Page 24 of Fang & Fury

“You’re free,” Ailsa whispered.

His gaze cut to her, his lips lifting at the edges. “Aye,” he said roughly. “Thank you.”

“The reunion can wait.” Fern’s impatient voice intruded. Ailsa glanced her way. Her wounded arm hung limply at her side, yet the stubborn set of her jaw made her look far from beaten. “We need to go.”

Still gripping the long-handled axe, blade angled away from her body as always, she pushed the curtain aside and peered out. She then looked left and right before glancing over her shoulder at the three of them. “It’s clear.”

Ailsa peered past her at the narrow strip of passage beyond the doorway.

Freedom.

After three moons of stone walls and locked doors, it was there. Just a handful of strides away. She’d imagined this moment so many times.

“Right,” she breathed. “Let’s go.”

“Grab what weapons you can,” Fern instructed. She cut her attention to Darach then, and the pair of them shared a weighted look. “You know what to do?”

Lips compressing, he nodded.

Ailsa’s gaze flicked between them. “What?”

“Darach’s going to cleave a path out of this fort for us,” Fern replied. “We won’t make it otherwise.”

Ailsa turned to him. “You’re going to shift?”

“Aye.” Darach’s gaze glanced off hers, and a haunted look flashed across his face. “Although I’m holding off until we get clear of the broch.”

“Can you control it?” Kayla asked, frowning.

“No … and that’s why I’m not doing it inside the broch. Outside, you’ll be able to run.” He stooped and helped himself to a short sword. “Come on, time to move.”

They made it all the way down to the ground level of the broch before trouble found them.

Fortunately, there were no guards in the passageway outside the workshop—and they’d taken down all of those inside.

Nonetheless, the four burly guards flanking the heavy oaken doors ahead of them now weren’t about to let them pass.

Fern didn’t bother to glamor herself again. They could have tried a ruse, but even Idra likely wouldn’t be permitted to take the tattooists out of the broch—and so, they threw subterfuge aside for violence.

They’d all taken weapons from upstairs. Darach had his short sword, and Ailsa carried a long-bladed knife gripped in her right hand. Kayla wielded two fighting daggers, and Fern still gripped that vicious bearded axe.

They rushed from the stairwell and fell upon the guards.

One shouted a warning.

Ailsa barely heard him. All she could focus on was blood; the rush of it beneath skin, and the frantic hammering of a panicked heartbeat.

Her own pulse slowed.

Thirst roared through her.

She hit the first guard hard.

However, her knife glanced off his boiled leather shoulder guard instead of driving into his neck.

Throwing the blade aside, she went for his throat with her nails instead.

A surprised grunt and the wet rending of flesh followed.