*Saoirse*
The pounding of my heart matched the frenzied rhythm of my boots across the sand as I weaved through the throng of bodies, one hand to my belly and the other not-so-gently moving people out of my way. The arena was alive with the electric aftermath of combat. Their cheers and shouts were a far cry from the jeers they had thrown at my husband not too long ago.
Finally, I cleared the crowd and found myself at the edge of the arena. And, there, in the center, beneath the banners fluttering in the wind, stood Malcolm. Beside him was my husband, proud and unharmed.
The relief I felt was overwhelming. A part of me feared that last kiss was the very last. These men had been out for blood, glory, and triumph.
"Rhys!" My voice tore from my throat as I sprinted to where he stood. His gaze found mine as I neared, a silent storm of emotions swirling within the depths of his eyes. It would seem I wasn’t the only one who had feared the worst.
