Lord of Raven's Peak by Catherine Coulter Page B

miserable slave. She would not dare to speak her foolishness, for I will not allow it. Do you not see it? She is evil, she brings discord. She makes us angry at each other. She has cast spells on Merrik, weakening him!”
    Oleg slipped his knife from his belt. He took a step toward Deglin. There was no expression on his face, nothing to show his intent. He stopped when Merrik said, “Hold, Oleg. Again Deglin has allowed his mouth to rule the logic of his brain. Is that not true, Deglin?”
    Deglin drew a deep breath, gaining control. “I have been careless. Aye, my lord, I have not heeded what I should heed. I will tell you another story, one that you will find more to your liking.”
    Oleg just shook his head at Deglin, sheathed his knife, and eased himself back down on the wolfskin, crossed his legs, and said, “Come, Laren, what happened? Parma touched Selina’s arms and he felt something strange. Continue.”
    She was silent, wondering what to do. The men wereall looking at her expectantly. She could tell nothing from Merrik’s closed expression. Taby was drowsing in his arms, his head against Merrik’s chest. The men all nodded at her now, some telling her to begin again, aye, tell them about Parma and what Selina did to him. She continued to look back at Merrik. Finally, he nodded at her. She smiled. She rose. She opened her mouth to speak, the words brimming in her mind. She saw his arm rise but she didn’t move back quickly enough. Deglin hit her cheek hard with his fist, knocking her sideways to the ground, and into the fire.

7
    M ERRIK DUMPED T ABY onto the ground and leapt to his feet, but Cleve was faster. He raced to Laren and dragged her from the fire. She was still senseless from the blow Deglin had struck her. Her right trouser leg was burning, sluggish flames that were seeping into the dry wool, seeking better purchase, billowing up black smoke from the material. He knocked her onto her face and dug dirt up with his fingers, flinging it onto her leg. Then he pressed the dirt into the trousers, rubbing furiously. Merrik pulled Cleve aside, jerked off his own tunic, and flattened it against her leg. He raised it and looked down at the burned wool, peeling back, now gaping about her flesh. She turned slowly onto her side and he looked at her face.
    â€œAre you all right?”
    She stared at him a moment, her face without color, her fingers digging into the earth, spasmodically, with no reason, just digging and digging. She winced, lightly touching her fingertips to her cheek where Deglin had struck her. Then she shook her head, as if to clear it. The blood pounded deep and hard, fear clogging her brain, and she smiled and said, “I wasn’t fast enough.”
    Merrik just stared at her, shaking his head. “Is your jaw broken?” Even as he spoke, he touched her cheek,his fingers light and gentle, then nodded. “No, but there will be a bruise.” He looked at her leg again. “Sit up,” he said. He was aware of the men’s angry voices all around them. Good, they wouldn’t stand behind Deglin, not that it mattered to Merrik.
    She did, saying nothing.
    He ripped back the wool, baring her leg. Her leg wasn’t too badly burned, but the flesh from her ankle to her knee was dark red. He imagined the pain must be great, but when he looked at her face again, he saw only blankness, and realized she hadn’t yet given over to it, hadn’t yet realized fully what had happened and what the consequences were going to be. “Stay still,” he said and rose. He turned. Oleg was holding Deglin.
    The skald was panting, struggling against Oleg, but Oleg was strong, as strong as Merrik, and he was very angry.
    Merrik walked to him slowly. He stood there in front of him, saying nothing, merely stared down at him. Deglin stopped struggling. He said, “I did not mean to harm her, just to punish her. She deserved the blow to her face, but