by Jayne Castel
“Well then … allow me to enter your stronghold. I shall check for myself.”
“You don’t rule here, Edward,” Gavina reminded him, her voice hardening as anger quickened within her. Her simmering temper made the French flow easily from her lips. “And since you have brought an army with you, I shall not be welcoming you within the walls of Dunnottar.”
He stared back at her, and for an instant, Gavina felt a thrill of victory. Surprise had flared in those ice-blue eyes. He hadn’t expected such a response from her.
Edward’s mouth pursed. “I tire of Scottish women and their sharp tongues,” he growled. “Your husband must have found death a welcome escape.”
Gavina swallowed a laugh. Indeed, she’d seen the simpering women among Edward’s retainers in Stirling. It appeared English men liked their women even meeker than Scottish men did.
The urge to argue reared within her, yet Gavina swallowed it down. She’d won a small victory in this barbed exchange, but she’d not press her advantage.
“It seems that we are at an impasse, My Lady,” Edward said when the brittle silence between them drew out. Beside Gavina, Cassian wisely continued to hold his tongue. Nonetheless, he was a solid, steadying presence at her side. “If you won’t let me see for myself whether or not you’re shielding that enemy of the English, I have no choice but to name you my enemy as well.”
Gavina stared back. She didn’t break his stare, even if his words made her belly tremble.
Be strong, she counseled herself. Don’t let him intimidate ye.
It was hard though. Edward’s tone was now as icy as his gaze. Although he spoke with a slight lisp, his voice was powerful. There was a reason this man had managed to take half of Scotland, why he’d even taken Dunnottar in the past. He was a warrior king, and he didn’t take kindly to being defied.
When she didn’t answer him, Edward continued. “However, since I am in a merciful mood, I will give you one last chance. You have until sunrise tomorrow to deliver William Wallace to me.” He paused there, letting his words sink in. “But if you don’t, I will lay siege to Dunnottar. I swear I will smash this fortress to dust and burn every last one of you alive.”
His words, uttered without a trace of emotion, made Gavina start to sweat. Nonetheless, her gaze didn’t falter.
Another frosty silence stretched out between them, and Gavina realized that the parley was indeed at an end. There was nothing left to say.
Pulse racing, Gavina reined her palfrey around and urged it back to the path up to the gates. Wordlessly, Cassian followed her.
And all the way up to the gatehouse, she felt Edward Longshanks’s gaze boring into her back.
Gavina’s palfrey clattered into the lower ward bailey. Drawing up her mount, she swung down from the saddle to see a crowd amassing before her. Men and women—mostly guards and servants—watched her, their faces both pale and hopeful.
The Wallace was among them, a fierce presence towering over those standing by him.
Elizabeth pushed her way to the front, Robbie perched on a hip. “What happened?” Behind Elizabeth, both Heather and Aila approached, their faces strained.
Gavina didn’t reply immediately. Instead, her gaze shifted to where William Wallace now drew close. The crowd parted to let the big man through.
Swallowing hard, Gavina tried to shake off the dread that now pressed down upon her ribcage. Edward was terrifying when riled. And when he’d uttered his threat, she’d believed every word.
When the English had taken Dunnottar in the past, they’d only laid siege to the fortress until the gates were breached, only killed those who fought them. Everyone else had been spared. Gavina remembered David railing at his brother as the English rounded them up like sheep. They’d locked Robert, David, and Donnan in the dungeons for a spell, until all three swore that they’d cause no trouble for the garrison that was now in place.
Looking back, they’d been relatively merciful. But there wouldn’t be any mercy shown this time.
In defying Edward, she’d made an enemy of him.
Her gaze settled on the outlaw when he stopped a few feet away.
Ye can’t stay here, William.
“My Lady?” Wallace’s gaze was narrowed when it met hers. “What did Longshanks have to say?”
XIII
BLOOD WILL BE SPILLED HERE
“I’M NOT LEAVING Dunnottar.” William Wallace’s voice thundered across the laird’s solar. “Especially with Longshanks within my grasp!”
