by Annis Reid
Whenever she’d started to drift off, exhaustion getting the better of her in spite of her efforts to stay awake and on her feet, the pull on her shoulders had startled her into full wakefulness. There was no room for her body to sag even a little bit without her muscles tearing.
She licked her parched lips and remembered that she hadn’t had anything to drink since the feast, a day-and-a-half earlier. “I wasn’t sleeping,” she spat, raising her head fully so she could look him in the eye. “And you know it.”
“A shame, that,” Kirk chuckled. “I had a wonderful night’s sleep. Och, perhaps this evening can go better for ye. So long as ye agree to my wishes. Ye will give me what I want.”
“I told you, I can’t. Why don’t you get it over with and kill me already? The answer is never going to change.”
He shook his head, snorting. “Ye must be the daftest woman I’ve ever known, or the most stubborn. I canna say which.”
“You would know all about being daft,” she muttered. “Though I can think of a few words that would work better. Insane, maybe. Evil.”
“And ye would know about evil,” he replied, smiling. “Would ye not? Practicing yer witchcraft. Marking yer body. Yet ye lie to me, tell me ye know nothin’ of what ye must know.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” she sighed. “I don’t care anymore. Get it over with already. Find another witch.”
“I intend to, but that will not come for days. Kaden told me it could be a week before he returns.”
A week! Yes, he had told her the same thing. How was she supposed to live through this for an entire week?
Easy. She couldn’t. She would die even if Kirk didn’t deliberately kill her. She’d die without something to drink.
The jail was empty except for the two of them, something she had thought about during the night in a pathetic attempt at distracting herself. “Where are the prisoners?” she asked. “The Fraser prisoners. I thought you were keeping them here, in the jail.”
Kirk pursed his lips, and to her horror, entered the cell in slow, measured steps. “Aye, I did keep them here. At first.”
Damn her chin for trembling. “You killed them? You weren’t supposed to kill them. You were supposed to keep them and hold them until Malcolm Fraser agreed to your terms.”
“Terms?” He waved a dismissive hand, his barking laughter making her head hurt worse than ever.
Dehydration, she knew, and strain. It felt like it might explode.
“What do I care about terms now? I have two witches on my side. I can do anything. All that is left of them is their weapons.” He nodded toward the stash of bows, arrows, swords leaning against the wall.
He moved as suddenly as a snake leaping on its prey, taking her by the back of the neck and pulling her ever so slightly toward him.
She clenched her teeth, willing herself not to cry out in pain as her shoulders stretched and her arms pulled.
“A stubborn lass,” he muttered, looking her over with his crazy eyes. “Will not even cry out in pain when I know ye must be hurtin’. It doesna have to be this way, lass. I dinna ken what changed. Ye worked well with me, with my men. We could do great things together. Why do ye insist upon refusing me?”
Another pull, harder this time. Longer. She bit down on her lip this time, tears coursing down her cheeks the way so many others had since this nightmare started. But she wouldn’t scream. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he could break her down.
“Scream, damn ye,” he whispered, pulling harder than ever. The pain was too much. She couldn’t hold on anymore.
So she took a deep breath and screamed with all the force in her lungs, all the force she would’ve used if she were singing in front of thousands of people without a microphone. She let loose, fully and completely, practically belting a scream right in his face.
He let go, stunned, his mouth falling open. The sound still echoed around the room, loud enough that even she winced and she had been the one who did it.
“Loud enough for you?” she gasped through the waves of pain that threatened to leave her unconscious. The only thing keeping her alert and aware was knowing if she passed out, she’d slump down and cause even more damage.
He snarled, and she knew an instant before he raised his hand that he was going to hit her and it was going to hurt.
He did.
And it did.
Stars burst behind her eyelids when the back of his hand made contact with her cheek, pain exploding all across the side of her face.
Before she had the chance to fully register what had just happened, his hand was around her throat. “I will make ye pay dearly for that,” he snarled in her face, just inches away.
“Take. Your hands. Off her.”
It was a miracle. Like angels singing. The sound of Kaden’s voice.
Kirk stepped away, letting go of her, and she saw him standing in the cell’s open doorway. His massive fists were tight, hanging by his sides, his breathing like a bull ready to charge.
“What is this all about?” he growled, glaring at Kirk. “What have ye done?”
Kirk scoffed. “Ye were not supposed to return—"
“I returned early, and thank God I did!” Kaden bellowed. “What have ye done to her? Why have ye done it?”
“Ye dinna have the right to tell me what to do!” Kirk shouted. “Ye have overstepped yourself too many times, man, and I will have it no longer!”
“Ye have no right to hold this woman prisoner, to torture her so!” Kaden threw himself at Kirk, smashing one fist against his face. Blood spurted from the man’s now broken nose.
Even Anna knew that was serious. He had just struck his chieftain. There was no going back from something like that.
Kirk was stunned by this, slumping against the wall, holding a hand to his bleeding nose.
Kaden was by her side in an instant, unlocking the cuffs from her wrists. “Och, lass, forgive me for leaving ye. I ought to have known better.”
