost and alone as she stared up at him and said, ‘She’s all that I have. Aevir, please find her.’
Aevir couldn’t speak. In her eyes he saw the same disconsolate misery he had felt when he had finally allowed himself to understand that Sefa was gone. He opened his mouth to repeat the unbearable nothings that the people around him had said to him.
It will be fine. You will be fine. You are not alone.
But he couldn’t do it. It had been five years and it was not fine. He was not fine and he feared that he never would be again. Her loss had broken something inside him and he didn’t think that it could be fixed. The ability to make any sort of meaningful connection to another had gone. He had fighting and it was the only thing that got him through life.
He could not bring himself to spew the same nothings to Ellan. Not when he knew that she was alone...or she would be if he couldn’t bring Elswyth back to her.
Taking her face between his palms, he stared into her eyes and said the only thing he could think to say that would bring her a measure of relief. He told her the truth. ‘I vow to you that I will find your sister. I will bring her home.’
To his amazement, belief shone in her eyes. She sniffled before throwing herself against his chest. It was too bad he was wearing the chainmail, because he couldn’t feel her softness or her heat the way he wanted. He hesitated, his fingertips touching a strand of hair that glistened gold in the firelight. Having her goodness so close made him brutally aware of the constant pain he harboured. It throbbed to life inside him as if taunted by the unfulfilled promise of her. The anguish he kept captive jerked against its tether like the great striped feline he’d once seen in a Constantinople market. The cat had paced on its huge paws, lunging at anyone who came near, hurting itself as it pulled against the chain binding it. For one mad instant, he wanted a taste of her joy. Like that feline, the beast inside him wanted to lunge for her and lap up every single drop of joy it could drain from her, heedless of how he would hurt her.
He closed his eyes and briefly held her against him, promising himself that it would be only for a moment. The separation from her would give him time to get control of himself again. If he wasn’t careful, she could slip beneath his defences and that could not happen. Letting her close to him in any way that wasn’t purely physical wasn’t an option. It would only hurt them both.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
The words poured out of her over and over, leaving him humbled with her need. An ache welled in his chest, forcing him to grit his teeth and set her away from him. Taking his sword in hand, he didn’t look back as he strapped it across his back and left the hall.
* * *
Ellan heard nothing of her sister’s fate for several days. The waiting had been nearly unbearable. Each moment had passed with fear for her sister and for Aevir twisting her up inside. Lady Gwendolyn tried to soothe them both by keeping them busy. An accomplished archer and warrior in her own right, Lady Gwendolyn spent the days seeing to the fortress’s defences on the chance that the Scots planned to attack after luring so many warriors from the safety of Alvey’s walls. Ellan was at her side, alternating between practising with a bow and arrow—a skill she feared she would never master—and learning about the finer points of planning for the potential of a battle and siege.
The evenings were spent by the fire where they worked on improving Lady Gwendolyn’s embroidery skills. It was something she was determined to master and the one skill in which Ellan felt she excelled, having taken on so much of her family’s care at a young age. She had also found that Father tended to leave her alone if she was hunched over a cloth instead of being underfoot.
Thank goodness he was not a concern that also weighed on her as she waited for word about Elswyth. On the morning of her sister’s disappearance, Father and Galan had also disappeared. Whether they went to find Elswyth or went somewhere else, she didn’t know. She only hoped that it meant the betrothal wasn’t something she had to worry about now.
She and Lady Gwendolyn were both hunched over a particularly intricate piece of embroidery one evening when the horn sounded from the gate. It meant that someone was approaching. Ellan’s heart paused as she waited for the second blow that would indicate that it was an enemy. It didn’t come. Friends approached. It could very well be Rolfe and Lord Vidar returning with Elswyth!
The wait was interminable, but eventually the door of the hall swung open, letting in a blast of cold air and a handful of Danes she recognised, but not one of them was Rolfe or Aevir.
‘Henrik!’ Lady Gwendolyn’s voice filled the space. ‘You have word?’
The man nodded and rushed over to where she stood with Ellan by the fire. He was younger than the men he was with, perhaps her age or only slightly older, but he seemed to be the one in charge. His hair was reddish in colour. ‘Aye. We came across the Scots and there was a skirmish. A few were killed, the rest fled back to Alba.’
‘Injuries on our side?’
He shook his head. ‘Minimal. The Jarl is at the border ensuring its security, while Rolfe and Aevir head to Banford to question the villagers. He suspects that someone there knows something.’
Unable to keep quiet any longer, Ellan asked, ‘What of Elswyth? Was she found?’
The man’s eyes gentled slightly as his gaze shifted to her. ‘She was found with the Scots, but she is safe. Rolfe took her to Banford.’
‘What do you mean she was found with the Scots?’ She placed her hand over her heart lest it beat its way out of her chest.
‘The bastards came across her as she fled. We were able to get her back. She suffered from the cold, but she was alive and uninjured.’
‘What did they do to her?’ she demanded to know more, but Lady Gwendolyn’s gentle hand on her arm silenced her.
Henrik appeared regretful as he said, ‘I do not know more. I was sent here when Rolfe took her north.’
His knowledge was woefully inadequate. He continued to talk to Lady Gwendolyn with details of the skirmish, but Ellan didn’t hear them. What precisely had happened during Elswyth’s time with the Scots? Had she been ravished by the beasts? Ellan’s mind raced with so many awful possibilities that she nearly fell to her knees.
‘I have to go to her.’