“Filthy English,” another man spat, edging into the center to take the place of his fallen companion.
Henry didn’t acknowledge the newest contender except to tighten his grip on the sword.
My nerves couldn’t tolerate any more of this. Stepping from the crowd, I moved silently behind the man, who was so intent on making the first strike that he missed the slight pressure from my hand on his back. A burst of fire passed through him. He tensed, but there wasn’t time for anything else before I stunned the various muscles that controlled his arms. His sword dropped at once, clattering on the stones below. With a cry of surprise, he spun around, his eyes near popping with shock from the hands that now hung useless at his side.
“What did you do?” he choked out.
I ignored him, intent on a greater quarry. Stepping over the sword, I found the same measure of shock on Henry’s face.
“Selah,” he breathed.
The stress from the past few minutes came rushing to the surface. “Unbelievable,” I huffed. “You can’t have been here more than two days, and you’ve already managed to get into a fight.” For emphasis I gestured to where the remaining swordsmen had gathered to help their wounded companion. “And not just any old fight would do, would it? Oh no, it had to be seven to one.”
The shock faded from Henry’s face, replaced by a smile that flowed through my entire being in an unexpected rush of warmth. “Where have you been?” he asked, reaching for me. “I’ve been worried sick since I watched you sail from Bristol.”
At his first touch, the fear and frustration fell away, and I went freely, his name a relieved sigh on my lips as he pulled me into the hard wall of his chest.
Resting his cheek on top my head, he inhaled a deep breath through his nose. “Why do you smell like cinnamon?”
Events from the past two days tumbled through my mind, near unfathomable though I’d lived every one. “I’ll explain everything later.”
“Where’s James? Didn’t he accompany you?” I heard the frown in his voice.
“We got separated during the crossing.” Impatient to be away, I tugged at his coat sleeve. “No more questions until you’re out of danger.”
“I was never in any danger,” he scoffed.
I bent my head back to gape at him. “Good heavens, Henry! You were fighting seven men.” I tugged once more on his sleeve. “Please, let’s go. I’ve a friend who can take us out of Wexford until the tension has cooled.”
Henry sighed. “In a moment, Selah. There’s something you must know first.”
His ominous tone struck me, and I released his sleeve, the other men temporarily forgotten. “What is it? Have you found Nora and Deri?”
Henry shook his head. “They’re not in Wexford.”
I paused just long enough to ingest this new information. “Deri must have brought Nora straight to the oak grove then.” And to Carmen, if such a being existed. “We’ve still ample daylight to find them.”
“From what I’ve seen, the outlying areas are covered in woods, and without help, we could spend weeks searching in the wrong place.” He squeezed his eyes shut in clear frustration. “But there’s something else I have to tell you first.”
A Gaelic curse cut through the commotion from where the men remained huddled together.
“Whatever it is can wait till we’re gone.” I attempted to pull away, but his arm held fast. “What is wrong with you? Those men are certain to make another attack if for no other reason than to repay what you did to their friend.”
Henry shifted his gaze past me. “About that—”
“The wound isn’t life threatening, and with so many witnesses there’s little I can do other than stanch the bleeding.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you to heal him.”
“Then what is it—”
A pained groan stopped me cold. “Sabie...” a man croaked from somewhere close behind me.
The name struck a visceral cord that turned my whole body rigid with shock. I didn’t attempt to look around, but rather stared even harder at Henry. “Did you...was that...?” Words fumbled around in my mouth, random and incoherent. Only one person had ever combined my first and middle name, Selah Elizabeth, in such an odd way. And that person was dead.
“Sabie...” The man spoke a second time, like a desperate plea.
“It can’t be,” I whispered into Henry’s waistcoat. Unless the dead had found a way to visit Wexford.
Henry gave me a sad look. “I’m sorry, Selah.” Loosening his grip, he slowly turned me toward the crowd, while still managing to keep me pressed close. At first I didn’t know where to look until my gaze dipped to the wounded man, and my heart nearly stopped as I stared straight into the eyes of my brother Sean.
My knees buckled and I would have sunk to a heap if Henry hadn’t kept ahold of me. “But you’re dead,” I murmured through shaky lips.