by Victoria Zak
He swung the chamber door open and walked Masie inside.
“Someone will fetch ye in the morn.”
“Please, I’ve done nothing wrong.”
He ignored her plea and locked her in.
Masie ran to door, bagging her fist on it. “Ye can no’ keep me in here,” she yelled.
When he didn’t reply, she spun around, taking in the small space. A cot took up one side of the room and a stone wall separated her from Adaira.
Masie called out, “Adaira!”
She didn’t reply.
“Please.” Tears streamed down her face. “I dinnae want to be alone.” She pulled her hands through her hair and spun around. It was getting hard to breathe.
In all her life, she’d never been separated from her sisters like this. She had to find a way out. The brute of a man had no right to treat them like criminals. For the love of goddess, she’d just saved the laird.
Masie took a fur from the cot and laid it down on the floor next to the wall separating her from Adaira. She curled herself into a ball, wrapping her cloak around her shivering body. She closed her eyes tight and thought of Adaira. Can ye hear me, Sister? She strained to communicate through mind-speak. It wasn’t long before exhaustion took over and she fell asleep.
Chapter Four
Laird Cormag watched as the vessel carrying his dead son’s body floated out to sea. Hard lines creased his face but he didn’t shed a tear. It wasn’t because he didn’t love his son. If he succumbed to the pain of losing his only child, it would be the death of him. Beathan Keith had a bright future.
Cormag thought the curse had ended with Helen’s death, but watching his son sail into the horizon awakened the demons he’d put to rest years ago. Aye, Helen’s curse on Dornoch was very much alive.
Everything about that woman irked him. He’d warned Doughall not to take another man’s wife—it came with grave consequences. But his words fell on deaf ears. It was impossible to get anything through his thick skull. The wench had driven an honorable man to madness and failed to give Doughall an heir. This was just the beginning. If his assumptions were right, Helen had seen a healer and took herbs to ensure she’d never have a son, further cursing the clan.
After her death, his comrade’s condition worsened. Plagued by visions of a dark fairy who came to him at night, Cormag had found Doughall on numerous occasions aimlessly walking the battlements and muttering to himself. It broke his heart witnessing his friend’s downfall, weakened to a shell of a man. But knowing there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it hurt the most.
Cormag gritted his teeth and balled his fists in anger. Out of respect for Doughall, he’d welcomed his daughters back to Dornoch Castle. And this was their way of showing gratitude, by killing his only son?
Nay, the curse will end.
A cold wind chilled him to the bone as he gathered his cloak closer to his body. He nodded to the archers waiting with their fiery arrows, indicating it was time to set the funeral ship afire. Five arrows streaked through the air, lighting up the gray sky. A deep gloom set in as he watched the vessel ignite.
As long as the Keith daughters were still alive he’d be cursed, his clan would live under constant threat, and his seat as Laird Keith would be jeopardized. He vowed to avenge his son. There was no doubt these girls were behind his son’s murder. Ever since the wenches had returned, things seemed amiss. They were different. He sensed evil and he should have put an end to it long ago. Bloody witches!
An image of Beathen flashed before him, pale and drained of all his blood. No normal beast or man would have been able to desecrate his body. It had to be the devil’s work. They’d burn for their sins. They’d burn to end the curse. They’d burn for his son.
“My laird.” A man stood next to him with his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Excuse the interruption. News has reached me about Doughall’s daughters.”
Cormag stared ahead as the flames disappeared over the horizon. “’Tis no’ the time, Hamish. I’m sending my son to God.”
“Aye. Please accept my deepest sympathy.” Hamish bowed. “But I have news that would interest ye.”
Cormag raised a black brow. “Continue.”
“My scout has spotted the Keith sisters,” Hamish informed. “They’ve been seen riding with Clan Gunn north.”
“How long ago?” the laird asked.
“Two days.”
Bile rose in the back of his throat. Treasonous wenches. All along they’d been plotting against their own clan. Did they think joining the enemy would secure their birthright to the Clan Keith seat? Nay, the wenches would hang.
