Free Bound by the Viking, Part 2: Compelled by Delilah Fawkes Page A

couldn’t see past her own two feet. The white wisps of the fog closed in, tendrils reaching toward her like hands, like the blanched bones of the dead, clawing, searching…
    The boom, boom, boom of the drums was all around, invading her mind when it should have been dampened by the mists. She covered her ears and ran, blood from her cuts dripping onto her white dress. Tree roots reached up to trip her, or was she just seeing things? She leapt and dodged, running and running, trying to find the edge of the circle, the woods, and back to those who came here with her, to their safe arms, out of this dark place, this magic spell that closed her in.
    She turned around, her dress clinging to her now with sweat and the heavy droplets from the air, and shivered, holding her arms as she gazed back into the twisting, white fog against the black of the night.
    “Aislin… help me…”
    “Brenna?”
    The voice was faint, muffled, but it was so familiar, she’d know it anywhere.
    “Brenna, where are you?”
    “Help…. me…”
    “I’m coming! Tell me where you are!”
    She fought back the way she came, branches whipping her face, another shriek overhead making her duck, shivering and covering her head with her hands. No matter how afraid and cold she was, she’d never let the evil that dwelt her tonight have her sister. Not for anything. She’d rather die than leave Brenna to suffer.
    There was a muffled cry, then nothing, the drums still pounding, drowning out room for even thought in this dank wood.
    “Where are you?!”
    Aislin screamed, her throat raw from the force of her cry. She turned around and around, but there was nothing but tendrils of white, reaching, touching, their cool caress moist on her bare arms. She cried now, angry tears hot on her cheeks.
    “Spirits, damn you! Give me my sis-“
    Flames shot up all around her, the votive flames towering taller than she, and she shrank down, shrieking. They flickered out as fast as they’d flared, and the drums stopped. Voices filled the night air.
    “Aislin? What happened? Come out of there, girl, come here…”
    She stumbled out of the circle of candles, of trees, into the arms of her father’s men, the burbling of the spring behind her filling her mind like darkness fills a hole in the earth.
     
    ***
     
    Aislin awoke shivering, the cry still on her lips.
    There was a grunt from above, then the sound of wood creaking. She looked around, bleary-eyed, the image of the woods still fading. She was on an animal pelt, the fur tickling her aching body. She was naked, her hands bound, before her a sideways view of an enormous stone fireplace, embers burned down low. A piece of charcoal fell apart, hissing and spitting.
    She grimaced.
    It all came flooding back. The burning village, her family’s cries. Brenna’s tear-streaked face as she was carried away, shrieking and fighting, on the back of one of the North Men. Her imprisonment and humiliation at the hands of the man who ruined her life…
    Heat filled her from within, the thoughts stoking her shame into a white-hot rage.
    He did this to her, all of it. He ordered the raid, he bound her, violated her, shamed her in front of his men, and now he held her father’s kilt pin, the sigil of her family, the only legacy she had left, like a common thief.
    His words from the night before slithered through her mind, making her feel ill.
    Six days from now, you will be my bride.
    Not if I can help it , she thought bitterly. I will die first, or take you down to the underworld with me.
    She was an O’Byrne, and her blood was hot, her will fierce. Let him try to wed her, and see what happened. Just let him try.
    Wood creaked behind her again, and a masculine grunt reached her ears. She narrowed her eyes and waited, hoping he’d think she still slept.
    “Was that your ungodly wail, little girl, or are the wolves of Odin at the foot of my bed, howling for blood?”
    Aislin remained silent, her face turned away, but his