“The trebuchet is on fire!” the duke roared.
Alesone released her arrow, turned. Outlined within the lick of flames, the nearly built siege engine burned bright. Cheers thundered around her, but she scanned the pile of timber stacked near the forest’s edge.
A distant blur of moment wavered within the wash of flames.
Thomas!
The echo of wood against stone slammed to her right.
“Ladders on the wall!” a knight warned.
Snow lashing her face, Alesone whispered a prayer that Thomas and Donnchadh reached the safety of the tunnel, and then focused on the men scaling the wall.
Leaning forward, with deft accuracy, time and again she loosed her arrows, the roars of anger melding with pain-filled screams of her enemy.
The stench of blood and rancid oil from the earlier pots dumped over the side burned her lungs as she nocked another ash arrow, aimed, then released. Weaving on her feet, she glanced toward the east. A wash of purple smeared the sky. Her fingers tightened on the bow. God in heaven ’twas almost dawn, where were they?
“A ladder to your right,” a nearby knight called.
Alesone ignored the ache in her shoulders, aimed, and took out the lead man.
Two women hurried over, lifted a steaming bucket of oil.
She stepped back.
“Heave!” the woman on the right called. They upended the container.
Screams rang out.
The women carried the empty container away.
Several knights rushed forward, caught the tip of the ladder, shoved.
“They are withdrawing,” the duke called. “Cease fire!”
Fingers numb, Alesone lowered her bow and flexed her hand. “Thank God.”
“Aye,” Thomas agreed, his voice rough with fatigue.
Alesone whirled. On a cry, she launched herself into his arms. “You are safe!”
He wrapped his arms tight around her. “Did you ever doubt me?”
Her eyes blurred, and her body trembled with relief. “Nay.”
“Here now.” Thomas lifted her chin, and a tear she fought to control slid down her cheek.
“I-I was so afraid for you.”
Tenderness softened his gaze. “I swore that I would come back to you.”
She sniffed, wanting to laugh, to cry, the emotions storming her making her feel strong and weak at the same time. On an unsteady breath, she stepped back. “And look at your face all covered in soot.”
“Donnchadh looks the same,” he said with pride. “We slathered a mixture of lard and ash onto our skin to blend in with the night.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Please tell me that isna you that I smell?”
Thomas chuckled. “Penance for success.”
