Medieval Ever After

by Kathryn Le Veque

  He pushed past Burke hastily and yanked the cell door wide. The light from the candle threw shifting shadows against the cell’s stone walls as Burke came up behind him.

  The cell was empty.

  “Bloody hell, what’s going on?” Daniel snapped. “Where is she?”

  Robert came to his side.

  “Warren must have moved her, along with his entire army,” Robert said levelly, though Daniel didn’t miss the bitterness lacing his voice.

  “Then why leave one guard on the curtain wall for us to pick off?” Garrick said, a frown creasing his brow.

  “A decoy? Or perhaps a thin attempt to cover his absence?” Burke replied.

  “Nay,” Daniel breathed, sheathing his sword and turning his back on the others to stare at the cell walls. “Nay, this can’t be it. We can’t fail.”

  “It’s not over yet, little brother,” Robert said quietly behind him.

  “We’ll do a sweep of the tower, and once the sun has risen, we’ll check the ground surrounding the main gate for signs of movement. Warren can’t mobilize an entire army without leaving a trace,” Garrick added.

  Daniel nodded, but his stomach sank to the floor. Could his sense that Rona was near be wrong? Could Warren have outmaneuvered the combined strategic abilities of all four of them?

  He took a deep breath and shoved his thoughts aside. He drew his sword once more. They had work to do. No matter where Rona was, no matter how far away Warren had taken her, he would find her. And kill Warren.

  He strode out of the cell and back to the stairs, his brothers and cousin following him. When they reached the great hall, they continued upward, winding their way to the private chambers abovestairs. Each time they came upon a door leading off the stairwell, they’d shove it open, weapons at the ready. But every time, they were only met with dark, empty chambers.

  They had nearly swept the entire tower when Daniel noticed a faint glow of light coming from farther up the spiraling stairwell. He threw up a hand to halt the others, who instantly tensed. Motioning toward the light ahead, Daniel crept up the stairs, his sword raised.

  At the very top of the tower stairs stood one door. Faint light spilled around the doorframe. As the four of them took their positions around the door, Daniel shot them each a quick nod. With all his might, he kicked the door. He heard a groan and a splintering noise as the door swung open, but as he stepped inside, he froze.

  Warm candlelight filled the chamber, making him squint. Nevertheless, his eyes were instantly drawn to the center of the room, where Rona stood before him.

  With a knife at her throat.

  HIGHLANDER’S RECKONING

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Rona jumped and nearly screamed when the chamber door burst open. But when she saw Daniel, raised sword in his hands, she nearly crumpled to the floor with a mixture of joy and dread.

  The only thing that kept her on her feet and rooted in place was Warren’s dagger against her throat.

  Warren stood behind her, using her as a shield against Daniel. He held the dagger to her neck tightly enough that her body was flush against his and her head was tilted back slightly.

  They had been standing like this for more than an hour. It seemed like ages ago that Warren had stormed into her cell and yanked her painfully up the stairs to his bedchamber, but it had only been a few hours earlier in the night.

  At first, she thought she was on her way to ransom negotiations with Daniel. If she’d kept her count accurately, it had been five nights and four days since she’d been taken in the Galloway woods, and a day and a half since Warren had visited her in the dungeon to take a lock of her hair. The timing would be tight, but it was possible that Warren’s ransom note had already reached Daniel, and that they’d agreed to meet for an exchange or to discuss the terms.

  But when Warren had continued up the spiral staircase past the great hall, dread had begun to fill her. When he opened the door to his bedchamber and she’d met the sight of his enormous four-poster bed, which dominated the room, she’d struggled wildly against his grip on her arms.

  He’d struck her hard enough that she’d fallen to the ground, and he kicked her a few times to ensure her submission.

  “I’ll not fuck a Highlander’s used whore,” Warren had said with a sneer at her. At least she was safe from that.

