“He is my brathair,” she said, sniffing back her tears.
“He is?” Fia put her arm around the girl and pulled her closer. “Alastair told me he had a brathair but said nothin’ about havin’ a sister, too.”
“That’s because we have different mathairs.”
“I see,” said Fia, reaching out and wiping a tear from the girl’s cheek. “What is yer name?”
“I am Caitlin. And I miss my faither.”
“Oh, that’s right. Yer faither is Alastair’s faither who is imprisoned by the Grants.”
“What is yer name?” she asked.
“I’m Fia. Fia Douglas.” She decided not to tell her right now that her mother was a Gordon. It might make the girl even more fearful if she knew the Gordons and the Grants were aligned.
“Are ye a friend of my brathair?”
“Hah!” she spat, meaning to tell her she was his prisoner. Then, she realized that would be no way to gain the girl’s trust. She wanted to help her, not scare her away. “I guess ye could say that. For now, at least. Tell me, why are ye hidin’ in the garden and why havena I seen ye in the great hall?”
“Alastair doesna like me, so I try to stay out of his way.”
“I canna believe anyone wouldna like a sweet lass like ye.”
“He blames me for his mathair leavin’.”
“Oh,” she said, understanding this now. Alastair’s father had an affair, and his mother must have found out about the bastard child. That was why she left. “Where is yer mathair?”
The girl wiped away more tears. “She died givin’ me life, and I have no siblin’s. My faither was the only one who ever cared for me. But since he’s been gone, I feel so alone.”
“Well, ye are no’ alone as long as I am here.” She pulled the girl to her feet. “I am goin’ to be yer friend, Caitlin.”
“Ye are? But we just met.”
“It doesna matter. I can tell ye have a guid heart and that ye need a friend and that is enough for me.”
“Thank ye, Fia.” The girl actually smiled.
“That’s better now, isna it?”
“Fia? Fia, where are ye?” bellowed Alastair from the entrance to the garden.
“It’s Alastair,” said the girl, fear showing in her eyes. “He will be angry if he kens ye are my friend.”
“I dinna care,” she said, patting Caitlin on the shoulder. “Leave him to me. He is already mad at me so it willna matter.”
“Fia, there ye are.” Alastair walked up and stopped in his tracks when he saw her with Caitlin. “Caitlin, what are ye doin’ here with Fia? I thought I told ye to stay in yer chamber.”
“It’s a beautiful day, and no one should be confined to their chamber, nor the dungeon,” Fia boldly interjected.
“The dungeon?” asked Caitlin in surprise.
“Aye. Alastair put Niven in the dungeon and has condemned him to die in the mornin’.”
“Ye are goin’ to kill Niven?” Caitlin’s eyes filled with tears. “How could ye be such a monster? If faither were here, he would stop ye.” Caitlin ran from the garden crying.
“Caitlin, wait,” called out Alastair, but the girl kept on going.
Cerberus thought it was a game and ran after her.
“Cerberus, leave her be,” shouted Alastair, causing the dog to stop and turn and run over to him instead. He lunged for Alastair, but he stepped aside. Instead of hitting him, the dog barreled into Fia, knocking her to the ground. The hound started licking her face.
“Nay. Get off of her, ye mangy mutt!” Alastair yanked the dog off of Fia, but Cerberus still thought he wanted to play.
Fia got up and brushed off her skirt, not minding that the dog did that, but it seemed to upset Alastair.
“Go on, get out of here,” said Alastair, touching the dog to push it down every time it jumped up and put its paws on his shoulders.
“Sit, Cerberus,” Fia commanded. The dog sat at her feet. Alastair looked at the hound and shook his head in disbelief. “Guid dog,” she said, pulling a piece of dried meat from her pocket and petting Cerberus on the head. “Now, go on and play.” The dog saw a squirrel and took off across the garden kicking up dirt on Alastair as it left.
“Let’s go,” he said, directing her with his hand at her back.
“Where are we goin’?”
“Somewhere – anywhere where the hellhound canna find us.”
