“And that was the last you heard from her?” Bradana asked.

They nodded.

“But,” one of them added, “no one here has heard from a blood kin past the Euphrasia borders. We haven’t heard from Daddy in weeks.”

“Royals ain’t heard nothing yet either,” Bradana admitted. “They usual y hear from the queen on the regular—but nothing.”

“So Rhona’s probably okay, yeah?” one of them eagerly asked, needing to hear her sister was alive and wel . “We’re al just cut off somehow.” They were cute when they were that age. Ful of hope and a positive outlook. But Bradana knew it wouldn’t last.

“You going after her, Mum?” one of them asked.

“No. Your sister made this decision, chose this path.... She wants to go it alone, she can.”

“Mum—”

“I won’t hear it . . . uh . . .”

The child’s shoulders slumped. “Nesta. Me name’s Nesta.”

“Right. Nesta. I know,” she quickly added. She waved them away. “Go. Get out of my sight. We’l discuss this later.” Much later.

“But, Mum . . .” The girl pointed at herself. “Edana.”

“I know! What, Edana?”

“The Elites that were in here . . .”

The one thing that Bradana did know was that if her Rhona was here, not one of those bastards would have made it out of here alive. “What about them?”

“It’s just . . . we don’t think them Elites came from the outside.”

“What?”

“They suddenly came out of the alcove. Near the tunnels. But how could they get past al of us?”

“And we have every entrance in this place covered,” Nesta added.

And the one she assumed must be Breena said, “No way they just come in and no one notices.” Her girls were right. “You three set up a search party. Scour this place, see if you can find anything. But leave whoever’s on the tunnels there. We need to get that blasted thing done.”

“Right.”

They headed out and Bradana tossed after them, “And good work.”

Once they were gone, Bradana tried contacting Rhona, but she knew it wouldn’t work. But now, instead of assuming she was just blocking her—

as the girl sometimes liked to do—she was assuming that Rhona had been . . .

No. She wouldn’t think that. Not about her girl. Not about her Rhona. Soldier that she was, Rhona was also a survivor. A scrapper. She’d be fine.

And Bradana would have to believe that if she hoped to make it through al this.

“I just hope,” Vigholf said, “that you’re not going to spend what, according to you, is our last day on this planet sitting around sulking.”

“Wel . . . that had been part of my plan. The other part was to feel resentful and angry.” Vigholf pressed his forehead against her cheek to stop himself from laughing. “And what if I have a more entertaining plan than that?”

“More entertaining than sulking? I know of nothing like that, Northlander.”

“Then clearly you need to get out more,” he teased, stroking his hand down Rhona’s back, kissing her throat.

Vigholf was moving in to kiss her when she said, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“For getting you into this.”

“You didn’t exactly invite me along. I came of my own accord.”

“I know, but—”

“And,” he cut in, “no matter what happens tomorrow, Rhona. I’ve been honored to fight by your side.” Rhona pul ed back a little, brown eyes peering at him. “Do you mean that?”

Vigholf took her hand in his and lifted it to his mouth. He kissed the back of it, then turned it over and kissed the palm. “When it comes to war, death, and battle, I never say what I don’t mean.”

He could have said a lot of things to her. Told her how pretty he thought she was. How much he liked her eyes. How nice she smel ed after a bath.

How he didn’t find her scars disfiguring in the least. He could have said any of that, but none would have meant more to her than what he did say.

Because he meant those words. She’d earned his respect and he’d earned her trust. And with that respect and trust came loyalty.

Rhona slipped off Vigholf’s lap and while on her knees, faced him. He watched her with that I-need-to-eat expression again, and it only became worse when she pul ed her chain-mail shirt off, tossing it into a corner.

Vigholf scrambled to his own knees then, yanking his shirt up and over his head. He hurled it away, then reached for her, slipping his arm around her waist and pul ing her in close. He kissed her, his tongue teasing hers, one hand on her breast, squeezing and tugging the nipple.

Rhona nearly had her arms around his neck, but Vigholf lifted her up and stretched her out on the floor. He stripped the rest of her clothes off, his hands running along her flesh while his avid gaze fol owed. Rhona reached for him, but Vigholf pul ed back, and lowered himself until he could bury his face against her.

Rhona groaned when Vigholf’s tongue slid inside her, licking her out, and only stopping to tease her clit with the tip. He did it over and over, making Rhona’s body writhe beneath his, her hands gripping the back of his head.

Vigholf took hold of her legs, pushing them back and spreading them wide. He held them down while he feasted on her. Rhona’s eyes closed, and she bit her bottom lip. When her body began to shake, he latched his lips around her clit and suckled.