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Gunnar's head was spinning, and the young viking took the opportunity to grab him round the waist and throw Gunnar from the wagon. His arms, still tied down, twisted wickedly and pulled agonizingly, threatening at any moment to pop out sickeningly.
Then he was free and fell to the ground, rewarded with a stiff boot to the head, and another to his gut in a one-two rhythm. Another hit him, and another, the blows coming one after the other.
The pain exploded behind his eyes, his mind starting to go blank as the hits kept coming. A normal man might have been dead by now, he thought. It was only because of his particularly unique ability to withstand abuse that he was even still able to breathe, that his entire ribcage hadn't been broken.
He tried to fight back, for a moment. Wrapped his arms around one of their legs as it came kicking into his chest. He turned over, pulling the man to the ground, and then brought down his heavy hands, still tied together, on the boy's head. His nose exploded in bright red blood, streaming down his face.
Gunnar ignored it and tried to bring his hands down again like twin hammers, but a stiff boot to the skull sent him sprawling back to the ground, and before he could grab another the boy was on his feet again, continuing the beating with blood continuing to streak down his face.
He could feel his bones cracking, could feel his consciousness slip away. What was happening? Why? And what would happen to Deirdre?
The last question echoed in his mind as he tried to grit his teeth through the pain. What was he doing just leaving her there with them? Why wasn't he fighting any more?
And then the world was black.
Fifteen
Deirdre sucked in a breath and tried to calm herself down. There was nothing to be worried about. Valdemar had called her in, but that didn't mean anything. He was probably just hoping for an update on the injured.
The question, and the reason that she was starting to panic, was whether or not to tell him that Gunnar was healed up. If he were to win and Gunnar lost again, then all eyes would be on her to answer some very tough questions about why she hadn't thought to mention what he was planning.
If he lost, though, it wouldn't be hard to let the little detail slip to Gunnar, and that was the last thing that she wanted. That left her in between a rock and a hard place, especially since she knew that letting Gunnar continue the way he had been going was dangerous.
As she came into the tent the idea hit her like a shot. She wouldn't be able to get Gunnar to take her away right now. If she were to ask him, he would have laughed in her face. He had other concerns, concerns like commanding his raiding band and being a big damn hero.
If he was able to take control again, that is. If he wasn't—the thought kept running through her head, how easy it would be for Valdemar to kill him. She'd already told him how to find and use poison that would put him down for days at a time.
How could she avoid a fight between them, though? It would be easy. She slipped in and was surprised to find that Valdemar, unlike Gunnar, had already acquired chairs, and even a table, that looked to have been stolen during a previous raid. It made a stark contrast to the bare tent of the former leader.
"Sit down," he said, gesturing to an empty seat.
She did, not wanting to say anything too soon. She had to do this just right, or it could all turn around on her. "You called for me?"
"I did," he said, sitting back and looking her over. She was intensely aware of his eyes on her, similar to the feeling of Gunnar looking, but something set her on edge about it. She squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. "How are the men? Will they live?"
She tried to decide how much detail he wanted, and decided that he probably didn't want particularly much. "Yes, they'll live. The other two might not wake more than a few minutes at a time for… I don't know. Some time. But they'll live."
"Are you saying that Gunnar is different somehow?"
"He's less injured than he might have seemed at first."
Valdemar steepled his hands and nodded. "Good. Thank you for telling me. You may go."
That wasn't remotely what she had wanted. She'd wanted to drop that hint, and to have him ask her for her opinion. That was the risk that she had faced in trying to imply the danger rather than state it outright, though. Some people would always misunderstand, and the risk had always been there.
She stood up, struggling to decide wheth
er or not to abandon her plans. Gunnar would be ready to go any time, and if she stuck with him, he might be able to protect her, like he had promised to already. She didn't have any trouble believing that he wanted to, that he was thinking about her.
But what did that mean? What did it matter if he was thinking about her best interests if he didn't know what her best interests even were?
The decision was already made, but she was too afraid to admit it to herself. She clenched her teeth together and stopped before she could get out. She had to do it now, or she wasn't going to do it at all.
"I think he's planning something," she said. Her voice sounded strange. Afraid. She hadn't thought that she felt afraid of anything, but now that she was there, saying the words, she realized what she was afraid of.
There wasn't any way to go back from this decision. She was betraying Gunnar. She'd have to live with that for the rest of whatever life she'd live, and hope to heaven that he was going to do what she wanted.
If he were to realize what had happened, to realize that it was her that had betrayed him, the consequences could be dire.