Alastair led her to the mews and entered, closing the door behind them.
“Where are all the birds?” she asked, looking around to see that the place was empty.
“I no longer have falcons since my faither is gone. They take a lot of care and are expensive. I am no’ in residence often enough to care for them, so I sold them.”
The sunlight streamed in from between the cracks in the walls, giving just enough light to see each other. “Ye are a spy, and that is why ye are no’ here often. Am I right?”
“What difference does it make?”
“I’m curious.”
He sat down on a wooden bench, picking up a piece of straw and twirling it in his fingers. “Aye, I am a spy from the Highlands, though I wasna always.”
“Well, I ken ye were a spy three years ago when I first met ye in the woods.”
“Aye. That was just after my faither was captured and I took over as laird. The clan was restless. I thought if we traveled they would be far more apt to stay together. No’ all of them wanted to follow me.”
“Like Rhodric and Brohain?”
“Aye,” he admitted. “Rhodric and Brohain are older and dinna like followin’ someone so much younger. I kent they’d be trouble, so I volunteered my clan to be spies for our country, comin’ over the border to find out the plans of the English.”
“It’s a risky task,” she said, sitting down on the bench next to him.
“I figured it would bide me time until I figured out how to free my faither.”
“I see why Caitlin is so upset. After all, that is her faither, too. Why dinna ye like her?”
His head snapped around, and his brows dipped. “Who said I dinna like her?”
“She did.”
“Well, that’s a lie.”
“Really? Then why do ye tell her to stay in her chamber? And why didna ye mention to me that ye even had a sister?”
“She’s a half-sister. That is different.” He threw down the straw and wiped his hands on his plaid. “I tell her to stay in her chamber to protect her.”
“Protect her?” Fia laughed. “From what? Ye? After all, she is inside the castle walls.”
“Ye dinna understand. Caitlin is like an orphan. After her mathair died givin’ birth, she was a baby raised by servants. My mathair left when she found out, and my faither hardly ever paid any attention to Caitlin.”
“Neither did ye.”
His eyes lifted to hers. “Would ye, if ye were in my position? She is the reason my mathair left. My heart aches every day, as I long to see her again.”
“Where did she go?”
“No one kens. I think she went back to her home from childhood.”
“I’m sorry,” said Fia. “But ye canna blame Caitlin for yer mathair leavin’. She is just a victim of circumstance.”
“That’s no’ the way I see it.” He stood up and paced the floor.
“Mayhap ye should try to be kinder to her. After all, ye are both sired by the same man.”
“Dinna tell me what to do.”
She stood as well. “Does no one mean anythin’ to ye, Alastair MacPherson?”
“What do ye mean?” he asked, as if he were clueless as to what she meant.
“First ye shun yer own sister, and then ye condemn yer best friend to death, accusin’ him of doin’ somethin’ he didna do.”
“Ye dinna ken that. Or do ye ken what happened to the crown?”
“Stop it, Alastair,” she said, getting very upset with his obstinate behavior. “We arena talkin’ about the crown. I am referrin’ to somethin’ that i
s much more important than a piece of metal.”
“What do ye mean?”
“I am talkin’ about feelin’s for those people who mean somethin’ to us in our lives. I am talkin’ about love – somethin’ ye just canna seem to understand.”
“Love makes a man weak,” he told her, continuing to pace. “And what I do is none of yer concern.”
“Is that right? After all, I am yer prisoner to be traded away like naught more than an object. Well, let me tell ye, Alastair MacPherson, ye are a cold, cruel man to treat people this way. I thought our kisses meant somethin’ between us, but now I see it was only part of yer plan to benefit yerself. Everythin’ is all about ye. I am tired of it. Ye need to think of others for a change.”
“I am thinkin’ of others. How can ye say that? I do things in the best interest of my entire clan.”
“Do ye?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is it for the better of yer clan that ye shun yer sister and condemn an innocent man to death?” She turned and headed toward the door.
“Fia, wait!” he called out from behind her, but she didn’t stop. “Ye dinna understand.”