“Send word to Laird Gunn. He’s to return the girls for questioning regarding my son’s death. I dinnae want a war. I want justice.”
Chapter Five
A sliver of sunlight beamed through Masie’s chamber causing her to wake. She sat up, quickly moving into the shadows. She felt weak from the lack of blood and must conserve what little energy she had left.
“Masie.” She heard her name faintly in her mind.
“Adaira?”
“Aye.”
“Oh, thank the gods! Are ye well?”
“I’m well.”
“How’s Leana?”
“I can no’ reach her.”
“The laird’s brother has promised us protection for what it’s worth.”
“His word means nothing to me. Masie, I promise ye, I will get us out of here.”
“I know.”
Her chamber door cracked open and Masie slowly stood, pressing her body against the clod stone wall, away from the sunlight. She searched the room for anything that could be used as a weapon. Unfortunately, she didn’t even have a chamber pot to throw at the intruder.
A man slipped in. “Commander Kerr has sent me to fetch ye and yer sisters. ’Tis time to break yer fast.”
“Ye can tell yer commander I’m no’…” Masie paused as a thought dawned on her. This was her chance to escape. She’d obey and find a way out.
Masie stepped out of the darkness. She eyed the man’s neck and smiled. “I’m famished.” Masie placed her hands in front of her, offering them peacefully to the man.
Cautiously, he tied a rope around her wrists, then pushed her out the door. Masie beamed as she saw Adaira and Leana waiting. Their hands were tied, too. He pushed Masie into Adaira. “Move, wench.”
Masie stumbled into her sister. “Adaira.”
“Aye.” Adaira gave her a knowing glance, telling her everything would be all right.
“Hold yer tongue,” the man spat, pushing the girls down the stairs.
Once inside the great hall, the massive room came alive. Trenchers banged together as people ate and chattered. Everyone was enjoying the company around them like one big family. Inside, Masie sighed, for she’d always wished for a family like this. Something slammed into her, almost knocking her over. A boy no older than five looked up at her. “Och, laddie, ye should watch where ye’re going.” Masie smiled.
“Edmund, come here.” His mother pulled the wee boy away, glaring at Masie as if she was the devil’s daughter. The woman and child scurried back to their table.
Her rope was tugged and she stumbled forward. The guard stopped at an empty table close to the kitchens and released her hands. Leana slid down the bench and Adaira followed. “Dinnea try anything daft. I’ll be watching ye,” the man warned.
Masie looked at Leana. She hadn’t been the same since that dreadful night. “Leana,” Masie whispered.
Her sister slowly turned.
“Are ye well, lass? Has anyone hurt ye?”
She shook her head.
Relief washed over her. She’d feared the worst, like Liam having his way with Leana.
“Something is amiss here,” Adaira said.
Aye, Masie felt it as soon as she walked in the hall. She could feel the clan’s scrutinizing glares. They knew they were the enemy.
“They’re no’ treating us like prisoners,” Masie said
. “Prisoners are kept in the dungeon and no’ allowed to eat wit’ the clan.”
“Aye, something is verra strange.”
A plump woman appeared and slammed a bowl of soup down in front of Masie. Oats spilled over the side. The aroma turned her stomach.
“’Tis all we have left.” The woman did the same to Adaira, then returned to the kitchen.
Masie pushed the gruel away.
“Masie, we have to try and fit in if we have any chance of escaping,” Adaira said.
“I will no’ eat this. I need something more.”
“I know, but we can no’ take unnecessary risks.”
Masie pulled the bowl in front of her and stared into the watery oats. She picked up her spoon and began to eat when she overheard two women talking two tables up. Normally, she could control the sensitivity of her hearing, but she was too weak. She could hear them as if they were talking in her head.
“I heard the Keith girls are witches,” said one woman.
“Aye, I can no’ believe Kerr would bring such sin into our clan.” The woman looked over her shoulder at Masie.