She fell against him, exhausted and hurting, but happier than she had ever been. He came back for her. He saved her.
“He wants your witch,” she whispered, looking up at him as he helped her from the jail. “He wants two witches.”
“He’ll not have her,” Kaden muttered. “I’ll be damned to hell before he takes my mam.”
“Your—” They stepped outside—he stepped, she just went with him as he practically carried her, and she saw in a moment that yes, the woman standing next to the horse was his mother. She was like the female version of him, only with long, greying hair. She even wore trousers, which probably was enough to scandalize just about anybody in those days.
The woman’s mouth fell open, and she took Anna’s other side in an attempt to help her stay on her feet. “Poor lamb,” she murmured. “Poor dear.”
“He was torturing her, the bastard,” Kaden snarled. “We have to get her out of here. Now. As quickly as we can.”
“The stones,” the witch said. “As we spoke of.” He nodded, and the two of them helped Anna to the horse. She was only dimly aware of what was going on around her and was only too happy to let them lead her wherever they wanted.
“Stop right there!” It was a voice choked with blood, but he sounded strong enough.
Anna looked over her shoulder and gasped in horror at the sight of the raised bow in Kirk’s hands, the bolt with the arrow at the tip.
Aimed at Kaden.
Kaden let go of her, turning to face Kirk. “Ye dinna wish to do this,” he murmured, hands raised. “Where did ye go wrong, man? This is not the man I know. Ye are better than this. Ye have led the clan all these years, and they have been happy years. Ye dinna need to destroy everything ye have built.”
“Destroy?” Kirk laughed. “I dinna intend to destroy anything. I intend to build it. Grander than ever, dinna ye ken? With two witches, I can do anything.”
“He’s crazy,” Anna whispered, not that she needed to. It was clear to anybody with eyes a
nd ears that he was a complete nutjob.
And he still aimed the arrow right at Kaden’s chest.
“Leave them be,” Kirk advised. “I will allow ye to keep yer life. What I will not do is allow ye to take what is mine.”
“They are not yours. Either of them.”
“We shall see,” Kirk snickered, his arm pulling the bolt further back.
She realized he was going to release it and a scream started to form in her chest.
“No!” Kaden’s mother screamed instead, throwing herself in front of her son and taking the bolt meant for him into her own chest.
Kaden roared like a madman, catching his mother in his arms and easing her to the ground.
Blood spread so fast across her chest, it was like magic. The tan tunic went deep red, almost black.
“Mam. Mam!” Kaden held her, smoothing hair back from in front of her face, kissing her forehead. “Why? Why did ye do it?”
Her eyes—just like his—were open wide, her forehead furrowing in pain. But she managed to laugh. “Ye need to ask me, lad?” she whispered. “Ye are my son, and always will be.”
The sound of pounding feet came from all directions. Anna clutched Kaden’s arm even as tears blurred her vision. But he wouldn’t move, not while his mother was alive.
“Son.” She pressed her clenched fist against the hand that stroked her head. “Take this.” He held her fist in his hand and came back with a stone she had been holding onto.
A stone with the Fehu rune carved into it. Anna gasped, forgetting the dire situation for a second. “It’s the same as the standing stone! The same as my tattoo!”
Kaden’s mother nodded, smiling faintly. “It is up to ye now,” she groaned, her voice getting weaker as her life drained away.
“What?” he whispered, staring at the stone before looking back at her. “What is up to me, Mam?”
“Ye must… carry on in my place…” she whispered, breathless. “I wish we had… more time, my love… my only…”
“Mam, dinna do this,” he begged, rocking her. “Please. Stay. Stay with me.”
Anna touched her forehead to his shaking shoulder, wishing she could do something to make it all stop.
“Remember what I told ye,” she breathed. “We never leave. Not truly. I will be…” She gasped, let out one final, shuddering breath, and then it was over. She went still, eyes staring up into her son’s face.
“Oh, nay, nay, please!” He held her close to him, weeping. Anna wept with him, for him and for his mother.
Kirk shouted orders. “This witch attempted to attack your chieftain after her son bloodied me,” he announced. “Take him. Lock him inside.”
“You can’t do that!” Anna screamed, standing. Staring at all of them. “He was going to kill Kaden, and she took the bolt instead! He wants to destroy you all by sending you off to fight for him and take land that doesn’t belong to him!”
“Lies from a witch,” Kirk sneered, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his arm. “As if anyone would listen to your lies, ye wicked thing.”
Kaden didn’t fight back when two men took his arms and pulled him to his feet. His mother hit the ground, eyes still open and staring lifelessly up into the sky.
Kirk went to Anna, taking her by the neck again. “What will it be, then?” he whispered close to her ear. “Will ye do as I say, or will ye join her? For I will do the same to ye, make no mistake about it. I will have what I want.”
Anna watched Kaden being led inside the jail, his head low, still devastated. He had gone against his chieftain for her, and now his mother was dead because of her.
The least she owed him was a chance at being free.
“Yes,” she said, raising her chin. “I will do as you wish, so long as you allow me back into your household. I will not be chained like a prisoner.”
