Chapter Twenty-Two

A lyce couldn't catch her breath. Panic clenched at her lungs and hummed in her ears.

"Go back, Hawk. You have to save him," she begged when he set her on her feet. "Don't let Cynwulf go with them."

There was no chance of saving him if he left to go to Daffydd. If he stayed, there might be a way to convince the king nothing of consequence had happened. He could still redeem himself. Her head was spinning as she tried to right everything that had gone wrong around her.

"Oh, God—Ffyddlon!" She wrenched free of Hawk's hold and started back toward the clearing. Ffyddlon wasn't dead no matter what Hawk thought; she knew she'd felt her slow, shallow breaths beneath her cheek when she'd laid her cheek against her fur.

Hawk pulled her back, then turned her so she was facing him, digging his fingers painfully into her shoulders.

"Stay put," he commanded.

"I have to go back!" She felt a surge of rage, hot as a flame, rise up inside her. There was too much to lose and she would not let Hawk deter her.

"Don't let her escape," he said, looking over her shoulder as she squirmed to break free. She felt another set of hands clamp onto her elbows as Hawk released her and turned on his heel.

"Quiet," she heard Hunter command from behind her. He pulled her farther into the woods and the darkness, away from Cynwulf and Ffyddlon.

"No," she heard herself repeating as he led her through the trees, one arm tight around her shoulders and the other clamped around her wrist to keep her from escaping. The fight was draining from her with each step, and she suddenly felt boneless, overwhelmed with despair and hopelessness. She didn't resist when Hunter sat her down on the trunk of a fallen tree.

He kneeled in front of her but kept a tight hold on her shoulders. "Breathe," he said. "Slow breaths."

She hadn't realized she was panting, gasping for air, until Hunter shook her slightly and told her again to breathe. Sucking in a large gulp of air, she forced herself to release it in one long breath. It helped to steady her heaving lungs, but she still felt dizzy, like the ground was moving off-kilter under her feet.

The sound of a branch cracking and feet shuffling in the dirt made her jump.

"That will be Hawk," Hunter said in a low voice.

Alyce closed her eyes and prayed Cynwulf would be with him.

And Ffyddlon.

But the image in her head of Ffyddlon lying on the ground, her shoulder slick with blood made her stomach clench. The sound of her yelp as the knife hit her had been heart-wrenching. She'd hardly had time to be frightened of the man with a knife to her throat; she couldn't stop worrying about Ffyddlon, praying the entire time that she wasn't dead.

She gasped with relief when Hawk appeared over Hunter's shoulder, with Ffyddlon draped in his arms. He set her carefully on the ground at her feet and she dropped to her knees, cradling the hound's head in her hands. In the moonlight, she could see the hilt of the knife sticking out of her shoulder and her gut clenched with fear.

"Ffyddlon," she said, stroking the dog's face. There was blood caked on her side, but a hand on her chest confirmed she was still breathing.

Hawk took out his knife and cut a swath of cloth from the bottom of his tunic, then squatted. "Hold her head and keep talking to her." In a quick movement, he pulled the blade out and then placed the cloth over the wound, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

Ffyddlon flinched and whimpered as the knife was removed, but Alyce kept stroking the long, coarse fur on the dog's muzzle to soothe her. She was relieved to see the knife was relatively small as Hawk wiped the flat of the blade against his pants. If the wounds weren't too deep, then Ffyddlon stood a better chance of surviving until they could get her home and have her tended to properly.

"How did you know to come here, Alyce?" Hawk asked. His voice sounded calm as he kept his attention focused on staunching the bleeding from the dog's shoulder, but Alyce sensed his anger in the measured words.

"It is where Cynwulf would bring his paramours when he wanted to be discrete."

Hawk snorted. "And how do you know about it?"

Alyce hesitated. "Geoffrey brought me here."

She shouldn't feel ashamed—Geoffrey had become her husband and it was long ago—but for some inexplicable reason, Hawk seemed incensed by her admission.

"Red," Hawk said in a low voice. "Carry the dog, and let's go."

Alyce reluctantly released Ffyddlon and Red picked the dog up to cradle her in his arms. The cloth Hawk held pressed against the wound didn't look too saturated, and for that, Alyce said a quick prayer of thanks.

