Raw Winter

Chapter 47: Pieces of Eight

Rawintr could imagine if she just reached out she could wrap her hands around the pompous man's neck or dig her fingers in the obnoxious frills that adorned him, but she knew better. Both literally and figuratively, he was out of her reach. Her eye wasn't any help in determining just how many steps it would take to get to him, and Chresher was standing in front of her, holding his son by both arms in front of him.

He looked exactly how she remembered him—stupid, arrogant, and willing to make a fuss just so he could get what he wanted, but knew better than to underestimate him for being stupid. His men surrounded them, and he had expected them.

"So you must be Rawintr Wlyfric," Catinol said with a smug grin, looking directly at her. "I've had time to hear plenty about you, and I'm not surprised out of all the people I've wronged it would have to be you that came. I know Wlyfrics to be stubborn, mewling bitches, and they're so hard to snuff out. I've been looking for your damned mother for ages and I have to say it wasn't easy. If she's anything, she's clever, but she can be fooled like any woman. She thinks I've given up and settled down. Tell me, do you want to watch me kill your mother or see her corpse? I'm sure she's been missing you, but I heard Captain Hades Smith did a good job of getting you out of the way—at least until you returned and killed him. Isn't that right, Joeson?"

Rawintr glared, but instead of addressing him, she said, "Joeson, I told you if I saw any of you again, I wouldn't be so merciful as I was when I dismissed you from my ship. Do you have anything to say for yourself before we kill you?"

"Kill me?" Joeson said. "You made a mistake when you killed my friend, Wlyfric, and if anyone is dying, it's going to be you and all the damned fools who thought it was a good idea to sail with you as their captain."

"Maybe I can let you have her for a night or two," Catinol said. "It won't be the same as avenging your captain, but it'll put her back in her place. I heard she ended up in the right house for it, but women like her don't learn, do they? I suppose we'll be disposing of her before long, though if we can break her—"

"Shut up—shut up!" Rawintr snarled, finding herself propelled forward, her steps carrying her closer and closer to him.

She was nearly past Chresher, but the man stepped in front of her and she felt someone behind her gripping her wrist, tugging her.

"Captain, stop!" Whistle cried. She hadn't heard it, but both of them had. It was the sound of so many crossbows being loaded and aimed.

But her blood was boiling, and it took everything inside her not to wheel around and strike him so hard he wouldn't only let her go but not get back up. She wanted to reach forward, to shove Chresher out of her way with no regard to who he was or what he was doing for her. The only thing important to her even if they shot her a thousand times was making sure she reached Catinol and tore the life out of him.

But she remembered they had his son as she drew level with Chresher and that drew her to a stop, but not without dragging Whistle. She said in a low tone, "You shouldn't be too hasty. Do you not see what we have here?"

She reached around because her other arm was being held behind her and tore the gag from Varnett's mouth. The first thing she expected him to do was to cry out or make demands.

But he didn't.

He said so quietly Rawintr thought was imagining it, "I've already told you and your crew. You've lost."

Catinol laughed, harsh, ugly, and loud, and said, "What? You want me to let you come over here and kill me for him?"

Rawintr stared at him, her blue eye shining as it reflected the light that shone at his back. She closed her eyes, momentarily feeling blinded, and when she opened them again, he was pointing and where he pointed was at his son and this time the young man—the boy—finally cried out before the surrounding men lifted their crossbows and fired.