Chapter 57

Louisawould have done it.

Hercharge was strong, her aim true. Her knife-blade driving straight toward where she wanted it, into the soft meaty flesh of Rikard's pale, sweaty throat.

Becauseif Rikard knew — if Rikard told — then it would be the end of everything. Her property. Her home. Her sisters' home. Her camp. Her orcs. Her life.

No. She wouldn't allow it. Not after all she'd borne. She would face it, and fix it. She was Skai. I fear you not.

Andas she lunged for Rikard's throat, her blade even — scraped. Broke the skin. Drew out a sharp, tantalizing line of that sweet red blood. So close Louisa could taste it, she almost, almost had it —

Whenher ankle — caught. Jolted. Yanked. And dragged her back and downwards, face-first onto the rocky earth, as sharp, blinding pain flashed through her torso, her arms, her knees, her ankle. What the fuck, what the hell, what why how no no NO —

Rikard'slaugh was loud, lurid, blistering in Louisa's ringing ears. And then — she crumpled, cried out — something slammed into her side, something hard and powerful and shockingly painful. And when her frantic, fluttering eyes finally found the cause of it, it was… Rikard's boot. Rikard had fucking kicked her.

"Now that's better, isn't it, Louisa?" Rikard's grating voice asked, between heavy breaths. "That's just where you belong, you vicious murderous hag. On the ground, caught in my trap, kneeling at my feet."

Caughtin his trap. Oh, gods crush this vile little cockroach, of course it was one of his damned traps. This bastard had cornered her into one, pushed her straight into it. And curse Louisa, why hadn't she even considered that, she needed to get up, call for help, run —

Shescrabbled to shove herself up, to lunge for freedom, or even for her knife — but more pain crashed against her side, and wrenched sharp around her ankle. While another loud laugh clanged through her ears, cold and mocking and triumphant.

"Don't even bother, Louisa," Rikard hissed, and when she struggled to look up again, he was crouching before her, and dangling her knife, her knife — in front of her face. "Can't you see how the gods are on my side in this? I've been lining this border with fresh traps for weeks, and at this point, anyone would have sufficed — but now I've captured the greatest prize of all. The prey I've been hunting all this time. You."

No, no, this wasn't happening, no — but Rikard coldly smiled at her, and even nicked her knife-point painfully at her hot cheek. "And you could have so easily avoided this, Louisa," he continued. "I gave you multiple chances to remove the orcs from my rightful property. I even offered you my hand in marriage. But you refused, so now I'm removing you from my property instead!"

Hewas removing — her. Fuck this bastard swine, he'd set her up, and now he was going to murder her. And he'd known the truth about Scall, all this time, and he'd still offered to marry her…

Butit didn't make sense, none of it made sense, the panic screeching through Louisa's skull, rattling her leg against the pain clamping it tight. Against where it felt cold now, numb, sticky, just like her arms and her hands and her torso, and her twitchy glance downwards found her lovely Skai dress ripped and torn, exposing multiple deep, bloody gashes cut into her skin beneath.

Ohgods, what was she supposed to do, there was no way to face this or fix this or even fucking move. Rikard was going to destroy her and he was going to take everything, the camp, her land, her house, her sisters, the children, no, no, no…

"No," she gasped, with a foolish, foolish swipe for her knife in his hand. "No."

ButRikard only laughed again, yanking the knife away, screeching more panic through Louisa's trembling, bleeding body. Because he was — he was enjoying this, the utter bastard. He wanted to drag it out, and watch her bleed, and make her suffer. He hated her that much, maybe even more than he hated the orcs, and…

Wait. The orcs. Theorcs. And most of all Killik. Killik, holding Louisa's eyes, speaking with such fierce truth in his voice. We are guarding you. I must keep you safe. This fool bleating man shall never harm you. LordScall is dead…

Killikhad sworn to guard her. To help her. And even now, even after everything Killik had said and done, Louisa still… believed him. She did.

Andsomehow, somehow, she found her breath again. Drew it up from the solid earth beneath her, sank it into the pain, into the blood and the cold and the fear.