One was very young, perhaps of marrying age. Her light-brown hair hung past her waist and was twisted into a long braid. Her dress was dark blue and made from velvet. A noblewoman, Masie thought.
The lass sitting next to the brunette grabbed her arm, bringing the woman’s attention to her, “Dinnae stare long. Ye’ll turn to stone.” The women laughed.
Anger streaked up Masie’s spine. How dare they judge her and her sisters! God’s bones, she’d risked everything by healing the laird. She wasn’t a monster. The more she heard their callous laughter the more her hunger for blood surfaced. She set her eyes on the soft flesh behind the brunette’s ear. Before she knew what was happening, Masie’s fangs extended.
“Masie,” Adaira said, astonished by her sister’s actions. “Are ye mad?”
Masie shook free from her wicked thoughts and clamped her hand over her mouth when she realized what she had just done.
“Eat the gruel, Masie, and dinnae cause a scene,” Adaira warned.
Masie dismissed the urge to rip through the woman’s throat, but the anger was still there. She wasn’t going to allow such rumors to be spread so easily.
Masie stood.
“Masie, please sit down.” Adaira pulled on her arm.
“I can no’ allow some simple-minded eejit to get away wit’ spreading lies about us, Adaira.” She yanked free and ran her hands down the front of her dress, smoothing out the material as she strode over to the table.
The women looked at her wide-eyed as Masie stood in front of them with her hands planted on the table. She gazed at the blonde, who looked scared enough to wet herself.
“Ye know what I heard?” Masie asked.
The brunette shook her head slowly.
“I heard if ye look deep into their eyes, ye’ll see yer true soul staring back at ye.” Suddenly, Masie’s long, blonde hair changed into white, straggly strands, her face transformed into a wrinkled mask, and her hands changed into hooves.
Startled, the women leaned back and held their mouths to stifle their screams.
Satisfied she’d shut them up, Masie shook her head and retuned back to normal, leaving the women speechless.
“Ye should be careful who ye mock and spread rumors about.” Masie smirked.
Masie made her way back to her sisters. Adaira scowled at her.
“I told ye no’ to cause a scene.”
“I know, but—”
“’Tis time to get to work.” The same man who fetched them interrupted.
“I do no’ understand,” Masie questioned. “I need to see to the laird. I need to speak with Commander Kerr.”
“Ye’ll do as I say,” the man exclaimed.
He bound their wrists again and tugged them into the kitchen. “Miss Sinclair, these are Commander Kerr’s prisoners and are to be put to work.”
“Aye.” The plump cook eyed the girls. “It be my pleasure to show the lassies my kitchen.”
Masie looked around. Trenchers were piled high and the kettle in the center of the room was hanging over an open fire. It was plastered with oatmeal, and flies were swarming a barrel, with who knew what was inside.
“Fair one.” The cook pointed to Masie. “Ye scrub the cauldron. I believe ye’re familiar wit’ it,” she snickered.
“The rest of ye wash the trenchers. I need to prepare for the evening meal.” The cook waddled to a basket full of vegetables and began to clean and chop them.
Masie glared at the cook as she walked away. The gruel inside bubbled and popped. She wrinkled her nose. This was absurd. She didn’t deserve to be treated like a servant; much less a prisoner.
Through the rest of the morn and well into the late afternoon Masie tackled the black beast. She scrubbed, scraped, and vowed to never look at gruel again. After the kettle was clean, Miss Sinclair had ordered her to ready a fire for the evening meal. Masie shoveled the old ash out and replaced it with fresh wood. She needed more kindling.
“Miss Sinclair, we need more wood,” Masie informed the cook.
“Then go fetch it child. I’m busy.”
Masie saw an empty space in the corner where one piece of wood sat. “There’s only one piece left.”
The cook waved her off.
Not sure of her boundaries, Masie carefully opened the back door. To her relief, the sun was nowhere to be seen. Feather-light snow flakes fluttered from the sky, covering the ground in white.