  He’d made her stand in the middle of the room while he gave a flurry of orders to several different men just on the other side of the door. Then she knew what Warren had planned for Daniel and Loch Doon. Selfishly, she longed for him to arrive, to take her away from this nightmare. But if he arrived, as Warren was counting on, Daniel would be walking right into Warren’s trap.

  The castle had grown quiet as the men departed. Then Warren had drawn the jewel-encrusted dagger at his waist and moved behind her, laying the cold blade against her neck. He seemed content to wait like that, never moving. But for her, a storm was breaking inside.

  Her terror for Daniel blurred with the press of the dagger at her throat. In the last five days, she’d only had the crust of bread and waterskin Warren had given her. She trembled as she waited for Daniel, longing to see his handsome, strong face one more time before ruin befell them all.

  And now here he was, his sword gleaming in the chamber’s candlelight, his face a mask of rage, and his body taut and ready to attack.

  With a growl that sounded more animal than human, Daniel took a step forward, levelling his sword.

  Suddenly the dagger pressed hard into Rona’s neck, and she struggled back from the blade, twisting her head as much as she could away from its sharp edge. A panicked scream rose in her throat. This was it. Warren was going to kill her now, in front of Daniel.

  “I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you,” Warren said behind her. She couldn’t see Warren’s face, but she could tell from his voice that he was sneering. “You’re hurting her.”

  Daniel froze, his chest heaving with rage. He stretched his neck to try to get a clear look at Warren, but Warren shifted behind her so that Daniel couldn’t set his sights on him.

  Rona caught a flicker of movement over Daniel’s shoulder in the doorway. Slowly, Robert, Burke, and finally Garrick entered the chamber, coming to stand behind Daniel. Burke and Robert lowered their swords so that the tips rested on the chamber’s floor, and Burke set down a tallow candle. But Garrick kept an arrow aimed at her, the bowstring drawn back to his cheek.

  “Do you have a shot?” Daniel said flatly, never taking his eyes from her.

  “Nay, not a clean one,” Garrick replied behind him, his voice tight with frustration.

  Though she knew it went against every fiber in his being, Daniel motioned for Garrick to lower the arrow. Then he forced himself to slowly drop the tip of his sword, though he kept both hands gripped on the hilt.

  Once he did, the pressure from the dagger against her throat eased marginally, and she could breathe again.

  “What’s your play here, Warren?” Robert said from behind Daniel. “If you had wanted to kill the lass, you’d have done it already.”

  Daniel drew back his lips and snarled at his brother’s words, but Rona distantly comprehended what Robert was trying to do. He was drawing Warren out, stalling him. She desperately wanted to scream a warning to them, to tell them that stalling was exactly what Warren wanted.

  “Or perhaps I was just waiting for you filthy Sinclairs to arrive so that I could let you watch as I slice her throat and drain the lifeblood from her,” Warren replied.

  For effect, he pressed the blade a little harder against her throat once more, causing her to inhale sharply. Daniel’s eyes flared, but he didn’t move.

  “If you want to hurt me, here I am,” Daniel said through gritted teeth. “Why don’t you let her go and face me, man to man?”

  “You should know by now that appeals to my chivalric side won’t work,” Warren said. “Besides, your brothers taught me that it is much more painful and…effective to go after what a man cares fo
r instead of attacking him directly.”

  “So that’s what this is, Warren?” Robert said. “You’re taking vengeance for Alwin and Jossalyn?”

  Rona felt Warren shrug behind her.

  “More for Lady Hewett than my weakling sister. That reminds me, though.”

  Warren stepped sideways, keeping Rona in front of him by guiding her with the knife on her throat. Now she could see fully around Daniel to Garrick.

  “I believe I owe you for this.” Warren flashed his other hand in front of her, and she noticed a circular white scar on both the back and palm of his hand.

  Garrick’s eyes flickered to Warren’s hand, and a cold, deadly smile spread across his face.

  “Any time you’d like to repay me for the arrow I sent through your hand, I’ll be more than willing.”

  “Perhaps once this little matter is taken care of,” Warren replied calmly, but he began backing up toward the large bed behind them.