Gavina took a sip of wine from the cup she clasped, welcoming its comforting heat. After her meeting with Edward, she felt in need of something to steady her frayed nerves. “He knows ye are here, William,” she replied. The calmness of her voice belied her rapidly beating heart. “And he’ll not stop till he captures ye.”
“Let him come!” Wallace snarled. He started to pace the solar, his long legs eating up the space. The chamber was a spacious one, but the man’s presence suddenly made it confined. “Let him beat on the walls. I’ll happily put my dirk through his throat if he dares face me!”
They weren’t alone in the solar. Elizabeth sat beside Gavina by the hearth, and Donnan stood next to her. Draco, Maximus, and Cassian had also joined them. The three friends stood by the window, their faces grim.
“William, please listen to me,” Gavina said, making another attempt to penetrate the cloak of rage that shrouded the Wallace this evening. Outdoors, the light had faded, and the English army now crouched upon the cliff-top, waiting to strike with the coming dawn. “This isn’t just about ye. The lives of everyone within these walls are at stake now. If ye leave Dunnottar, then maybe I can allow Edward to enter the castle and check that we aren’t sheltering ye. Just maybe, he will spare us. I shall to do everything in my power to avoid bloodshed.”
The Wallace wheeled around, his dark gaze spearing her. Despite that he wore a thick beard, she could see the muscles of his jaw working. “Do ye really think he’ll spare Dunnottar, Gavina?” he asked roughly. “Longshanks already had his sights upon this fortress, long before he discovered my presence. Whether or not ye wish it, blood will be spilled here.”
Gavina’s belly dropped at these words. “William, I—”
“I’m not going,” Wallace cut in, his voice lowering to a growl. “Besides, how would ye expect me to get past Edward’s army?”
“I can’t believe Galbraith betrayed us,” Donnan spoke up, his grey-green eyes smoldering with anger.
“I can,” Cassian cut in, his voice tight. “The man is bitter to the core. This is his way of taking his reckoning upon us all.”
Gavina drew in a deep breath, focusing her thoughts. She was shocked and angered by the smith’s treachery, but Galbraith couldn’t be their focus right now. Instead, she wasn’t finished trying to convince the Wallace to leave. She wouldn’t give up hope of ending this peacefully—not yet.
“Stirling isn’t the only castle with a secret exit,” she said, her gaze seeking the outlaw’s. “There is a boat below the cliff … accessible via a rope ladder beneath the dungeon entrance. David may have been hot-headed, but he was no fool. He insisted Cassian ready the boat for him … should the need ever arise for him to leave in a hurry.” She paused there, letting her words sink in. “I suggest ye take it … while ye can.”
The Wallace’s eyes widened further. “That craven,” he muttered. “Why aren’t I surprised that he’d give himself a way out, while the rest of ye burned?”
By the hearth, Elizabeth’s mouth thinned. “Robert would never have sanctioned such a thing,” she assured him. Next to her, the steward was scowling. David hadn’t told Donnan of his boat. A few yards away, Cassian wore an uncomfortable expression.
Frustration spiraled up within Gavina. She understood their anger, yet once again the conversation was veering off course. Ignoring Elizabeth and Donnan’s responses, she focused on the Wallace once more. His scowl was fierce enough to frighten bairns, yet she pressed on. “Whatever the reason
for David’s actions, the fact remains that wee boat is sitting there, William … ready for ye.”
A heavy silence fell in the solar then. Gavina waited patiently for the outlaw’s response, and as she did so, the banner that hung on the wall opposite caught her eye. It was the De Keith motto. Veritas Vincit—Truth conquers. She hoped her directness would be victorious in this instance, although judging from the thunderous look on Wallace’s face, she feared it wouldn’t.
“No man of honor would slink away at a moment like this,” he finally growled.
Gavina swallowed hard. “Not even to save the rest of us?”
His mouth twisted. “I repeat, Edward of England won’t show anyone here mercy, even if ye rid yerself of me and throw open the gates to him.” His gaze narrowed. “Ye have managed Dunnottar well since David’s death, My Lady … and showed courage today … but ye would do well to leave matters of war to yer menfolk.”
