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Gregor cut a sharp look at the warriors clustered behind Darach then and clicked his tongue. “Get back … I can’t work with you lot standing over me.”

Three of the four obeyed, even as they scowled at the druid.

The tall woman didn’t move though.

Gregor frowned. “You too, Idra.”

The woman’s jaw worked, and her fingers tightened around the handle of her axe. However, she stepped back, taking her place in front of the curtain with the other three warriors.

Dismissing her, Gregor picked up his tattooing needle. “This is going to hurt,” he announced with a thin smile as he took hold of Darach’s wrist.

Once again, Darach didn’t answer. His expression remained shuttered.

A moment later, the druid began to murmur the opening words of the sain. The familiar scent of earth magic unfurled through the alcove—peat smoke, pine, and damp earth.

And then, across the alcove, movement caught her eye.

The woman, Idra, swayed almost imperceptibly. A thin thread of blood trickled from one nostril.

Ailsa blinked.

Idra didn’t raise a hand to wipe it away. She merely stood there, ashen-faced, her gaze never leaving Gregor.

What in the Five is wrong with her?

Gregor, oblivious, positioned Darach’s arm on the table.

The sharpened point hovered above the pale skin of his inner forearm.

Ailsa went rigid. No!

But as Gregor leaned in to make his first cut, motion exploded in the alcove.

Idra went berserk.

Hefting her bearded axe high, she swung it in a vicious arc. It cleaved into the throat of the man standing to her left, spraying blood everywhere.

The second warrior whirled around to see her lunge at him. Cursing, he ducked just in time to miss having the axe bury into his shoulder before yanking a long-bladed knife free from his hip. Next to him, the last of the men who’d followed Gregor into the workshop whipped out twin daggers.

Darach’s stillness shattered.

Lunging forward, he head-butted Gregor viciously.

The druid reeled back, but Darach was already on his feet, following him. Gregor crashed onto the floor on his back. But before he had the chance to recover, Darach’s fist smashed into his face. The druid’s skull slammed down onto hard stone, and he slumped, motionless.

Ailsa rose smoothly to her feet, heat flaring in her belly.

Darach hadn’t given up, after all.

This was a rescue attempt.

A grunt drew her attention then, and she swiveled to see that Kayla had driven her tattooing blade into the throat of the warrior she’d been working on. The man lurched to his feet, clutching at his neck, even as blood dripped through his fingers.

Seizing her moment, Kayla pulled a dagger from the sheath at his thigh and drove it up under his ribs.

The warrior Ailsa had been working on exploded off his stool then. He barreled across the alcove, drawing blades from a knife belt across his chest as he went.

Ailsa swore. She’d let herself get distracted. She had to help the others.