  Rona kept pace with him, the blade keeping her plastered to him. To her surprise, when Warren’s legs bumped into the bed, he sat on its edge, bringing her down onto his lap. Even through her wool dress, she could feel that heat rolled off him.

  Daniel growled again, but Rona knew Warren only had her on his lap to serve as his shield.

  “If all you want is to kill her in front of me, what are you waiting for?” Daniel hissed, his eyes burning in rage.

  Warren sighed. “I thought I might draw it out a bit. You see, your lovely wife has caused me quite a bit of trouble and pain. I’m sure you have become acquainted with her willfulness, but I must chastise you for not breaking her of it yet.”

  Daniel blinked several times, and his eyes locked on Rona as if registering her appearance for the first time. She hadn’t seen herself since she’d been captured, but she could guess at what she must look like to him. Her hair was tangled and matted, her gown dirt-soiled and torn in places. Her face was stiff and achy, likely bruised badly, and she knew that dried blood mixed with fresher red in several places where Warren had hit her.

  Daniel inhaled sharply, and his face flashed from rage to anguish and back again.

  Warren scoffed behind her. “She’s only just begun to pay for what she’s done to me.”

  She felt him shift beneath her, and he leaned over slightly so that for the first time, his face appeared to Daniel and the others from behind her shoulder. She saw their eyes widen, and she knew they were seeing the horror she’d witnessed a few hours ago when he’d fetched her from the dungeon.

  The wound on his left cheek where she’d bitten him hadn’t closed. In fact, it had festered into a raw, open cesspit. The flesh was red and inflamed, and it oozed yellowish pus. Worse, the festering was spreading. Warren’s left eye was half-swollen shut and as inflamed as the raw wound on his cheek. And there were tendrils of red and purple trailing from the mangled flesh down his neck and up toward his sandy hair.

  She hadn’t seen Warren try to cover the gaping, inflamed wound since he’d dragged her from the dungeon. She guessed that it was too painful even for the most soothing poultice or the softest bandage. She’d seem him wince and gnash his teeth several times, however, and knew the wound pained him greatly. Perhaps that was why he was sitting on the edge of the bed, she thought with a flicker of hope. Perhaps the wound was sapping his strength. He was far too hot as well—was fever racking him?

  Daniel gazed with revulsion at Warren’s mangled face.

  “Please tell me that my wife did that to you,” he said.

  Daniel’s barb struck its mark, but too well. The blade was suddenly pressing against Rona’s throat again. A trickle of warmth ran down her neck, and she let out a half-scream, half-cry at the feel of her own blood flowing.

  The blade eased back once more.

  “I warned you,” Warren said stormily. “Do something foolish again and she’ll pay for it.”

  Daniel looked torn between wanting to rip Warren’s throat out with his teeth and staying rooted in place for Rona’s sake. Luckily, Burke diverted Warren’s attention.

  “Where is your army? And why have you remained here alone and unguarded?” Burke said with a surprising level of calm.

  Warren turned his attention to Burke, who stood farthest away.

  “I’m not entirely alone and unguarded,” he replied, giving Rona a little shake. “But about my army, you’ll just have to wait a little longer before all is revealed.”

  Though his voice was smooth, Rona could feel Warren slouching deeper into the bed. She risked a glance down at the blade against her throat. Warren’s knuckles were white from his grip on the dagger, and his hand shook a little.

  A combination of desperation and hope surged through her. The longer Warren stalled, the more likely it was that his plan would be unstoppable. But on the other hand, his strength seemed to be flagging. The festering was spreading quickly, sapping his energy. How long could he withstand the damage from such a wound? He’d already been sickly when he first visited her in the dungeon almost two days ago, but he’d deteriorated even more since then.

  She locked eyes with Daniel. He was barely holding on to the thread of his composure. His own knuckles were white on the hilt of his sword, so torturous was it for him to stand before her and be unable to strike down her abuser. She tried to silently communicate with him, to tell him to hold on just for a few more moments, that she was all right and that Warren wouldn’t be able to restrain her for much longer.

