Page 76 of Blood & Claw

Ailsa’s pounding heart lurched, the violence fading as quickly as it had risen.

When she glanced around, at the crowd that had gathered, she marked shocked stares.

“That was … quite a spectacle, lass.” A hunched figure, leaning heavily upon a cane, emerged from the crowd. An elderly man, most likely one of the village elders. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

I don’t know.

That was the honest answer, but not one she was willing to give. It would make her seem even stranger.

Instead, she pushed herself off the man she’d just slain and rose to her feet.

Her body trembled in the aftermath of the fight.

Suddenly, she wished she could call that fearlessness back, that confidence that made her feel as if she could take on an army and win.

Bile surged up her throat then.

By the Five, she’d killed a man. And even worse, she’d enjoyed it.

Her fingers wouldn’t unclench from the dagger hilt.

“My mother taught me,” she replied, forcing the words out.

The elderly man continued to eye her, gaze sharp. Meanwhile, Dale still hadn’t spoken. His attention hadn’t left her face though.

Ailsa froze.

He saw.

He had her measure now.

How long before everyone else did?

“Och, there’s no need to look so worried, lass,” the village elder said, flashing her a gap-toothed smile. “You have done something good tonight.” He gestured then to the bodies on the ground. “These three have caused our village no end of strife of late. It’s like Gateway every night here. No one dares venture out after dark. They lay in wait in the woods, attacking my people in broad daylight as well.” His expression shadowed then. “We’ve had a few troublemakers here of late … but these three have been the worst.”

“Well, they won’t be bothering you again,” Dale spoke then, casting a glance over the bodies sprawled in the dirt. He then stepped up beside Ailsa and flashed her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “They should have known better than to mess with my wife.”

The village elder snorted a laugh. “Aye, you’re right there.” He paused then. “On behalf of the folk of Ardroth, I thank you both. You’ve earned yourselves free ale and supper … as well as lodgings. Tonight, you are our special guests. Tonight, we celebrate!”

A cheer went up—the sound washing over Ailsa—the surrounding faces relaxing now, although she marked that some of the gazes lingered on her. A woman drew her child back behind her skirts as she stared down at Ailsa’s bloody fingers.

Swallowing, she curled her hands into fists.

“Earlier, you spoke of other troublemakers in Ardroth.” Dale took a sip of ale and eyed the village elder across the table. “What happened?”

Ailsa cut her bodyguard a grateful look. At least one of them was paying attention this evening. She’d been too shaken to remember that detail.

Everything blurred after the fight.

She remembered washing blood from beneath her nails—recalled scrubbing until the skin reddened—yet she could still feel the man’s pulse fluttering beneath her fingertips.

She could still remember how good it had felt when his resistance finally ceased.

But now, she was back in the ale-hall. Around her, music skirled. Mead flowed.

Everyone celebrated. But not Ailsa.

Her muscles wouldn’t relax. She kept checking the doorway and scanning faces.