“Nay, I guess I dinna, and never will.” She stopped with one hand on the door and tears filling her eyes. “When ye saved my life, I thought I owed it to ye to save yers in return. But now I see it was a mistake. Had I kent I’d be in this position, I would have left ye to bleed to death in the secret garden and never batted an eye.”
Fia ran from the mews, wanting to be alone, wishing more than anything to be back with her sister and cousins once again.
She entered the stables and threw herself down in the hay of an empty stall. Feeling weak and helpless, she cried herself to sleep.
“Fia, you need to concentrate,” said Imanie, snapping her fingers in front of Fia’s face. “Don’t let situations and hardships distract you.”
A cloud surrounding Fia diminished and Imanie came into full view.
“Imanie, ye’re alive,” said Fia, not understanding how this could be.
“No one can consider themselves alive when they are only going through the motions of life and doing nothing about it.”
“I dinna understand.” Fia wasn’t sure if this was a dream. But if it was a dream of the past, she didn’t remember Imanie ever telling her this before. “Am I asleep?”
“You are asleep as well as everyone else who considers themselves a victim of circumstance.”
“Are ye talkin’ about the fact I am Alastair’s prisoner and canna escape?”
Imanie rolled her eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Did you learn nothing at all during our training sessions these past three years?”
“Imanie, ye ken I did. I learned how to read people and how to notice things that others dinna.”
“Aye, you have the ability, but yet when you are around Alastair, it seems all sense flies out of your head.”
She looked to the ground and blushed. “I suppose ye are right in sayin’ that. Alastair intrigues me, yet he angers me at the same time.”
“Then do something about it, Fia.”
Fia’s eyes snapped upward. “Me? What can I do? I am naught but a prisoner.”
“And so is Niven.”
“Niven doesna deserve to be imprisoned.” She shook her head. “I dinna want him to die for a crime he didna commit.”
“Then take control of the situation. That’s what I am trying to say.”
“What can I do?”
“What can’t you do? You were smart enough and brave enough to send the crown to Richard to try to stop a war. So, don’t tell me you are going to sit back and do nothing as injustice is carried out right inside the castle walls.”
“I canna tell Alastair I was the one who took the crown.” Guilt ate her up from the inside. “No’ yet. Once I find out what happens with the battle, then I’ll tell him.”
“Will you?”
“Imanie, ye ken as well as I do that this is the only chance to save the lives of so many Scots as well as English. My own faither’s life is at stake, as well as the lives of my uncles. I will no’ stand by and do nothin’ to change things. I had to do somethin’ – I had to try.”
“There you go. That is exactly what I mean.”
“Do ye mean I should try to sway Alastair’s decision?”
“No one can change a man’s decision but himself. Or so he thinks.” Imanie smiled. “Isn’t that the root of the training for those in the queen’s secret group?”
“That’s right,” said Fia, feeling awful that she let the situation come to this. “When Queen Philippa didna want the burghers of Calais to die, she talked the king into sparin’ their lives.”
“Every situation is different, Fia. Alastair is a proud man who is looking to restore the clan’s faith in him as well as rescue his father. He will not be swayed easily. It will take time.”
“We dinna have time,” she told Imanie. “Niven is supposed to die at sunup. I have to do somethin’ now – tonight.”
“Then do it,” said Imanie, fading into the cloud and disappearing.
Fia’s eyes popped open, and she sat up straight to find she was still in the stable. She needed to get to the dungeon to save Niven. If there wasn’t time to change Alastair’s mind, then she had to help the poor lad escape. But there was a guard at the dungeon door that would never let her enter. Nay. She needed help to do this, and there was only one person she could think of who would go against Alastair.
Jumping up and brushing the hay from her gown, she took off at a run to start her plan in motion.
Chapter 15
Fia hid in the shadows of the courtyard with Caitlin that evening, waiting for the opportunity to sneak into the dungeon to help Niven escape.
“Here comes Alastair,” whispered Caitlin.
Alastair emerged from the door that led to the dungeon, talking with Fearchar. Fia couldn’t hear what they said, but she saw Alastair rub his eye.
