Chapter 31

I'm sorry for the year its taken me to upload. I've gotten a new job as a crime scene investigator and that pretty much takes up all of my time now, but I havent forgotten about the story. i hope this is an okay chapter, hopefully I'll be able to post more. if you've stuck around, thank you

I stand in front of my door, arms folded as I hear footsteps lead to the door. When they pause, I knock again. "Markus," I call out. "I know you're awake, I can hear you two." Voices murmur from the other side before the door unlocks to reveal Markus standing there with a wrinkled shirt balled in front of his groin. Moisture still gleams from his tanned skin and he breathes unevenly, trying to catch his breath. Behind him, the woman is sitting up in his small bed holding a sheet to her breasts. Her dark hair is in a tangled mess and she too breathes deeply.

Smirking, I turn my focus back to Markus. "Did you even get any sleep?" I ask, recalling how only hours prior moans of pleasure sounded in the hall. Markus replies with a shrug. "I'll give you two a moment while I wake the others," I say before leaning in, sniffing. "You reek of sex and no, you don't have time for a bath."

Markus raises an arm and takes a whiff of his armpit. "Smells like a successful night to me." Behind him the dark haired woman climbs out of bed revealing her body and scrambles to find her clothes. Turning on my heel I head to Uriah's room and repeat the process, finding he has a busty blond tucked away in his and Nikolas's room.

"Where's Nik?" I ask Uriah who freely walks around his room nude. The blond still sleeps in his bed, softly snoring as her cleavage spills over the blankets.

Uriah gives his brawny shoulders a shrug. "He left earlier to get some more supplies for the road. Said he was tired of listening to the two of us." Fair. "Are the women awake?" I give a nod and tell him that they are getting dressed and would head down for breakfast after.

Heading down the old rickety stairs, the smell of porridge and bacon fills the narrow hall and I remember that the inn provides breakfast. Following the scent, I take a left at the landing and find a medium sized table displaying a large black kettle full of steaming porridge, a long oval plate with bacon, and a loaf of bread. Taking a seat, the inn keeper brings out a pitcher of water and mumbles she doesn't have any milk before disappearing back down the hall. Not waiting for the others I grab a bowl and help myself to the porridge and try to figure out our next course of action. Tomorrow, we should be arriving to the abbey, and I'll have to say goodbye to Claire, possibly for forever. It doesn't sit right leaving things the way they are, and I feel as if there is something between us I need to mend.

As if knowing my thoughts are of her, she along with the other women peer around the corner before sitting down as well. I say greet them good morning and try and hold eye contact with Claire but she seems to be avoiding me. They pray together for their food, thanking God to have blessed them with a roof over their heads for safe travels ahead of us. Minuets of silence tick by as we eat and I'm relieved with the rest of my men come waltz into the room.

"I'm starving," Uriah says, plopping down beside me.

"Aye," Markus says in agreement and sits down by Torva. She wrinkles her nose at him and scoots over an inch. They fix their plates and begin shoveling as much as they can into their mouths.

"You two have fun I take it?" Bastain asks, glancing back and forth between Uriah and Markus.

"You must be deaf if you didn't hear them rutting all night long," Torva murmurs to herself, earning a few giggles from the women. I had forgotten how abrasive she could be.

"Torva..." Claire chastises, looking up through her long dark eyelashes. "It's none of our business." Nik then comes in with a burlap sack full of supplies and cocks an eyebrow, curious as to what he just walked in on.

"It is when I only got an hour of sleep," Torva shoots back before eating a spoonful of porridge.

Uriah gives a snort. "You give us too much credit love. We don't last that long."

Sighing, I shoot him a warning glance. It's too early in the morning for bickering. "Did you fetch the stable hand by chance?" I ask, turning to Nik.

He gives a nod and sets down the sack on the ground before fixing his bun, allowing part of his hair to hang loose. "I did. Said to give him an hour. That was about thirty minutes or so ago. Want me to check?"

Shaking my head, I toss back the last of my bacon and stand. "It's okay. You eat, I'll go. Can you help the women with their bags when you're done?" I ask, looking each of my men in the eye. They agree so I head back up the stairs one last time to grab my bag, slipping a dagger into my waistband. With my free hand I adjust my straps as I head down the rickety stairs and find Claire waiting for me at the bottom of the landing.

"Can I join you?" she asks looking up at me. She has her auburn hair tied back in a braid and dons a dark blue dress. Offering a small smile, I nod and we head outside around back to the stables. The air is damp and cool with sparse gray clouds in the sky, and I hope that we can avoid them if they turn to rain.