“Dinnae try anything sneaky,” The cook called out. “Clan Gunn has eyes everywhere.”
Masie closed the door, thankful to be rid of Sinclair even if it was for a short time. She walked over to a woodshed, open in the front. “Of course there’s no wood.” She stood with her hands on her hips.
A stump and large chunks of wood were scattered on the ground next to the shed, as if someone had forgotten their chore. Frustrated, Masie picked up a chuck of wood and set it up on the stump. She grabbed the axe and wished a certain someone was around so she could tell him how she felt. She wasn’t a servant.
She lifted the axe over her head, letting all her anger and frustration out. Slamming the axe down, it splintering the wood. She repeated the effort. Not knowing her own strength and on the last strike she embedded the blade deep in the stump. She pulled and pulled on the handle trying to get it out, but it didn’t budge.
“Shite.”
She tried again, the damn thing was stuck. Frustrated, Masie picked up the hunks of wood and began to walk back to the kitchen. She stopped abruptly. Off in the distance, her attention was drawn to swords clanging together. Curious, she dropped the wood in the snow and followed the sound.
Inside the bailey, a man was training a lad to wield a sword. As she got closer and realized who the man was, all the pent-up anger came rushing back. It was Kerr.
Masie leaned her back against a tree and crossed her arms over her chest as she watched him swing his weapon through the air. She wasn’t leaving until she voiced her opinion. He had no right in keeping her here without cause. She needed to find a way to convince the laird to let them go. Masie studied him. There was no denying it, the man was a true warrior, carved by the god of war himself. He swung his sword, demanding the lad to fight back. Pure, raw strength radiated off him. He was firm with the lad, yet showed immense tolerance.
Kerr looked up, noticing her watching him. Their gazes locked for a moment and Masie’s cheeks heated. Caught by a wave of surprising desire, it felt as if she were drowning in his smoldering glare. Why was her body betraying her? With one look, Masie lost her will to fight. This man had taken her prisoner. She wanted to rip him limb-from-limb, but at the same time, he lit a flame deep inside her. A feeling she had no experience with.
“Laddie, always keep ye eyes on the enemy,” Kerr instructed as he watched Masie.
Masie couldn’t contain her laughter when the lad took advantage of Kerr’s distracted state and kicked him in th
e shin.
Surprised, Kerr dropped his sword and grabbed his leg. “Verra good, lad.”
Masie chuckled and wished it had been her doing the kicking.
Kerr retrieved his sword and rustled the lad’s hair. “We’ll work on yer stance tomorrow. I have business to attend to.”
The lad smiled. “Ye promise?”
“Och, ye question my word?” He playfully placed his hand over his heart.
“Nay.” The lad grinned and ran toward the armory.
Kerr began to walk in the opposite direction, which told her he was avoiding her. Masie ran after him.
“He looks like ye,” Masie said.
Kerr whipped around and she almost bumped into him. “Who?”
“The lad. He’s yer son, aye?”
“Nephew.”
“His mum must be verra proud.”
“Aye, she would have been if she was still alive.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“My sister was a fine woman. She died during childbirth. Her husband drank himself to death afterward. Being Rabbie’s guardian is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
“A child is a parent’s greatest accomplishment. Her memory will live on in him.”
“Aye.” Kerr exhaled and quickly changed the subject. “Why are ye here? Shouldn’t ye be in the kitchen with Sinclair?”
Appalled, Masie said, “It was ye who put me and my sisters on kitchen duty?”
“Would ye rather me put ye in dungeon wit’ the other prisoners?”
“Nay,” she bit back. “I want to speak to the laird.”
“Nay.” Kerr walked past her, heading to the castle.
“How long are ye going to keep us here?”
Kerr turned around and gave her a sideways glance. “As long as I wish.”
“’Tis no’ right.”
“Nothing is right during wartime.” She flinched when he wiped a smudge of soot from her cheek.
Masie’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t like the way her body reacted to his touch. “I have done nothing wrong. If I were a spy why would I have helped yer brother?”
