“We can visit often,” Oria said, her smile, though forced, a welcome relief to the scowls of Raven’s brothers.
“Not with winter approaching,” Royden argued. “The first good snow will make travel difficult.”
“You both,” —Purity looked from her husband to Royden— “need to see this more clearly. You worry about Raven being wife to the Beast, perhaps you should worry for the Beast being wed to your sister.”
Raven smiled at her friend for having such confidence in her.
There was no more time to talk, the Beast and his men were not far from the keep.
Parlan took hold of Raven’s hand. “Please tell me I have at least a few days to talk with you before you’re gone from me again.”
“You have today and more days to come since I will visit here often,” Raven assured him.
“I will hold you to that, daughter,” Parlan said, squeezing her hand.
“And I will make sure of it,” Raven said, finding it difficult to believe it had been five years since she’d last seen her da. She promised herself she’d never let that happen again.
Silence surrounded them when the Beast and six of his warriors drew close, the remainder of his troop waiting on the outskirts of the village.
All of the men were large, the Beast being the largest of them all, though not as one would expect. Some warriors were thicker and broader in the chest, not so the Beast. He was leaner and harder with muscles. His skin was fair, his long hair dark and his eyes were as dark as Raven’s hair. His features were more than fine. They rivaled even Arran’s, and her brother Arran was a man of extra fine features. Though, unlike Arran, the Beast wore a beard that was cropped short. He wore the furs and leather garments of the tribes across the North Sea. He was a Northman and enemy of the Clan MacKinnon. And from what her inquires about him had taught her, like the Northmen, his name was an indication of his nature, hence the name—Wolf the Mighty Beast—and the reason many referred to him as the Beast.
Raven had learned all she could about him even before the chance had risen to free her brothers and she wondered if she knew more about him than he did himself. She had prepared herself well and she was ready to take on the Beast.
The warriors waited until Wolf dismounted, then they followed and remained standing by their horses, their large size and their empty stares causing the villagers who had followed them to keep their distance.
Raven wasn’t surprised that when she stepped forward, her brothers did the same.
Raven offered no greeting. “You weren’t to arrive until tomorrow.”
“It matters not. We leave now,” Wolf ordered.
“Not likely,” she said and catching, out of the corner of her eye, Arran’s slight smile.
“You’re my wife and you’ll obey my command,” Wolf demanded.
“I may be your wife, but as far as me obeying your command—that’s never going to happen,” Raven said and turned her back on him. “Tomorrow was when you were to arrive here and I was to go with you, and I will leave here no sooner than that. Stay if you wish, camp outside the village. I care not what you do. I will see you tomorrow.” She heard her men chuckle as she took her da’s arm. “Come, Da, we’ll talk, drink, eat, and celebrate my return home.”
Raven nodded to her men as she walked up the steps to the keep and they followed behind her. She smiled when she heard Arran’s hardy laughter and the words that tumbled out with it.
“You might just have gotten what you deserve for foolishly marrying my sister.”
Raven sat at a table by the hearth with her da and Wren, who had followed along with them into the Great Hall. Her men settled at the table to her right, the reason she ignored the dais. She wanted her crew close by.
“They go with you tomorrow?” her da asked, turning to the five men.
“We go where she goes,” the man with good features said.
Raven smiled with pride as she introduced the man. “That’s Fyn, Da, a good friend and skilled warrior.”
“I’m relieved and grateful to hear that,” her da said.
Raven continued to introduce her men. “The red-haired fellow is Iver, an exceptional tracker and archer. The wiry fellow at the far end of the table is Brod. I believe you know Clive, the merchant who stopped here often, and George is the scholar among us. They are all good men and they are all like family to me.”
It wasn’t lost on her father that she hadn’t mentioned Brod’s skill and he wondered if it had been on purpose.
Royden and Arran had entered the Great Hall with their wives and joined them at the table, listening to the introductions.