Chapter Twenty-Five
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Tyson scanned the small cellar below the derelict chapel.
John’s troubled eyes traveled the dirt floor before something caught his attention. He reached toward Edmund and grabbed the torch from him before crossing the small space and crouching low.
Tyson followed him. “What is it? What do you see?”
John looked up, meeting Tyson’s eyes. “Blood.” His brow creased. “Fresh blood.”
“They were here.” Tyson didn’t know whether to feel relieved or alarmed. They’d traveled days to the village but seen no sign of Amalie other than a camp in the woods where a few men corralled horses. They hadn’t approached it, not wanting to be delayed.
Edmund blew out a breath. “Well, that’s better than what we had before.” They’d first gone to the h