Draco watched the interaction between the Lady of Dunnottar and William Wallace with interest.
His leader’s last words had angered her. She raised her chin, her heart-shaped face tensing, while those blue eyes turned hard.
Mithras strike him down. She was a sight to behold.
Few men would have the guts to hold the Wallace’s eye so boldly—the man wore a belt, scabbard, and baldrick made of another man’s skin for pity’s sake. Even Draco minded him when he was in a temper.
Yet the lady stared back at the freedom fighter with ire smoldering in her gaze.
Long moments passed before Gavina finally spoke. “Ye are right, William … I know little of war.” Her tone was clipped, and a nerve flickered under one eye. The fingers wrapped around her goblet clenched. “But nonetheless, I do know of its consequences, and I will do all I can to prevent a massacre here.”
Wallace stared back at her, his heavy features softening a little. “Sometimes bloodshed is the only way forward, My Lady,” he rumbled. “Please let me do what I’m best at. Captain Gaius and I are ready to the lead the defense of Dunnottar. If Longshanks wants a fight, let’s give him one.”
Gavina’s pale throat bobbed, before she gave a slight, barely-perceptible nod. She turned her attention to Cassian then, their gazes meeting. “Very well,” she said, her voice strained now. “I can see it is no use. I hand the defense over to ye then, Captain.”
Curse men and their bull-headed ways. If women ruled this land, there would be far fewer wars and feuds.
Gavina crossed to the sideboard and poured herself a cup of sloe wine. She noted that her hands were shaking and muttered a curse under her breath. Her parley with Edward and debate with the Wallace had unnerved her more than she’d realized.
She wasn’t much of a drinker—not like her late husband, who’d imbibed a jug of wine most evenings. But this evening was different.
Gavina crossed to the window seat and sat down. The wooden shutters were closed, for it was a cool evening outdoors. The wind had died with the dusk, and a dank sea mist had crept in. Not only that, but with the shutters open, she could hear the shouts of men and the rumble of activity throughout the keep as it readied itself for the coming battle.
Tomorrow, Longshanks would attack—and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.
Taking a large gulp of wine, Gavina’s thoughts returned to the words she’d exchanged with Edward beneath the keep. He was ruthless and stubborn. Her only hope had been that William Wallace would agree to leave. But she should have known he wouldn’t. The man was a proud Scot, the bravest freedom fighter this land had ever known. He’d never run from a fight.
All the same, his refusal had frustrated her.
He was of the opinion that Edward of England was devoid of mercy, but Gavina disagreed. The English king was a man of keen intelligence. If she’d been able to prove that the Wallace didn’t shelter within Dunnottar, he might have spared them all.
But now we’ll never know.
Gavina had just taken another gulp of wine, and was mulling over her exchange with Wallace and the others, when a soft knock sounded on the door to her solar.
Gavina sighed; she’d hoped for a little more time alone. However, it was clearly not to be—not on the eve before battle. Drawing in a deep breath, she called out, “Who is it?”
“It’s me … My Lady,” Aila called back. “Are ye ready to be undressed for bed?”
Of course, Aila always attended her at this hour. With everything that had happened, she’d lost track of time.
“Not yet,” Gavina replied. “But come in anyway.”
The door creaked open, and an elegant woman clad in dove-grey, her thick brown hair pulled back from her face, entered. Aila had changed so much since she and Cassian had wed, Gavina reflected. She’d always been a pretty lass before, but now she possessed a serene beauty that Gavina envied.
Ever since their marriage, Aila usually wore a wide smile. She was blissfully happy with Cassian, Gavina knew it. But this evening, her winsome face was tense, her grey eyes troubled.
“Pour yerself a cup of wine, Aila,” Gavina greeted her, motioning to the sideboard. “I think we could both do with something to calm our nerves.”
Aila paused a moment, before nodding. She helped herself to a cup and crossed to where Gavina sat at the window, perching upon a stool.
“I hear Longshanks will indeed attack tomorrow?” Aila murmured, raising the cup to her lips and taking a sip.
