Painted Blade || sihtric

47.

DURING the night, Bemia spoke one single word which was 'no' whenever someone would offer her food or ask her if she was okay.

The mother had spent the afternoon beside the creek, wallowing in self-pity and betrayal after what she'd found out about her son.

How could Ebbe keep such a secret from her? How could he do that when he knew all along how much the 'death' of her son ached her?

None of it made sense to her aching heart and those running questions kept her up most of the night.

Espen had apologized to his silent mother many times through the night and all she could do was nod while staring at the dancing flames.

Thankfully, Sihtric had spoken to the boy at some point, explaining to him that when Bemia's emotions become too much to handle, she tended to shut down and go quiet. So now the young man understood that his mother was just struggling to process the news that kept her stirring and turning in her sleep.

And now her exhaustion was back to bite her in the arse as she sat atop a horse, going through the forest beside her brother with the others following behind.

But that silence was interrupted when Finan whistled. "Danes," he announced in warning.

Bemia moved her eyes away from the horse's ears to look ahead at the sight of damn Haesten with his kinfolk in tow.

"It is Haesten," Uhtred murmured with a slightly surprised look.

Bemia let out a small scoff. "No surprise he's still alive."

Sihtric, at her side in an instant, nodded his agreement. "Where is he going?"

"He's with his kinfolk," Finan informed them when Haesten spotted them. "He'll not want to fight."

"That's a shame," Bemia muttered, pulling her horse to a stop beside her brother.

Haesten grinned when he looked at Uhtred. "Uhtred Ragnarson!" He chuckled, coming to a slow stop near them. "I thought I could smell something rotten on the air!"

"We should kill him now, Lord, while we have the chance," Sihtric advised, hand on the hilt of his sword.

"I've had enough of fighting Danes, even weasels like Haesten," Uhtred murmured.

Bemia raised a brow at that. "Your soul truly is broken."

Haesten's grin grew when his eyes locked with Bemia's cold ones. "Bemia and her pretty boys...looking so sad and far from home. Why?"

"It is none of your concern," Uhtred flatly answered.

"Let us pass and I won't cut off your head," Bemia taunted, a smirk on her lips. "Though I wouldn't mind in doing so."

Haesten chuckled again. "Oddly enough, that sharp tongue I have missed," he drawled and Bemia knew the unsheathing of a sword was her husband's without looking. Then another sounded and she knew it was her son. "I suppose, once more, you ride out to save the Lady Aethelflaed."

Bemia sat up straighter at that, confused about what the hell he meant and now worried for her daughter's safety.

"Continue if you like, Uhtred," Haesten went on. "It seems fate has brought us together again. Your men look like ragged dogs in need of meat, and we have plenty. We camp here tonight. Join us."

Bemia turned her attention to her considering brother. "This is a bad idea," she said in a hushed tone.