Ffyddlon opened her eyes and squirmed in Red's hold, but quickly settled when the movement seemed to hurt her. He had her cradled on her back with her side pressed into his chest so that he could keep pressure on the wound as they walked. Alyce touched her cheek to Ffyddlon's muzzle and stroked her belly as she murmured encouraging words to the dog before Hawk coaxed her away.

Red started through the woods in the direction of Hawkspur, and Hunter nudged her to follow, but she couldn't get her feet to move.

"Cynwulf?" she asked, feeling her throat close around her words. "Where is he?"

"He went with the bowmen," Hawk said in a low voice. "We must go in case any of them circle back."

"He is alive? You didn't hurt him?" She looked intently into Hawk's face, trying to discern if he told her the truth, but it was impossible to see anything other than the outline of his features in the darkness.

"I didn't hurt him," he confirmed, putting a hand on her elbow, guiding her forward.

"Will they hurt him?"

"No," Hawk said. "He is too valuable to them."

Alyce felt relief wash over her, releasing some of the tension in her shoulders and neck. She told herself that if Cynwulf was worth keeping alive, then she would see him again. He would find a way to get back to her, or at least send her word of where he was and how he fared.

She had to believe that was true, or she would not be able to go on.

She took a few unsteady steps before she realized Hawk was no longer at her side. She started to turn, but Hunter stopped her with a firm hand on her arm.

"Hawk!" she called over her shoulder. He was nearly out of sight as his dark form slipped between the trees in the opposite direction.

Hunter tried to urge her forward. "We will get you home safely."

"Where is he going?" she demanded.

When Hunter muttered some nonsense about him coming back soon, she turned, yanking hard on her arm to break free, but his grip was solid.

"Hawk," she cried over her shoulder in desperation. "Hawk! Come back!" He had disappeared into the trees, but she refused to be quiet, despite Hunter's insistence she lower her voice.

Uncontrollable hysteria threatened to choke her, and she couldn't stop herself from screaming. "No! Don't do it, Hawk!"

She pushed against Hunter, desperate to go after Hawk. She had to stop him. He was going to kill her brother, she was certain of it. "Please, Hawk," she begged as she struggled and pulled, but the words were drowned out by her gasping sobs.

Through the blur of tears, she thought she saw a shape take form in the trees where Hawk had disappeared only moments before. She blinked her eyes to clear them, sure she was imagining it, but the shape was still there.

"Hawk," she said, her voice hardly above a whisper.

And then he was there, taking her into his arms and holding her against his chest. She hit his chest with her balled fists even as she pressed her cheek against the solid warmth of him.

"Please, don't kill him," she said as tears streaked down her face. "Let him go. Don't go after him." She was grasping handfuls of his tunic in her hands, looking up into his face now, wanting to hold him close, to deter him from leaving. "I couldn't bear it if you killed him."

She heard him sigh, the force of it rustling her hair. "You're going to be the death of me," he murmured as he tightened one arm around her back and cupped the back of her head with his other hand, pressing her against his shoulder.

"Were you going to kill him? Is that why you were going back?"

"Yes," he admitted, the truth cutting through her heart. She wanted to push away from his, but his arms were suddenly like steel bands, preventing her from putting any space between them.

The memory of the horrible squelching sound of Hawk's knife being stabbed into the man's face flooded her memory. His head was near her ear, and the spray of blood had spurted past her face, splattering against her cheek and neck, feeling like hot embers against her cool skin. Hawk's face looked demonic as he'd pounced on the man.

Then he was crouched over her, the sickening, coppery smell of blood still on his hands, but he was protecting her body with his own as she'd clung to Ffyddlon.

And he was here now, protecting her again.

But it did not banish the memory of the huge man lying in a pool of his own blood with the hilt of a knife protruding from his face. Nausea took hold of her, twisting her gut and forcing the blood to her head in a dizzying rush.

This time when she shoved against Hawk's chest, he released her just enough for her to duck her head to the side and empty the contents of her stomach onto the ground. She stayed bent over, waiting for her stomach to stop heaving, vaguely aware that Hawk had one steadying hand under her shoulder to keep her from pitching forward. With his other hand, he grabbed the curtain of her hair and held it out of the way.