Kirk chuckled. “I believe that can be arranged. I am in need of a woman to serve my… meals.”
No way would she let him see how this disgusted her. No way.
At the last second, before anybody noticed, she bent to pick up the rune Kaden had dropped when they took him away.
20
“Ye are wearin’ the garments ye wore when they brought ye to me.”
Kirk sure didn’t let a broken nose ruin his powers of observation. “I am,” she confirmed, setting a cup of mead in front of him. “I wanted to feel more like myself.”
“I dinna believe I ought to ask where yer garments were, and who cleaned them,” he snorted. “I can overlook such things when I need to.”
What a prince. She stepped back while he took a long drink of his mead. “There was also blood on my tunic.”
It was nice, seeing him wince even though he obviously tried to cover. “What of it?”
“I’m just saying. I wanted to change into something clean.” Something not caked in a dead woman’s dried blood. She shivered whenever she thought of it. Those staring eyes…
“For a witch, ye seem to care a great deal for whether ye wear clean garments.” He eyed her with suspicion as he looked up from the stew she placed in front of him.
“So what? I don’t like stinking the way you do. I don’t think that’s a crime.”
“Ye are using a verra unfriendly tone with me,” he muttered, sopping up gravy with a chunk of bread.
She poured more mead into his half-empty cup. “Yeah, well, I tend to feel unfriendly toward people who try to torture me into doing what they want.”
“It worked, though, did it not?” he laughed. The guy clearly thought he was the funniest thing in the world.
“Sure, it did,” she murmured. Let him believe what he wanted.
She watched him eat. The man was a slob—no wonder his tunic was always filthy, not to mention his beard. He probably could’ve picked enough food out of it to make a nice snack.
But that was okay. It was all okay. Maybe the rune in the pocket of her jeans was what gave her comfort and confidence she wouldn’t have felt otherwise.
Or maybe she knew it was time to get out of this place once and for all and didn’t care very much anymore what he or anybody else thought of her. Either way, she could bide her time and let things work themselves out.
He drained his cup before holding it out for more. “A man works up a thirst on a day such as this,” he muttered while she poured.
Her hands shook, but she managed to steady them before he noticed. Yes, she guessed a man would get thirsty after torturing an innocent woman, murdering another woman and locking a man up where he could do God only knew what to punish him for his broken nose.
And for standing up to him, which she knew was the real crime.
Kaden had to get away, that much was clear. Once she found a way to get him out of that jail, he could run off and live someplace else. He’d told her once that there were times when he wished he could live alone, away from everybody. Even away from the clan.
There would be no living in the clan anymore. Even his uncle had pleaded with Kirk on his behalf, but that had gotten him nowhere. She had the feeling Kirk already didn’t care for Clyde, so refusing him was sort of like killing two birds with one stone.
Kirk was definitely having a good day, and he drank like he was celebrating. She watched him lift the cup to his lips again and again, and kept it filled for him. It was her duty, after all.
When he dropped the cup, she breathed easier. What was left inside spilled across the table. He didn’t have time to grunt in surprise before the side of his face hit the table, too.
There was one more thing she’d hidden with her clothes.
Mistletoe berries.
“It probably won’t kill you, which is a shame,” she whispered, leaning close to him. He was breathing, all right. Slowly, shallowly, but he was alive. “I just need time to undo what you did, you pig.”
Anybody who might come across him would assume he’d passed out after drinking too much with supper. Let them think it, and let them leave him there.
So long as she had enough time to get Kaden free.
Her white tank wouldn’t do her any favors, for sure. She found a cloak hanging by the door and pulled it over her shoulders to help her blend in with the night. After that, it was a matter of sneaking outside and through the heart of the village.
It was supper for everybody, meaning most people were inside. Those who weren’t didn’t pay her any notice. She raised the cloak’s hood to hide her face. It seemed like the celebration had come to an end for good after word spread of the murdered witch and Kaden’s imprisonment for treason.
Treason. Somebody like him, accused of treason. Did the MacGregors have enough sense to know it just wasn’t possible? They had to know him better than that. He’d saved their necks during the battle with the Frasers, and probably in other battles before that. He was a good man, a man of honor and principle.
And courage. So much courage. Enough that he was able to turn his back on everything he had ever known just to save her. Men didn’t just randomly do things like that.
“Who is that? Who goes there?”
She panicked when a man called out to her. Should she stop? Should she run? Maybe just pretend she hadn’t heard him?
“I asked ye. Who is that, slinking about with their face hidden?”
He was going to give her away, the idiot. She stopped, turned, and found herself face-to-face with the one-eyed man. Was he friend or foe?
His eye narrowed, and a knowing smirk twisted his mouth up at one corner. “Och. So ‘tis yourself. What do ye think ye are doing out here, running about with yer face hidden so?”
It was time to stop playing nice with these idiots. “Shut up,” she hissed. “Unless you want Kaden to spend the rest of his short life locked away.”
“So that’s how it is.”
“That’s how it is,” she whispered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m on my way to see him.”
“To free him.”
“He deserves to be free.” If worst came to worst, she’d hit the guy until he left her alone, then make a run for it.
