Reyr the Gold (Dragonwall Series # 2)

Chapter 44 - Hands of Comfort

Kastali Dun

Claire gazed upon the aftermath of Talon and Reyr's wrath. Of her six captors, Eagle alone remained standing. He did not give up so easily, or perhaps he knew what awaited him in the keep's dungeons. In that case, a quick death would have been better. Were he a smart man, he would have fallen onto his own blade.

"It is over, Eagle. Lower your weapons." Talon and Reyr prevailed, shoulder to shoulder, with their Sveraks pointing directly at him.

While this was happening, Claire's gaze wandered around the room. Bodies and parts were scattered across the dirt floor, blood was splattered everywhere, and the air had a heavy metallic scent. The head of the decapitated man named Morgan sat less than ten feet away from her.

His gray face caused her stomach to lurch. Her vision darkened at the edges. She closed her eyes tightly and waited several moments, taking deep breaths. The effort was sobering, and her mind felt a little clearer.

She opened her eyes just as guards appeared to gather the dead. Verath and Bedelth also entered to escort Eagle and Tark away. She did her best to collect herself in the meantime. The next thing she knew, Reyr and Talon were beside her.

Reyr crouched before her while Talon stood beside them. She couldn't bear to look up at Talon, so she kept her gaze level with Reyr's. Without pause, he took her head in his hands and affectionately kissed the top of her hair. More tears blurred her vision. "No need to cry," he said, cooing. "You're safe now." His eyes were so soft, so full of love, that her heart clenched with pity. Something had changed in him since their last meeting.

Before she could respond, he took a knife from his belt and quickly cut the ropes on her wrists and ankles, then he removed the gag from her mouth. At long last, she was free. She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her gown and focused on pulling herself together.

"Let me have some time with her, Reyr." Talon rested his hand on Reyr's shoulder. "See to the others."

Reyr stood, nodding briefly. "At once, Your Grace." Then he rushed away.

Now that she was alone with Talon, Claire anxiously looked at his boots, avoiding his gaze at all costs. She was so ashamed of the mess she had created. All of this was her fault. Regardless of her befuddled mind, despite her inability to think clearly, there was no escaping the deep regret pooling inside her. It flowed in like torrents of water, filling her up entirely. What she had said before—the cruel comment about his failure to find a mate—couldn't be taken back. Rivers only flowed in one direction. A person couldn't simply scoop up the water and put it back.

Her chin trembled once, twice...She tried to focus on a piece of straw sticking out from her skirt. She wanted the world to disappear and swallow her up with it. Maybe then she might be spared the extreme humiliation she felt.

"When you were taken"—Talon's calm voice was nearly a whisper, pleasantly interrupting her remorse—"I almost burned the city to the ground. I threatened to do so, and I might have, were it not for Reyr."

She continued looking down.

"This entire ordeal..." He sighed. "I thought I had lost you."

Still, she said nothing—she couldn't bear to speak.

He knelt beside her and placed his hand over the injuries on her face. "Ender mein," he muttered. She felt his magic as warmth; it spread over her jaw and lips. Instinctively she licked her lips to clear away the blood. They no longer felt swollen and painful.

"Much better," he said. "No trace of Tark's foul fist remains." He held her chin in his fingers, turning her face this way and that, examining it for any further signs of hurt. As he did this, her eyes darted around to avoid his gaze, until they landed on his collarbone and remained fixed there. The fact that he did not show any anger towards her for her reckless behavior was unexpected and very unlike him. "Look at me," he said, keeping his voice low.