Breana stared up at him, leaning against the touch of his cold hand against her cheek. It gave her a surge of energy, a strange kind of internal peace that somehow also started her heart racing. "I…"
"Bravery is a woman who would abandon her new safety just tae ride out intae the night and save her sister. Nae matter the personal cost tae herself." Eoin leaned down and pressed his lips against her forehead. It was a soft, chaste kiss, yet it sentshocks through Breana's whole body, and part of her suddenly wondered what it would be like if she tilted her head upward and captured his lips with her own.
But she wasn't that brave. Not yet. "Thank ye," she said instead. "Let's get movin'. We've a lot of ground still tae cover."
As dawn broke, Breana expected that she'd feel exhausted, but she was more alert than she'd ever been as they arrived at the perimeter of the McKenzie lands. They'd spent the last few hours discussing with each other the various ways they could approach the castle without alerting anyone inside; she just needed to get close enough to Maeve to let her know about what had happened with the spy.
Eoin had scouted out ahead, and he hurried back toward her. Breana's rush of joy at seeing him again after such a short separation was short-lived, though, when she saw the expression on his face.
"What?" she asked as soon as he reached her behind the treeline where they were concealed. "What is it?"
"Guards," Eoin told her. He looked tense, and when she put her hand on his arm, Breana felt that his muscles were tight. "More of them than there should be."
Breana's stomach lurched at the anxiety in this usually calm man's voice. "What do ye mean? There are bound tae be guards, are there nae?"
"Nae like this. Nae this many, nae so active at dawn," Eoin replied. He ran his fingers through his hair, distress evident in his face. "Breana, this is more serious than I thought. It means…"
Breana looked out toward the castle, just beyond the trees, realization making nausea roil in her stomach. "It means…they might already be in danger."
7
"I thought I asked ye tae come alone," Murtagh McKenzie said in a laconic tone as the party stood before him. He was lounging on his grand seat, imposing himself over the great hall like a king on his throne.
The comparison disturbed Maeve more as she saw the way that Murtagh was looking at Cailean—at the man who he purported to respect as the real king. It was very obvious by the predatory gaze and the lack of respect in his voice that this was not at all the case. But if so, why would he be seeking a treaty? What could he possibly hope to gain? None of this made sense, and it made every nerve in Maeve's body stand on end as though her skin were on fire.
Cailean opened his mouth to answer, but Fergus spoke up before he could. Quiet, dependable Fergus spoke with such a tone of authority that it would have been hard for anyone to argue. "Chieftain McKenzie, ye must understand that a king has nae business movin' around without his retinue. He's chosen three of his warriors tae stay by his side, just as ye have yer warriors around us."
As he spoke, Fergus gestured at the walls, which seemed to teem with soldiers. Maeve's grip tightened on the handle of her knife as she observed them.
Murtagh gave a half-smirk that did not quite meet his eyes. "As ye say," he conceded. "Though why he would bring a wee lassie like that one amongst his group of trusted companions, I dinnae understand." His eyes glinted. "Unless she's a particularly favored bed warmer." He laughed. "Any man could understand that. We all keep a few."
Cailean's face blanched, and Maeve saw his fists clench in anger. She felt a surge of hatred toward McKenzie herself, but prayed silently that Cailean would not act. They must not respond to such easy taunts.
"I've come tae hear what ye wish tae say, McKenzie," Cailean said in a voice of forced calm. "I thank ye for yer hospitality, and I look forward tae hearin' about the alliance that ye wish tae offer. May we begin our negotiations?"
The smirk on Murtagh's face grew, and he nodded. Maeve studied him again, and realized she'd missed a person in her first survey of the room. At his side, in a small seat half-hidden in the shadows, sat Sorcha. The young woman did not look up from the floor, and she looked somehow even more downcast than she had when Maeve had spoken to her.
"Very well." Murtagh spread his hands in a pacifistic gesture of welcome, which felt to Maeve like a dangerous mockery of peace. "Let us speak, then. Ye have come tae me in response tae me letter that spoke of old alliances and new. I want ye tae ken that I meant every word that I wrote, and what's more, I intend tae provide ye with aid beyond yer wildest dreams."
Cailean wore a small, thoughtful frown on his face, but otherwise did not show any emotion. "How so? In what way can ye make such promises?"
"From the heart and from the pocket, yer Grace," Murtagh said. "If I may refer tae ye by such a title."
"Cailean is fine, or McNair if ye'd rather," Cailean replied coolly. Maeve was proud to see how Murtagh was failing to get any sort of rise out of him, no matter how much he tried. "If we are tae be allies, we shall negotiate on even footin'."
A small chuckle was Murtagh's only response to that. He went on as though Cailean hadn't spoken. "I have many friends across many clans, yer Grace. Many men who are undecided in their loyalties, or who have kept their true loyalties hidden for their safety and the safety of all in their clans. Now is the time for action. Now is the time that they'll rise tae the call, spurred by an alliance between ye and me—the lost prince returned, and the powerful chieftain championin' his cause."
Cailean did not speak, but it was clear to Maeve by the spark in his eye that the idea appealed to him. And no wonder. No matter how much Maeve distrusted McKenzie, what he said was true: many clans were beholden in one way or another to this one, and this alliance could turn the tide once and for all.
"We can join together and claim Scotland again, back where she's supposed tae be," Murtagh proclaimed, slamming his fist on the arm of his chair for emphasis. "We can serve as a powerful alliance, ye and I—and we can crush our common enemies underfoot."
"My interest lies nae incrushin', but inprotectin'," Cailean told him neutrally. "I have nae interest in a bloodthirsty alliance. Is this all I can expect from ye?"
"Thirst or not, blood will be shed. This is war, McNair, and ye ken it as well, if not better than I. But if ye're askin' for support once the fightin' is done: aye. Me clan's riches will be yer riches, and me men will be there tae aid ye as ye rebuild yer kingdom." Murtagh got to his feet, his eyes focused hard on Cailean. "Thisalliance will be for now and forever, whatever ye need from me and mine."
It sounded too good to be true, but Maeve dared not speak. It was not her place, not yet; if she spoke up, she would undermine Cailean entirely and make everything even worse. Instead, she carefully watched the man she loved, hoping he could feel that she was trying to lend him every bit of her strength.
"What," Cailean asked carefully, "would be the benefit tae yerself from such an alliance?"
