Free DEBTS (Vinlanders' Saga Book 3) by Frankie Robertson Page B

lord!” Annikke scoffed. “And lords stick together.”
    “The Jarl is a fair man. He will deal honestly with you, if you’re honest with him.”
    “You know the Jarl so well as that, do you, that you can speak for him?” Annikke didn’t try to conceal her derision. “I think it more likely that you’d say anything to make us compliant. A handsome fellow like you no doubt expects to get whatever you want from women. A few honeyed words and they just drop into your hand.
I
will not.”
    The man laughed, and it was a bitter sound. “Mistress Annikke, you’re right. I cannot speak for the Jarl. But I do not believe Lord Fendrikanin would serve a man so unjust that he would punish a woman wrongfully accused. If you do not come back with me, and you elude me, some other man will be sent to hunt you. You will never be able to rest. What life is that for the girl?”
    Annikke pressed her lips tightly together, unhappy that he’d given her own argument back to her. She stood there, still holding Benoia, with the girl’s arms still wrapped around her, and tried to think of some other way. She couldn’t find one, no more than she’d been able to for the last few days. “He’s right, girl,” she said softly as the horse tossed its head, tugging the reins. Benoia stepped out of Annikke’s embrace to keep control of the beast.
    Benoia lifted a tear stained face, but her expression was fierce. “Then it should be me who goes to Quartzholm. You’re not responsible. I don’t want them to blame you for what I did. You should go home to our cottage.”
    “And let you face Tholvar and Sveyn by yourself? No.” Annikke put her hands on Benoia’s cheeks and smiled even though she felt like crying too. She wiped the girl’s tears away with her thumbs. “I won’t let them separate us. You’ll not face this alone,” she murmured.
    Then she turned and reached into the thicket, holding out her hand to their captor.
    *
     
    Aren took Annikke’s hand, gently wrapping his fingers around hers. As he did, the saplings that held his legs no longer restrained him. Her hand was warm and strong, but he read the promise in her eyes:
Bring harm to my daughter and I’ll have your skin.
    She’d have to get in line. The Elves had made no specific threats if he didn’t protect Annikke, but he didn’t doubt there would be consequences if he failed to pay his debt. Beyond that, his honor wouldn’t allow him to shirk his obligation. How he would fulfill both his debt to Torlon and his duty to Lord Dahleven, he didn’t yet know.
    Benoia glared at him and gave him a wide berth. The young woman was small and slender, and looked younger than her seventeen summers. She held herself rigidly, with lifted chin and squared shoulders. He thought of his own daughter, Tandra, and recognized that Benoia was struggling to maintain a tenuous self-control.
    Aren wouldn’t challenge her. He had no way of knowing the truth of the matter, beyond the gossip he’d gathered, but if half of what he’d heard about Sveyn was true, Benoia deserved to keep what dignity she could. Had someone treated Tandra with the disrespect that Sveyn had apparently shown Benoia, he’d have seen the young lord lying scattered in pieces. He scowled at the thought, and Benoia flinched.
    “What now?” Annikke asked.
    Aren looked at the Fey-marked woman. Fatigue and worry shadowed her eyes and there was a smudge on her cheek that he wanted to reach out and wipe away. Her glorious silver hair was coming loose from a braid that hung down to her waist. Falling free, he could imagine that tips of those strands would tease her nicely rounded rear. He would enjoy brushing those silver locks.
    “Will you tie us up and drag us behind your horse?”
    Annikke’s blunt question shook him free of his inappropriate thoughts.
    Aren looked at the sun’s position, gauging the time left in the day. Should they travel a distance to burn off some of the fight the women still had in them,