LordScall was dead. But she wasn't dead, not yet. She could still try. She could face this. She could face Rikard, find a way to delay him, to distract him, to keep him from — she startled, dropped her eyes — from noticing that faint rustle in the trees above…

"But — how, then?" Louisa asked, not fighting the weakness in her voice now, the bitter twist on her mouth. "How did you know I killed LordScall?"

Rikardlaughed again, but a little lighter this time, or even gleeful. Because yes, yes, he'd wanted her to ask. He wanted to lord his superiority over her. He was too confident in his power, his invulnerability, just like LordScall had been…

"I'll admit it was cleverly done, on your part," Rikard replied, with a too-casual shrug. "We all knew Scall liked his late-night rides around his land, even when he'd had too much to drink. ButI still knew my uncle, Louisa, and" — Rikard's chest puffed out — "he still knew his own land. He would never have ridden his horse this way, let alone fallen off and split his head open. Unless someone else did it. Unlessyou did it!"

Rikardjabbed his thick finger toward the place where Scall had died, now perhaps only a dozen paces away. Flaring the memory of it sharp and vivid behind Louisa's eyes, just as clear as if it had been yesterday.

She'darranged for a rich meal. She'd purchased multiple bottles of Scall's favourite vintage, and kept his glass full. And once he'd been staggering drunk, she'd slipped in a few capfuls of pure distilled spirits, too, and lightly suggested he take his usual evening ride out on his lands. And then she'd gone to bed, and crept out the window, and met him just there, on the path. And it had been so, so easy to call out to him, to draw him off his horse, to bring him confused and raging toward her…

Andthen to smash the huge, sharpened rock onto his head. To hear his shocked, affronted screech — but then she'd knocked him down, and swung the rock again, and again. Aiming for the same place, deepening that gaping wound, until Scall's screams had faded into rattling gasps, his blood bubbling warm into the earth.

Andthen, finally, silence.

Ithad never been something Louisa had imagined herself doing, something she'd ever thought herself capable of. But she'd been so helpless, so desperate, so lost, and by then it had been the only choice. The only option left.

Becausenot only had Scall risked Louisa's own life with that infection, and killed all her children — but he'd blithely kept on doing it to other women, too. To his mistresses. To the women who worked in the establishments he frequented. And just the week prior, Louisa had not only heard about one of Scall's mistresses' deaths — but she'd also found Joan weeping in a corner of the stable, with Scall's familiar handprints still marked into her wrists.

Butno one else had noticed. No one else had cared. And finally, death had become the only answer. The only path forward. The only way a cruel, all-powerful lord like Scall would ever face justice.

Luckily, there had been no inquiry around Scall's death — his head wounds had been consistent with a bad fall, and his predilection for drunken late-night rides had been broadly known. But even so, Louisa had nearly had a nervous collapse at the funeral, and afterwards she'd had nightmares for weeks, echoing again and again with the sounds of Scall's screams, the scent of his blood.

Andever since, the guilt and fear had been a quiet, constant weight, haunting her, dragging her into darkness. Enough that she'd never again spoken of her griefs, her losses, and most of all, her inability to have children. Because it all gave her a very clear motive, an excellent reason to have killed her philandering, disease-spreading lord husband. And she couldn't risk it, couldn't face it, she'd just wanted to run, to forget it, to escape it, forever…

Atleast, until Killik. UntilUlfarr. Until their kindness, and their generosity, and their amends. Their redemption. Their peace.I fear you not.

Andnow — even now, lying here broken and helpless in this cursed trap, Louisa finally didn't regret what she'd done. She didn't fear it. By killing LordScall, she'd saved Joan, and gods knew how many other women, too. She'd faced it, and fixed it, and helped the people who'd needed her most.

Andnow, with the camp, she was making her own amends, too. Seeking her own redemption. Helping the people her husband had harmed. Wielding his death and his land for good. For peace.

Andshe wouldn't give up yet. She wouldn't. She was strong, she was alive, she was whole.She was Skai. I fear you not.

"So why, Rikard," Louisa began, because she had to keep thinking, keep him talking, please. "Why did you offer to marry me, if you knew — if you knewI killed your uncle, all this time?"