“Aye … unless I deliver him the Wallace.”
“Which ye would never do.”
The certainty in her maid’s voice made Gavina huff a bitter laugh. Of course she was never actually going to hand Wallace over to Longshanks—but helping him escape would be a different matter.
She met Aila’s eye then, favoring her with a tired smile. “I apologize, Aila … I haven’t been myself of late.”
It was true. She’d barely spoken to her maid since her return, and hadn’t spent afternoons with Heather either as she usually did.
Guilt weighs too heavily upon me.
Aila offered her a wan smile in return. “I know what happened … Cassian told me all.”
“I imagined he did.”
“Ye don’t have to look so worried, My Lady. I don’t judge ye … I too wouldn’t want to wed a man I didn’t love.”
Gavina stiffened, surprised by Aila’s response. “But the curse—”
“Ye forget … I was with ye all those years while ye were wed to David. I saw how unhappy ye were. Why would I wish ye to enter a loveless union again?”
A lump rose in Gavina’s throat at these words. Aila’s selflessness made tears prickle the back of her eyes. “But I know how much it means to ye all … that the curse is broken,” she said huskily. “Maximus, Cassian, and Draco may never get another chance. I feel as if I’m robbing ye all of a normal life … of a family.”
Aila stared back, her own eyes glittering as tears rose. “Nonsense, My Lady … the curse is stronger than all of us,” she murmured. “Please don’t take such responsibility upon yer shoulders.”
XIV
WITH THE DAWN
ALL HE COULD hear was the roar of his own breathing, the thunder of his own heart. All he could see was pitch-black, smothering darkness.
He clawed at his stone tomb. He tried to kick it, to elbow his way out. But the stone wouldn’t give an inch. It bruised and bloodied his fingers and toes, and all the while, the ragged sound of his breathing mocked him. Sweat coursed down his face. Hunger gnawed at his belly. His throat was so dry that he could barely swallow, barely breathe.
Panic assailed him then, mounting in sickly waves till it couldn’t be borne. Sometimes the darkness and stone walls surrounding him on every side felt as if they were closing in.
Alone in the dark, he began to scream.
Draco sat up, heart pounding. He was panting as if he’d just sprinted up ten flights of stairs.
For a few instants, he was disoriented. The horror of the nightmare still clung to him. He was still int
erred in the stone tomb: forgotten, alone, and silenced.
Sweat bathed his naked body, and despite that it was warm inside the barracks, a shiver went through him.
Draco dragged a hand down his face. He needed to get hold of himself.
It is only a bad dream.
He hadn’t had a nightmare like that in a long while. In the years following his escape from that tomb, he’d awoken often in the night, dripping with sweat, heart pounding like a battle drum. But as time drew out and the years passed, the dreams gradually grew less vivid.
Only, some things could never be forgotten.
He might be occupied with other matters, but sometimes he felt as if there were still a part of him that was locked underground, screaming to be freed.
Enough of this nonsense.
The barracks, and the snoring of the other men in the cots around him, suddenly felt oppressive. It was an effort to drag in each breath. Draco needed fresh air; he had to get outside. He wouldn’t be able to sleep now anyway.
He reached for his clothing in the darkness, pulling on his braies and a leather vest. He then scooped up his boots and carried them with him out of the barracks, stopping to pull them on once he reached the steps outdoors.
Mist wreathed into the lower ward, snaking fingers drifting across the sea of glistening cobblestones. The air was damp and cool out here, and Draco sucked in deep, steadying lungfuls of it.
That’s better. The horror of that dream was drawing back now. His heartbeat was slowing down.
But Draco didn’t go back inside the barracks once his pulse had calmed. Instead, he crossed to the postern door that lead up to the top of the guard tower—to the Watch. With Edward’s army at the gate, Wallace’s men were also taking turns guarding the walls, aiding the Dunnottar Guard. Draco had done a shift earlier that evening. But since he had no wish to return to that suffocating barracks, and the possibility of more bad dreams, he decided he might as well resume his station.
