Rune King

"No, it isn't," she hissed. She was seething with rage, and it seemed the madder she got that the quieter she spoke, like a knife-edge being honed.

"I can't leave them to die."

"So warn someone about it."

"I have warned someone."

The damned silence again. If he wanted her to figure out a solution to this, then he'd tell her everything. If he wanted her help then he'd ask for it. Instead, he'd already decided what the right answer was, and he'd be damned to change his mind.

Deirdre took back every good thing she'd said about him. Gunnar was a bastard and a fool and she'd be glad to see him gone. Just as soon as she was able to get back home, she'd be alone again and she liked it just fine, thank you.

She cursed and stood back up, straightening her clothing.

"I'm sorry," he said weakly.

"That's not good enough. I told you, Gunnar. I just want to go home."

"And I'll take you home. I promise."

"When? It's always just more promises with you, Gunnar. Always just something else that needs dealing with, and I'm tired of it."

She watched his temper flare at that, and watched him reign it back in. Good. Let him get angry. Maybe he'd understand one-tenth of what she was going through. She felt the fire of rage in her eyes, fought to snuff it out.

This wasn't a time for throwing a tantrum. No, that would come. Right now she had to be smart, had to talk him out of this. Had to secure her freedom before he snatched it away from her a third time.

He was so upset about her little play at getting him kicked out, but what about his betrayals? What about his broken promises?

She held herself back from saying it, but then thought bitterly that she shouldn't have. She should have let him have it. But she wasn't going to do that. She needed him to see reason, and cutting words weren't going to win her any arguments, regardless of how much she wanted to say them.

"Promise me. When do I leave? And if you lie to me, if you change the deal again—"

His face sank just a bit, and for a moment Deirdre almost felt sorry for him. She knew what he was thinking. He was trying to do the right thing for his men. She couldn't let that matter when it was her life that he was weighing that against. She had to look out for herself.

"I don't know—"

"You say it's two hours away? If they're going to be able to be saved, I can do what I can tomorrow. Tomorrow. You take me tomorrow. Promise, or take me now, because I won't go along with them forever. One day, or none."

His jaw tightened as he weighed the options. One day wasn't much. He knew it, though he couldn't be sure how much she could get done. Truth be told, neither could she. But she was willing to gamble that she could get anyone who was close to death away from the brink in the hours after they broke through the ambush.

He'd have to take those odds, if he wanted anything from her at all. Finally he nodded.

"No more changing your mind?"

"I swear it," he said. "Tomorrow night. Be ready."

She swallowed her frustration. Twenty-four hours was a long time. A lot could go wrong in that time. Then again, a lot of things could go right.

If he'd put his words in the right ears, perhaps they would be able to skirt the entire thing. Perhaps there would be no need for her to stay. She could be totally safe, without a doubt.

Something in her gut told her that thought was optimistic, and she didn't doubt it for a moment.

Gunnar didn't look back as he left. He couldn't. It burned him to admit, but Deirdre was right. He'd promised, and then he hadn't delivered, not even the tiniest bit. It wasn't comfortable for him to have to change things on her.

If she thought that he wasn't trying, though, then she was sorely mistaken. She'd find that out soon enough. Until he could follow-through on his promises, it didn't matter a whole lot what he wanted or thought. So he'd let her mistrust him. After all, it was a small price to pay.

Gunnar took a deep breath. Well, it wasn't ideal. But she was right to try to force him, or at least he understood why she did it. He wasn't going to get upset over a woman doing her best.

Nobody stopped him as he left. There wasn't anyone to stop him. They had all gone to join the fighting. The way that things had gone, he wondered whether or not anyone could have heard them, even with the noise they'd made.