She felt cold once her stomach calmed and the heaving subsided. Her body started to tremble with shivers, and she crossed her arms over herself for warmth. As she stood, Hawk put his hands on her shoulders and dipped his head to look into her face.

"Are you all right?"

Her eyes felt heavy, but she lifted them to look at him. The shivers were increasing, her teeth started to chatter, and her jaw felt too tight to speak. Even if she could open her mouth to say something, she couldn't think of any words. The sound of a whimper filled her ears and for a moment she thought Ffyddlon was crying out for her.

Large hands closed over her shoulders, and she was pulled against the hard wall of Hawk's body. His arms came around her, crushing her to his chest as the pathetic noise from Ffyddlon grew louder.

Only it wasn't Ffyddlon.

She squeezed her eyes shut as her body wracked with tremors and the keening sound grew louder. Vaguely, from far away, she heard a deep murmuring, steady and soothing, the sound enveloping her like a shroud of warm mist.

"You're safe, now."

She felt the words more than she heard them, the sound vibrating against her cheek and ear where they were pressed against Hawk's chest. Slowly, she felt him breaking through the haze that had taken hold of her. She could hardly breathe, he had her cocooned so tightly against him, but she didn't want him to let go. The solid mass of his body against hers and the press of his arms on her back was the protection from the outside world that she needed now more than anything else.

At least until she could calm her mind and put the pieces of her shattering heart back together.

The shaking was starting to subside. Hawk's hold on her loosened slightly, but she wasn't ready for him to let go of her. She curled her arms into her body, turned deeper into his body, and pressed her forehead to his chest. Seeming to sense what she needed, he slid one arm up to circle her shoulders, the other around her waist, holding her to him, giving her his warmth.

"Are you back?" he asked, resting his chin against the top of her head.

"Did I go somewhere?" she asked. She couldn't think of what else to say.

"Aye, you did," he said against her hair.

"I don't know what happened." She sighed heavily. "I've seen blood before, sewn up men wounded in battle. Why was this so hard?"

He stroked a hand over her hair. "Because you've not seen the men get wounded, only after."

She shuddered. "I felt his blood splatter against my face," she said, lifting her hand to wipe at her cheeks.

He released her shoulders and gently pulled her hand away from her face. "I didn't want to kill him until you were well away, but he left me no choice."

"Sir, I'm awaiting your command," Hunter's low voice interrupted. "I need to go now if I am to catch them."

Alyce stiffened in Hawk's embrace, looking up at him, her face felt tight with fear. She desperately wanted Cynwulf to come home, but the reality of his situation was becoming clearer. She would rather her brother escape into Wales than be caught and forced to face the king. She could not bear to see him humiliated and…worse.

She held Hawk's gaze in earnest, watching the muscles of his jaw ripple as his lips tightened into a straight line. She expected him to give the command and felt her heart turning to ice as fear gripped her.

"We return to Hawkspur," he finally said, still looking down at her, and Alyce felt her breath leave her in a rush of relief.

"You know what this means." Red's words were carefully spoken, the gravity of them evident in his tone.

Alyce turned to see him leaning against a tree trunk, her dog still cradled in his arms. Weak as she was, Ffyddlon was gently licking his bearded chin, and he had to keep moving his head to dodge her affectionate tongue.

"Aye, Red," Hawk said angrily. He dropped his arms from Alyce, holding her elbows until she felt steady on her feet.

Hunter, standing near Red, thrust his hand through his hair and turned away.

"It is my order," Hawk growled.

He pulled his tunic over his head, leaving him with only a thin shirt as protection against the night air. The autumn days were still warm, but the night air had become chilled, though not yet cold enough to turn their breath into white puffs of steam.

Alyce started to protest as he slipped the tunic over her head and pulled it down her shoulders, but she could feel the tension coiled in his deliberate, jerky movements, and acquiesced. Then he grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him as he strode toward Red and Hunter.

He stopped when he was even with his men and leveled his gaze at them. "And my order, alone," he said through gritted teeth. "Your duty is to follow my commands, and the king expects nothing less. Neither of you will be expected to answer for my folly."

Alyce was overwhelmed with relief that Hunter would not track down her brother and bring him back to face the king. But it pained her to see how difficult it was for them to fail in their mission, to know they would be embarrassed in front of their king.

Still, it was a small price to pay, in her mind, for the life of her brother.