Free The Staff and the Blade: Irin Chronicles Book Four by Elizabeth Hunter Page B

whole village of rioting humans bent on her destruction.
    They want to burn the singers.
    The humans are going to try to take the village.
    Einar has a heavenly blade stored under his house.
    Someone from the Irina Council is traveling to Orkney.
    Damien is scribing talesm to ready himself for war.
    Sari pulled off her work gloves and tied her hair back in a quick knot before she walked to the library. Rumors of her friend’s ordeal had come to her in the fields where she was working on the barley harvest with half the village. Mostly the non-gossiping half.
    Still, news had come at midday with the meal, and Sari had run to Mirren’s house, then left in relief when she learned that Kirsten was sleeping and the worst of her injuries were nasty scratches and a sprained ankle that was already healing.
    Sari was hungry, but she didn’t want to hear gossip in the longhouse. It was likely Henry would have some kind of rations in the library, so she decided to go there.
    The fact that Damien would also be there only briefly touched her mind.
    My lovely one. My dearest.
    She could still feel his hands. Feel his mouth at her neck and on her breasts. Sari shoved the thought away. Trouble like Kirsten’s could quickly spiral if the right steps weren’t taken to smother rumors about witches and curses. She didn’t need to think about Damien’s mouth just then.
    “Henry?” She pulled open the door of the library and walked into the dim room. Her eyes had barely adjusted when she saw Damien walking toward her. “Oh Damien, I—”
    He stopped her words with a deep, thorough kiss that bent her back and stole her breath. He wrapped an arm around her waist and put his other hand at the side of her neck, brushing his thumb over her hammering pulse as he tasted her. He took his time, and when he drew away, her eyes were crossed and her knees were weak.
    “Hello.” He licked his lips as if tasting the memory of her mouth. “I thought you were in the barley fields today.”
    “I was.” Sari was still wrapped in his arms, and Damien showed no intention of letting her loose. “I heard about Kirsten.”
    “She’ll be fine. Henry and I need to speak to Einar before he does something foolish.”
    “Good luck with that.” She glanced down at their bodies pressed together. “Are you going to…”
    “Kiss you again?” His hands rose to her cheeks. “I’d be happy to, milá .”
    And he did, teasing her mouth playfully with the tip of his tongue and nibbling at her lower lip. She could feel him smiling against her when she put a hand on his chest and pushed him back.
    “I was going to ask if you were going to let me go,” she said, trying to sound cross. “Don’t you need to speak to Einar so we don’t have a riot?”
    “I like kissing you more; the day is suddenly much brighter.” Something fell in a crash from down the hall and Damien shrugged. “And Henry is putting on his boots.”
    Something crashed again.
    “Does he need help?”
    “If he does,” Damien growled, “someone else can help him.”
    Sari wriggled out of his arms and started toward the hall, but Henry emerged, his spectacles askew but his boots on.
    “Ah, Sari!” He smiled. “Isn’t it awful about Kirsten? Poor girl. We’re going to talk to Einar. Try to calm the situation.”
    Sari straightened Henry’s spectacles. “Try to talk sense into your friend. Tell Damien he can’t grab me whenever he likes and kiss me. Especially when the village is in crisis.”
    Henry looked confused. “Are you doing that now?”
    Damien said, “As often as possible.”
    “I thought you were trying patience. You said something about a campaign of attrition.”
    Sari’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
    Henry’s eyebrows rose. “Damien did point out—quite correctly—that it worked well against the Mongols in Hungary.”
    Damien said, “I decided that a more direct forward assault was called for.”
    Sari narrowed her eyes. “And how did that work against