Andyes, yes, that had been the right question, bringing another smug, superior smile to Rikard's mouth. "I was giving you a chance, Louisa," he said coolly. "I knew my uncle was a raging drunk, and I knew he had that horrid pox, too. I knew he was ill, and not — himself, by the end. And you getting rid of him worked quite well for me — or so I thought. UntilI found out you'd somehow gotten him to split off this piece of land, and leave it to you!"

Andperhaps Louisa was already delirious with the cold and the blood loss, because she couldn't hide the grim smile, pulling across her lips. Because yes, yes, she'd done that, too. She'd dug deep into the old property records, and discovered that one piece of the property had been added later, and therefore could be separated from the original legal requirements of the entail. And while it had been a very tricky business, she'd again used Scall's frequent drunkenness to her advantage, along with — she could admit — his mental confusion from his ever-deepening illness, too. And the day they'd had the final meeting with the lawyer, Scall had thought it had been routine paperwork, rather than him signing a piece of his prized property away.

Ofcourse, it had still been the worst part of the property, and it hadn't dealt with the debts or the mortgages — and the money Louisa had siphoned from Scall's accounts before his death had vanished very, very quickly. But it was still legally her land, and it had still given her the space and the freedom she'd desperately longed for. She'd earned this land, and she'd damn well deserved it.

"So what was your plan, then?" Louisa made herself ask, her eyes fighting to focus on Rikard's still-smiling face. "With the marriage proposal? You would get the land back, and then wait until I let my guard down, and kill me in return?"

Rikard'ssmile thinned — he'd clearly expected to shock Louisa with that revelation, too — and he gave an attempt at a magnanimous shrug. "Maybe," he said, clipped. "But if you had shown yourself an adequate, adoring, appropriately grateful wife, and quickly granted me a proper heir, then maybeI would have let you live. But instead" — he laughed, hard and mocking — "you've repeatedly shown yourself as the greedy, ungrateful, frigid old hag you are! No wonder my poor uncle was fucking half the town, and drinking himself to death!"

Louisa'sbreath hissed through her clenched teeth, but no, no, she wasn't rising to his rubbish, not now. And she had to keep breathing, keep trying, anything…

"And how do you plan to cover up this?" she asked, with a wincing glance down at her caught ankle, her torn dress, her bloody, aching body. "My death, in your trap, on your land?"

ButRikard only laughed, and gave a careless wave of his hand. "Oh, Louisa," he drawled, smug and infuriating. "No one is even going to think of blaming me! You were the one who invited half the town here, to witness all those vicious orcs squatting and brawling with each other on your property! AndI've already established that they keep trespassing on my property, haven't it? It'll be obvious that they killed you. They'llbe the killers here! Again!"

Oh, gods curse this utter swine, and the way he kept laughing, kept touching her knife, like he had every right to it. "I even have an orc-forged knife right here," he said, his tone light, conversational. "It'll be a nice little gift to leave on your mutilated body, won't it?"

Louisa'sgrowl burned from her throat, her hands scrabbling, every instinct shouting, screaming, run, attack, run. But she was still caught, still trapped, even as Rikard snapped out a hand, clutched a fistful of her hair…

"And then," he continued, "I'll publicly avenge my dear neighbour's untimely death. I'll call for justice, and ensure those trespassing, violent orcs carry all the blame. I will personally end that entire peace-treaty, Louisa, and then I will destroy those orcs, and finally get my land back!"

No. No. He couldn't. But damn it, yes, yes, he would. He was a lord, just like Scall. He was invincible, he would do whatever he wanted, and he would never face justice, never…

Rikardlaughed again as he grasped Louisa's hair tighter, yanking her head upwards, exposing her throat, to her own damned knife. And though she wrenched and writhed and shoved at him, she was too cold and weak, he was too strong, she was going to die —

"Goodbye, Louisa," he drawled, as he jerked her hair back harder, and raised her knife. "I hope you enjoy this."

Louisachoked, swallowed, hauled in one last, sweet breath. Braced for the pain, the agony, the end, she'd failed, she'd failed —

Whensomething — crackled. Shifted. Dropped. Streaking down from the tree above, and landing in a cool, easy crouch.

"Oh, she shall enjoy this, fool man," crooned Killik's voice, as his daggers flashed sharp and bright. "She shall."