Page 56 of Promised to the Cursed Laird

"I ken." She wiped the last of the honey from her own mouth with the back of her hand, composure visibly reassembling itself, though her voice hadn't fully steadied yet. "Go. I've the children and yer men both. We'll be here when ye're done."

He held her eyes a moment then signaled two of his men, turned and followed Fergus toward the raised voices carrying from the far end of the street, and did not look back, because he suspected if he did, he wouldn't manage to leave at all.

Neilina watched him go, the strange, pleasant sensation of his thumb against her tongue still lingering. She turned back to the children with a smile she couldn't quite smooth away, gathering their attention back toward the horses tethered along the low wall near the kirk.

"Right," she said. "Let's see how ye manage a proper street. Reins short, heels down, and mind the⁠—"

A cart rattled past, one of the ponies shied, and she caught its bridle before the small rider could do more than gasp, murmuring low and steady until the animal settled. All of it ordinary, the kind of small chaos she'd expected to manage today, and she was still crouched by the pony's head when she noticed, in the distance, three riders coming down the street from the direction opposite the kirk.

She didn't think anything of it at first. Riders came and went. It was only when one of the two guards Marcas had left with her, a broad, quiet man named Uisdean, shifted his weight and put himself a half-step forward of the children, and she immediately went alert.

"Stay close," she said to the nearest child, low, not yet certain why she was saying it.

The riders didn't slow as they approached. That was the first wrong thing. Travelers passing through slowed near a knot of children and horses, out of ordinary courtesy if nothing else. These three kept coming at the same pace, hooves striking the hard-packed road in a steady rhythm.

Uisdean moved.

“Behind me, my lady.”

The younger guard turned at the same instant, his hand dropping towards his sword.

The lead rider was already off his horse and had a blade in his hand.

“Down!” Uisdean shoved Neilina backwards.

The blade meant for her caught him instead, cutting across his shoulder with enough force to drive him sideways into the kirk wall, his blood pouring down his arm. His head struck stone with a sickening crack, and he dropped to one knee.

The children screamed. Neilina froze for half a heartbeat.

Get them behind me.

"Run!" She shoved the nearest child toward the kirk door, hard, no gentleness left in it. "Inside — go, NOW⁠—"

Then another attacker came through the gap. The younger guard met him head-on.

Their blades collided with a sharp crack, steel scraping against steel as the man drove him backwards. A horse reared behind them, screaming, its front hooves striking the air. People were screaming. One of the children stumbled and went down hard on both knees.

“Inside!” Neilina shouted.

She seized the child's arm and hauled him upright.

“Get inside the kirk! Go!”

The boy ran. Another child was crying too hard to move.

Neilina pushed him towards the door.

“Go!”

A shadow fell across her. She turned. A man's hand caught her upper arm. She twisted immediately. Marcas's voice came back to her from the training yard.

Don't fight the grip. Turn with it.

She dropped her weight, twisted towards the man's thumb and drove her elbow backwards with everything she had.

The man grunted and his fingers loosened. Neilina tore herself free. Her shoulder struck the kirk wall as she stumbled, and her hand found something cold and heavy against the stone.

A farrier's iron rod. She snatched it up. The attacker lunged and she swung. The iron struck his forearm with a dull, brutal crack. He swore and staggered sideways, clutching the arm. Neilina barely had time to breathe before another man came at her, she backed into the wall, there was nowhere for her to go.