Page 43 of The Unencumbered Warrior
A sob swelled in her chest, but she bit it back.
The guards would tell others. They would spread fear. There would be no mercy now.
Her fate was sealed.
And yet…he will come for me.
Raff would not let her die alone. She could feel the certainty of it in her heart.He loves me too much not to try.
And that terrified her more than the flames they would set for her to burn.
Her hand went to the small pouch tucked in her belt—the herbs the old woman at market had slipped her with noexplanation but a soft whisper, “It will keep you safe. Hide who you are.”
Ingrid clutched the pouch, closed her eyes, and with her hope fragile but fierce, she whispered, “Spirits of stone, wind, and flame, carry my voice, whisper my name. To those who hear with heart and soul, guide them swift to keep me whole.”
Raff stopped in his tracks,every muscle tense, his breath caught in his throat. The woods stretched quiet and still around him, heavy with mist and the scent of rich earth. Then it came again, soft as a sigh, distant as a dream.
“Raff.”
“Ingrid,” he whispered, but the sound cracked as it left him.
He turned in a slow circle, eyes scanning the trees, but there was no one. Only the hush of the forest. And yet… he had heard her. Not with his ears, but somewhere deeper, where soul met bone. Her voice had found him.
Love. It had to be. Love kept them bound to each other.
He took a step forward, then another, drawn by something he couldn’t explain—wouldn’t question. His hand clenched at his side, rage and fear twisting tight in his gut. She was calling to him. She needed him. And damn any man, beast, or devil who stood in his way.
He dropped to one knee, pressed his palm to the earth, and murmured low, his voice a promise more than a prayer.
“Not blade nor fire, not witch nor warlord, will keep me from you. I will find you, Ingrid. I will burn the world if I must.”
He stood, the air thicker now, the trees pressing closer, as if the forest itself heard and braced for what would come. And Raff walked on, no longer searching for the witch.
He was following his wife’s voice.
CHAPTER 19
The forest grew darker the deeper Raff went, the clouds overhead adding to the gloom. The trees here leaned in close like old men huddled in secret counsel. The trail was faint but familiar—he had traveled these woods as a boy, his father laughing beside him, calling greetings to Clan MacCannish men when they’d been kin in all but name.
Each step fed the storm in his chest. He clung to the echo of Ingrid’s voice. He didn’t know how she’d reached him, only that she had. And if she could reach him… she was still alive.
He ducked beneath a low branch, heart pounding, jaw clenched.
Then a whisper of sound, too close, too wrong. He spun, hand to sword?—
Only to find her standing there… the witch.
One breath she wasn’t, the next—there she was, as if she’d risen from the roots beneath his feet. Her dark cloak swirled without wind, her eyes sharp as frost, mouth curled in disdain.
“You dare walk into MacCannish lands alone?” she asked. “You’ve grown dafter by the hour.”
He didn’t flinch. “I don’t need you.”
“Oh?” She arched a brow, amused. “You think the wish is done with you? That you can just toss it aside like a stone from your boot?”
“It’s my will that drives me now. Not your cursed magic.”
She snorted. “Idiot.”