  “You see, I have been on the defensive for too long. Ever since the battle of Roslin, I have been forced to stay behind the walls of Dunbraes rather than search out and rid the land of you Scottish barbarians.”

  Despite his shaking hand and the feverish heat rolling off him, Warren seemed to be savoring drawing this out. It was his last play, Rona knew.

  “And with King Edward dead, I was beginning to lose hope that the task of cleansing the Scottish scourge from lands that should belong to England would ever be completed. His son has proven himself an ineffectual weakling who will never take up his father’s title of Hammer of the Scots,” Warren went on.

  Rona tore her eyes from Daniel and shifted her gaze to Garrick, who stood to his right and behind him. Garrick still had an arrow nocked, though his bow was lowered at his side. He flicked his eyes to Rona and away again so quickly that she wasn’t sure he’d understood what she was silently trying to communicate.

  “…so close to the Borderlands for so long,” Warren was saying. Rona was hardly paying attention to him. Her stomach twisted in anticipation. She had to do something. She had to take advantage of his loosening grip on the dagger at her throat. She knew Warren was backed into a corner now. He’d run out of time. He would tell them his plan now that he’d stalled them, but once he had, she was no longer of use to him. She had to strike before he no longer needed her as a shield.

  “…realized I didn’t have to wait. I could finally go on the offense against you savages. I could attack.”

  It was time.

  Suddenly Rona threw both hands around the wrist that held the dagger to her throat. Pulling Warren’s wrist away from her throat as hard as she could, she slammed one elbow into his ribs. As Warren grunted and crumpled slightly behind her, she caught a glimpse of Garrick dropping to one knee and drawing back his bowstring in one smooth movement.

  She flung herself forward onto the floor just as Garrick let his arrow fly. In mid-fall, she heard a whir next to her ear and felt a breath of air as the arrow shot past her face. She landed hard on the floor, but turned to look back over her shoulder at Warren.

  He half-screamed, half-wheezed as his free hand scraped and pulled at the arrow buried in his chest. He looked down at the arrow, his good eye wide and his infected one dripping pus.

  All of a sudden Daniel was at her side, crouching next to her on the floor and pulling her into his arms.

  She had held herself together for so long, finding strength she never knew she possessed. But her composure shattered at the fee
l of Daniel’s warm, large hands running all over her, checking for injuries. She dug her fingers into him and clung to him for dear life, sobs ripping through her.

  Rona lifted her head to look up at Daniel, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Robert, Garrick, and Burke moving in on Warren, who leaned back on top of his bed, propped up by one elbow.

  “He sent his army to Loch Doon last night,” Rona cried out through her tears. “They will set siege to the castle when they reach it in a few hours.” She had taken away the last thread of power Warren had over them, his last secret, the last surprise he could spring on them.

  “You stupid bitch!” Warren hissed, his good eye wild with fury.

  Robert, Garrick, and Burke froze in their advance upon Warren and exchanged a dark look. Rona felt Daniel tense against her as well.

  “None of you will kill me,” Warren rasped, tugging their attention back to him. He was dragging himself backward on his large bed. “I won’t give you the satisfaction.”

  Just then, he raised his hand, and Rona realized he still held his dagger.

  “You’re right!” she blurted out, somehow finding the strength to spring to her feet.

  Warren’s frenzied gaze jerked to her.

  “None of them will kill you, because I already have!” She bared her teeth at him in savage rage, taking a step closer to the bed. “If only I could watch my bite kill you slowly and painfully.”

  Warren pushed himself farther back on the bed, brandishing the jeweled dagger, but a terrified look transformed his mangled features. Before any of the men could make a move toward him, he brought the dagger to his own throat and with one swift jerk, drew the blade across his throat.

  Blood spurted from Warren’s neck as he fell back onto the bed. Though part of her was horrified at the sight before her, Rona forced herself to watch as the life seeped out of him. He twitched a few times, but in a matter of moments, he lay still, his good eye wide and unseeing.