"I was hoping we could talk," she begins as we walk down the cobble stone alley. "I don't know how to start though."

When I open my mouth to reply, I hear a loud voice sound from around the corner that grows louder as we approach. Then there is the sound of impact and a cry of pain and my brows furrow. "What now?" I ask out loud and quicken our pace. As the stables come into view, I see the stable hand crumbled over cradling his stomach. Before him are the two Roriks from last night, Falsta and the other brute whose name I did not catch.

Unaware of our presence, Falsta bends down and grabs the boy—who appears to be no older than twelve—by the scruff of his neck. "I don't care who they belong to," Falsta spits, then pulls out a dagger and yanks the boy up to his feet. Showing him the blade, the boys eyes widen in fear and opens his mouth to scream for help, but the other brute knees him in the stomach knocking out his wind.

"Lay another finger on him and you'll lose the hand," I say, walking up to meet them. I hear Claire following close behind me.

Falsta's head jerks up and he grins devilishly as if happy it's me that has come the boy's rescue.

"Playing hero for your whore again, are we? I don't think-" he begins, but I cut him off.

"She's not a whore. Speak ill of her again and I'll carve out our tongue and feed it to the pigs," I say evenly.

The two Roriks laugh and the heavier one speaks up. "Full of threats so early in the morning I see. Tell me, is that common in Paevia? I know we may be mannerless brutes, but perhaps you lot in your keep are even worse." His eyes are bloodshot and unfocused, and I can tell he's still drunk from the night before. Falsta on the other hand looks rather sober as his clear eyes focus on my own.

Stepping forward, I fold my arms across my chest. "Not threats. Promises." I then glance at the boy "Would you run inside and let my mates know to pay you for doing such a great job at guarding our horses?" I ask kindly, offering a smile. Still hunched over, his eyes shift back and forth between us and the Roriks before he skitters off down the alley.

"I should've known you'd need your little friends," Falsta says. He then collects spit before hocking it onto my boots.

"I'll be done with you two by the time the boy even reaches them," I say in a low voice. "I'll give you two options. You can leave and crawl back to the shit hole you came from, or you can die outside of horse stables."

Falsta grimaces and draws his blade. "You ready to go to war again so soon, boy?"

Taking a breath, I turn my head to Claire. "Go inside," I command her, not wanting her to see any more violence—especially at my hands.

"I'm not going anywhere," she retorts shakily.

Falsta and the other brute belts out another laugh at Claire's defiance. "Looks like she wants to stay," the heavier brute says, taking a step forward to me as well and draws his blade.

Claire places a small hand on my shoulder. "Don't. They are not worth it, Thomas. Let's just get the horses and leave."

"What makes you think we plan on letting you lot leave?" Falsta asks, flashing his teeth.

Inhaling through my nose, I assess the situation. I could kill them here and now and risk another war as well as exposing to Claire to more horrors—which she's had a fair share of these last few months. Or, I can try and use my words to get us out of this situation. Then again if I killed them that's two less slavers in the world. Wouldn't I be saving lives by taking two?

The heavier brute gives a sniff. "How about we give you two options. We take your whore back with us a-"

At this, I pull my dagger out from my waistband and leap forward, ducking under Falsta's shortsword. Gripping the hilt of my dagger, I ram it upwards underneath the brute's chin. It pierces first flesh, then bone as I drive it through the roof of his mouth finding it's final resting place in his brain. He doesn't even get the chance to scream before he drops to the ground, his blade along with him. In a flash, my fingers grip the hilt and I turn to face Falsta. "I'll cut his tongue out after I'm done with you."

Falsta's dark eyes grow wide and he raises his hands, dropping his sword in the mud. "I take back what I said. We'll go back to Rorik and that'll be the end of it. I swear, you have my word!" He then looks at Claire and claps his hands together, begging. "Please! Don't let him butcher us! I'm sorry!" I've known men to beg for their lives, but so soon? You'd have thought a savage like Falsta would've taken longer.

I scoff. "Don't look at her—look at me," I say, glaring down at him. "You word doesn't mean a rat's ass to me. I know your kind. Your people. You'll run right to your cousin Santiago and demand some sort of vengeance." With that, I raise the sword I picked up, ready to bring it down on his head. My injured disagrees as pain runs up my arm. I'm not used to holding a blade with only nine fingers, but I ignore it and grit my teeth. Right as I go to bring it down, Claire grabs me by my forearm, halting me.

