“Oh, God...” Ashlyn mumbled weakly when she was forced to reach out and grab hold of the banister when her head started spinning. She closed her eyes as her grip tightened around the banister. She ignored the soft splinters threatening to tear into her skin as she slowly exhaled, willing the pain tearing through her head to go away. A small whimper had her wincing as the soft sound sent a fresh wave of pain through the back of her skull.
“It’s okay, Charlie,” Ashlyn whispered only to immediately regret the move when her head started spinning faster. When her legs threatened to give out, she sat down on the bottom step, dropped her head between her legs, and tried breathing through the pain the way the doctor at the hospital showed her.
When that didn’t work, Ashlyn pulled the backpack off her shoulder and dropped it on the floor between her legs, praying that the pain stopped before she was forced to take her pills. She-
“Help me!” came the angry demand that had her opening her eyes and forgetting how to breathe when she found a large man with blood caked on the right side of his face standing over her.
Before she could react, he was grabbing hold of her right arm. She watched as his hand disappeared through her cast only to scream in agony when she felt ice-cold fingers wrap around her arm and squeeze, sending pain tearing through her arm and straight into her bones. She tried to beg him to stop, tried to yank her arm free, but all she could do was scream when he tightened his hold around her arm and yanked her to her feet.
“Help me!”he screamed in her face as black spots began dancing along her vision and tears began streaming down her face.
When she didn’t respond fast enough, he used his hold on her arm to shake her, the move causing the bone the doctor set to snap and-
“What the hell is going on down here?” Uncle Jack demanded as the overhead lights came on as she found herself suddenly hitting the floor, the move causing her back to slam against the edge of the bottom step, knocking the wind out of her before she could scream.
Gasping for air, Ashlyn watched in terror as the large man shifted his attention to Uncle Jack as her uncle made his way down the stairs. She hugged her broken arm against her chest and pressed her back against the wall as she watched the angry man step over her. She waited for the moment when Uncle Jack ran, screamed, did something to stop the man, only to watch as he made his way down the stairs, absently fixing his robe as he leveled a glare on her.
Ashlyn shook her head frantically, trying to warn Uncle Jack only to have him ignore her and-
“He’s going to hurt you!” she managed to get out on a pained gasp when the man reached out to grab Uncle Jack and-
“What the hell are you talking about?” Uncle Jack demanded, his glare slowly turning into a frown as he stared down at her, completely oblivious of the man wrapping his hand around his throat.
“That man,” Ashlyn said, raising her trembling arm and pointed towards the man as the black spots dancing along her vision moved faster and-
“There’s no one there.”
CHAPTER 1
Ráth Finnéin, Ireland
932 A.D.
She should probably stop staring at him and make a run for it, but as Lasarín lay there, most likely dying from the brutal beating that she’d just endured, she couldn’t help but run her eyes over him. She just...
She’d never seen anyone like him before.
She took in everything from the messy, short black hair that he’d rammed his fingers through every time she’d tripped over her own two feet to the muscles flexing in his large arm as he pinched the bridge of his nose before dropping her gaze and taking in rope after rope of golden muscle that made up his torso and released a heartfelt sigh.
“Lad?” came the heavily sighed response that reminded her that she was here for a reason.
Revenge.
“Aye?” Lasarín managed on a murmur as she began blindly searching for her sword only to grumble when she couldn’t find it and forced herself to roll onto her side and somehow ended upon her stomach with her face in the dirt. That was followed by trying to get her trembling arms to cooperate and push herself up only to give up, groan, and mutter, “Kill. Me,” against the dirt.
“How about we just try again, lad?” Shayne, the man who was in charge of turning her into a soldier, said, sounding amused as he grabbed hold of the back of her tunic and picked her up.
“I’d rather ye just end it all,” Lasarín said, gesturing for him to get on with it as he placed her on her feet only to end up grabbing hold of her and righted her again when her legs threatened to give out.
“Yer getting better, lad,” Shayne lied as he leaned over and picked up the wooden training sword and went to hand it to her only to frown when she mumbled, “My arms,” when they refused to cooperate.
“Perhaps we should call it a day,” Shayne said, nodding solemnly as he glanced around them only to frown. “Where’s yer shield, lad?”
“It broke my last fall,” Lasarín said, glancing down at what was left of her shield and found herself wondering if she was going about this the wrong way.
She had other options, ones that didn’t involve her being brutalized every day. She could probably find hemlock by the river that she’d passed to get here, but since the king used food testers, that would probably end with her head on a spike. She could grab the knife she’d hidden along with her real clothes in the woods, but since the king was always surrounded by guards...
Maybe she should dress as a servant instead and wait for the right moment to make him pay for what he did to her mother? Lasarín wondered as her gaze shifted to the large round house that was surrounded by guards. Then again, if he recognized her...
