At the edge of the lake, he stopped. The waters spanned out before him, past the castle rock, and into the great beyond, proving itself broad and distancing and making him feel small. Now the prize was his, and instinct told him that he needed to remember his father and Malcolm; all he had done had been for them.
He closed his eyes to take his memory back in time. But hesaw nothing familiar. No features he could remember, nothing but the shadows of two men.
What punishment was this? He could no longer conjure up their faces. When had that happened? How long had it been since he could see their features in his mind’s eye, since he could hear their voices in his head? He could not remember if or when he had tried. He massaged his brow and frowned, then swiped his hand over his mouth and chin, rough with beard.
The images were lost to him, and he understood like a fool does after acting the idiot that he had traded his memories of his father and Malcolm for the land. Their images were gone, wiped clean from his mind and memory. He had lost everything, and justified doing so by telling himself the greatest lie: all he had done, he had done for them.
His gaze went to the castle tower, where dim light shone vaguely from an arrow slit. As clear as a summer sky he saw Glenna Canmore walking regally up the stone steps and taking with her his lost soul.
Lyall could not breathe. He fell to his knees, his control gone. Suddenly all the air in his lungs had been stolen, then next…the blood in his veins disappeared, his bones felt brittle and dry as an old corpse. He was empty.
Dunkeldon was his but at what cost?
He knelt there taking long breaths and staring at the flickering, distant light in the tower, until he flung his head back and cried out, a sound that was like that of a lone wolf who lost its mate, a sound that echoed out over the water, into the ground under him and through his body, a cry that filled his throat and left it rough and scratched, and when he found his voice again, the words from his mouth were, “What have I done?What have I done!”
A moment later a knife pricked his throat as someone gripped his hair tightly in a fist. “It matters not what you have done because you are a dead man.”
24
The tower room door opened to the squeak of rusty hinges and the guard’s gruff voice. “I have your furs, my lady.” He stepped inside, and the grey cat rushed in between his legs. “You devil of a cat!” He tossed an armful of marten furs on the bed and grumbled, “That’s how she lost her tail, skulking through open doorways.”
The cat sat looking back and forth between them.
Glenna picked it up, scratching it under the chin. “Look at you…”
The guard was halfway out the door.
“Wait.” She stepped forward, holding out the cat for him.
He looked at her kindly and said, “You keep her, my lady…for companionship.” He closed the door on her protest.
“But—“ Her voice trailed off as the bolt slid into place. She groaned, then held up the cat and looked into its bright and curious eyes. “You are a problem.”
The cat blinked.
“You see, I have no plans to stay here.”
It’s expression changed to a sloe-eyed look of superiority.
“Such as it is. Whatever you are about, silly puss, you are stuck here in this tower. I, however, will not be.” She set it down,and the cat prowled over toward the table, leapt atop it, and sniffed at the cheese.
“Hungry are you?” Glenna unwrapped the cloth and pinched off a soft cheese piece for the cat, then wrapped up all the food, including the plums and tucked them inside the deep pockets of her trouse.
With her ear pressed to the door, she waited until she was certain no one was outside. She slid the knife in the thin gap between the door and lifted up… The bolt moved free from its slot.
Could her escape be so simple? She pushed the door open, peeking outside through a slim line of vision. One waning candle cast a pale amber light on the landing, which appeared empty. She opened the door far enough to step out and the cat rushed out and stood in the middle of the round room.
“Bugger!” she whispered sharply.
Facing her, the cat sat down, swished its tail, and stared at her, looking half bored and vaguely intrigued.
Glenna leaned out and hissed. “Come puss. Come here…”
The cat did not move.
She needed a bribe. Digging around in her clothes, she pinched off cheese from her stash and squatted down in the door, a cheese morsel in her open palm. “Come sweet cat,” she whispered sweetly. “Come to me…”
The cat eyed the cheese, blinked, and a heartbeat later took off down the dark stairs, leaving Glenna to stare at the empty spot where half of a grey tail had just disappeared. Muttering under her breath, she closed the door behind her.