"Thomas don't," she says softly. "Let him live, there has been enough bloodshed these past few weeks If you want to be better than him let him live."

Exhaling, I look over at her, studying her blue eyes. She's right of course, many men have died, but even more will if I don't ensure that these two never make it back to Rorik. I suppose I could send a raven before we leave for Santiago making him aware of the situation, perhaps letting him know how cowardly his men are. A disgrace, really. And out of my own kindness, I allowed one to live.

Claire sets her jaw and gives her head a slight shake. "Please, let's just leave."

Exhaling, I give my head a small nod and look back down to Falsta. I toss the heavier brutes blade to my right into a pile of pig shit and frown. "You can think Claire that you get to keep your meager waste of a life today," I say expectantly. When he says nothing, I lean forward, placing my hands on my knees. "Go on. Thank her."

At this, the sound of feet coming running down the alley behind me and I know it 's my men. "Told you," I mutter, still holding his gaze.

Falsta looks between me and them before shifting his eyes ato Claire. "Thank you, my lady."

Satisfied, I stand up and place my boot on his chest, shoving him backwards. He falls but catches himself on his hands. "Kinda wish you'd have put up more of a fight." I say to him. "Collect your friend and go." To my shock, he scatters off leaving his friend's body behind.

"What was that about?" Nik asks as they reach us.

"Tell you later. Let's just leave," I mutter, then walk into the barn. I quickly pull out parchment and scribble a letter to Santiago about the mornings events being sure to let him know of how cowardly the two Roriks were before reminding him that it would not be wise to war over two shit stains such as them. I then instruct the stable hand to send a raven immediately and he runs off back towards the town. I remain quiet as we saddle up the horses that the stable hand was unable to get to before finishing up fastening our belongings. I feel Claire's eyes on me as I do but avoid eye contact with her. I'm no longer in the mood for idle chat, even the the auburn haired beauty. When we're done, I look to Bastain and tell him to lead the way. With a click of his teeth he leads us out of Legras and back up the small mountain with myself holding the rear. The weather has remained temperate, and I find myself wiping sweat from my brow on numerous occasions. It's noon before I speak again, calling for a break for the horses.

Gripping the horn on my saddle, I slide off, my feet earning an audible thud as they hit the earth.

"So," Nik says coming my way, his horse in tow. "What happened this morning."

Sighing, I shrug and give my mare a pat on her muscular neck. "They were trying to stir up trouble I suppose. I would've killed the second one if not for Claire. I didn't want her to see that," I explain, glancing at her. She's a good bit away to my left, standing next to Torva. They pass a waterskin back and forth while they talk. Claire's cheeks are flushed, and she wets her hand before pressing the moister to her neck. "The first one called her a whore and...I didn't like that. She's anything but."

"Do you think it was right, letting him go?" Nik asks, unscrewing the cap on his waterskin before drinking deeply.

Fiddling with the leather reins in my hand, I flip open my saddle bag and grab out a slice of jerky. "Not sure. But I could tell you what would've felt right," I retort, remembering how they spoke of Claire and treated the stable hand and how only hours before they tried to take Claire and Torva and sell them back in their homeland. Pressing my lips together I give my head a shake. "Bastards," I mutter.

Nik gives my shoulder a clap. "Maybe we should take it easy for the rest of the day. Camp in the Hollows instead of trying to make it to Dunna? That way you'll have more time with her," he says, knowing my affection for Claire. "It's what I'd do, anyway."

Sighing, I tear off a bite of jerky and chew. "She made her decision. Why drag it out?"

Nik and I chat for a few more minutes while everyone takes a break, mostly of Nik's wife Bri and their children back at home. Bastain volunteers to water the horses at the small pond not far. Markus goes with him and I can hear the two chat of their late-night rutting.

"One thing I'm thankful for is not being home when Rory and them arrive," Nik says, changing the subject. "I've never been one for parades. Or for death notifications for that matter," he says solemnly. I nod, agreeing as I imagine the parade that will take place when our war party arrives back home. The flowers that will be thrown, the music and celebration on the streets. But in those crowds will be families looking for their loved ones as countless men ride by on their horses, searching for faces they will never see again. I then imagine the late-night knocks on the doors and the looks on a wife's face as she learns of her husband's passing.

"Aye," I agree. "It never gets any easier, does it." Rory will have to take my place and give a public eulogy to the mass of people that will form in the courtyard and retell of our victory.

"Come," I say, pushing the thoughts from my mind. Glancing at Claire, I give a sigh. "To the Hallows, I suppose."