“He doesna even feel remorse that he put Niven in the dungeon,” spat Caitlin. “How can he be so heartless?”
“Perhaps we’re wrong,” said Fia.
“What do ye mean?”
“I mean, his words say he thinks Niven is guilty, but I am no’ so sure anymore. He rubbed his eye, so there is somethin’ he doesna want to see.”
“Hrmph,” sniffed Caitlin. “He probably doesna want to see how mean he is toward others.”
“Alastair doesna seem to want to hurt anyone intentionally,” Fia observed. “Still, he did condemn Niven to death, so mayhap I am wrong. Are ye sure ye can distract the guards so I can sneak in and talk to Niven?”
“Of course, I can. Just watch.”
As soon as Alastair left, Caitlin emerged from the shadows and went right up to the door leading to the dungeon. Fia watched as she talked to the guard, pointing up at something on the battlements. When the guard stepped out and walked over to look where she pointed, Caitlin gave Fia a quick nod of the head. This was her cue.
Fia hurried, sneaking through the dungeon door and down the stairs to the cells far below. It was dark and wet, and she almost slipped twice. One lone torch emerging from the wall cast enough light for her to see that all the cells were empty except one.
“Niven?” she whispered, seeing her breath in the cold air. She heard the sound of water dripping from overhead.
“Fia? What are ye doin’ here?” came Niven’s voice.
She ran to the cell, stopping in shock when she not only saw the door open but Niven inside gnawing on a roasted chicken leg with Cerberus sitting at his feet, begging. There were tapestries on the floor for warmth, a bed with a thick down blanket, and a feast spread out on the table that included stuffed rabbit, roasted chicken, honeyed mead and even sweetmeats.
“I think the question is . . . what are ye doin’?” She stepped into the cell looking around.
Cerberus hurried over to greet her.
“I – I’m a prisoner,” said Niven, throwing the chicken leg to the dog and w
iping his hands on his plaid. He stepped in front of the table to try to hide the food.
“I’m no’ blind,” she spat. “What is goin’ on here? I am sure this isna the way Alastair treats his condemned prisoners that are to be executed in the mornin’.”
“Would ye believe it’s . . . a last meal?” he asked sheepishly, raising his brows.
“With the door open and the laird’s hound at yer feet? No’ likely. Now, tell me what is goin’ on.”
“Oh, all right,” he said, plopping down atop a wooden stool. “I’m no’ really a prisoner, but ye canna tell Alastair ye saw me or he will be furious.”
“I dinna understand. Why would ye two try to deceive everyone this way?”
Cerberus whined and hunkered down, wagging his tail and waiting for Niven to throw him another scrap of food. When he didn’t get anything, the dog started gnawing on the leg of the stool instead.
“I’m supposed to keep it a secret,” Niven explained. “Alastair thinks ye had somethin’ to do with the disappearance of the crown and he wants to flesh ye out.”
“He does, does he?” Fia crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.
“Fia, did ye have somethin’ to do with the missin’ crown?” asked Niven. “Because I would hate to think ye did and didna say anythin’ and were goin’ to let me go to my death.”
Fia suddenly felt horrible. In trying to protect so many, she did something that might have ended in the death of an innocent man. Still, she couldn’t tell Niven. If she admitted she took the crown, she would have to include Lorraine and others in the story. That wouldn’t be right to endanger their lives when they already were at risk trying to help her.
“I wasna goin’ to let ye die,” she explained. “I came down here to set ye free.”
“Then ye didna have anythin’ to do with the disappearance of the crown?”
“I think at this time it is better if I didna answer that.”
“Ye had better say somethin’ to Alastair about it. If ye dinna, he is goin’ to have to execute me in the mornin’.” Niven got up, walked over and collapsed atop the bed, grabbing an overstuffed pillow, holding it to his chest.
“I highly doubt he will do that. But just the same, dinna say a word about me bein’ here.” She turned to go and saw the dog eating the food off the table. “Cerberus, nay!” She clapped her hands, scaring the dog.
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