Someone was descending the winding stone staircase down into the dark, cold belly of the Keep.
One someone? Or two? Lindsay held his breath, listening intently.
Two, definitely two.
Lindsay’s stomach churned unpleasantly.
And then he heard the voice. Just a whisper, but discernible.
“I have his scent.”
The whispered voice wasfemale.Lindsay froze. He had not heard a female voice in years.
As the woman drew nearer, and the first tendrils of her scent began to reach his imperfect human nose, he realised... she was a wolf. And so was her companion.
Wolves.
A horrible, clawing fear rose in him. What did they want?
A low, terrified moan escaped Lindsay’s throat and immediately, the footfalls stilled.
Panicked now, he scrabbled backwards, naked buttocks scraping the cold, wet ground, till his knobbly spine pressed hard against the rough stone wall, making the raw welts on his back scream. He bit the inside of his cheek against the urge to cry out, his heart thundering.
More footfalls, slower this time, and the weak flickering light of an approaching lantern. Then, finally, someone rounded the last turn of the staircase and descended the remaining steps, pausing at the bottom.
Now he could scent her fully. She smelled of violets. For some reason, that made tears prick at the corners of his eyes.
Lindsay couldn’t make himself look at her, keeping his gaze downcast. He saw, though, that she wore boots and breeches, like a man. The boots were of the finest leather, black and supple, with glinting spurs at the heels.
“Nom de Dieu,” she whispered above him. “Look at the state of him.”
Another pair of boots appeared in his line of sight, older and less elegant. Lindsay shrank in on himself, stirring his chains to clank against the flagstones.
“Dear God,” the man whispered. He said it like a prayer, not a curse, his voice soft and filled with pity. Lindsay chanced a quick glance up.
The man and woman who stood before him looked like a pair. Brother and sister, perhaps? They were both pale-skinned and dark-haired and slender.
Meeting Lindsay’s wary gaze, the woman dropped to her haunches beside him, taking hold of his chin before he could dip his head again and hide his eyes. Her grip was surprisingly firm, and her gaze was very dark, black and glittering. Despite the silver collar encircling his throat, Lindsay felt his beast react to her. It quaked inside him, falling to its belly in submission. When he tugged his head out of her hold, she let him go, let him drop his gaze as he needed to, merely reaching out her hand to touch his downbent head. Her fingers were firm but gentle, stroking his matted hair.
Her touch was unbearably kind, and there was something powerfully necessary in it. He wanted to lean into her hand, but he shrank further back instead, pressing against the wall ever harder and turning his face away in shame.
“Do not fear,” the woman murmured. Her voice was soothing, but compelling. “Look at me, little one.”
She was not a big woman, in fact her frame was fine-boned and delicate. It should have been comical, her calling him “little one,” but it was not. Helpless to do other than obey her, Lindsay slowly turned his head back and lifted his gaze to her, his heart pounding.
“We have come to free you,” she said. “You can trust us.”
Lindsay swallowed against the hard, painful lump in his throat.
“What is your name?” she asked. When he stayed silent, she frowned and said, more urgently, almost sharply, “He has not removed your tongue, has he? Tell me, if you can.”
The order achieved what her coaxing could not. Compelled to reply, Lindsay opened his mouth. “L-l-” he began. Then, more determinedly, “L-Lindsay. My n-name is Lindsay S-Somerville.”
The woman smiled at him then, and it was a bright, dazzling smile that made Lindsay blink, as though he’d looked into the sun by mistake.
“Lindsay,” she repeated, her accent making his name new and exotic.Leen-zay. “You will come with us, Lindsay, yes?”
For a moment, hope blazed within him. In an instant, though, that hope turned to ashes. Duncan MacCormaic, his master, would never allow him to escape. If he so much as tried, the punishment would be severe. Unbearable. And he had already suffered so much. He could not bear it.
