Darren frowned, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Are there more of them comin'? Did someone escape? What?"
"Please, me friend," Cailean asked, exhaustion suddenly weighing down on him. It was late, and he was physically, mentally, and emotionally spent. He just needed to get this over with before his entire system gave out. "Please just go get yer da and the others. It's important."
He thought for a moment that his friend would argue, but Darren nodded. "I will. I'll tell them tae gather in the war tent; ye can meet them there. And I'll get Patty tae come and have a look at Mary. Even if it's just minor wounds…"
"We'll both see the healers after," Cailean replied. "For now, Maeve will stay with me. She needs tae be there when I meet the elders."
Darren frowned and folded his arms. "All right," he said. "I'll go, and ye can explain later. Just… answer me one question for now. Just one."
Cailean's voice was hoarse, but he owed his worried friend at least that much, he supposed. "Fine. Ask."
Darren leaned close, his voice almost a whisper. "Whois Maeve?"
* * *
Maeve sat outside the war tent, her jumbled emotions winding and weaving through her skin. Her body was exhausted, ready to collapse into a long sleep, but her mind was more alert than ever. Here in the ambient noise of the camp, she could at last concentrate on the pain in her injured arm, and she relished in it, because at least it was a distraction from the confusion inside her ravaged heart.
Cailean was inside talking to the elders, and he'd told her to wait here. Maeve hadn't argued, but as she waited, she saw many a familiar face walk by and stare at her with open, unguarded curiosity. What were they thinking, she wondered? Were they filled with awe that she and Cailean had faced down a small attacking force and won? Were they suspicious of her? She didn't know what Cailean had said to Darren, and she didn't know how much of it could possibly have spread in such a short amount of time.
It was late, but it seemed that the whole camp was awake, holding its breath as if in anticipation of what was to come next. Maeve wondered that too. Was this the end for her? It could easily be it; the last moments she'd have of this place that had become her home.
A familiar face wove through the crowd, and Maeve saw Ferda staring across the field at her. She must have returned from the scouting mission early. She held up a hand and waved to her friend, but Ferda did not wave back, just watched her. From this distance, it was impossible to tell the expression on the scout's face.
Before Maeve could think about it more, the flap of the tent opened behind her, and there stood not Cailean, but Senan, staring down at her with a severe look in his eye.
"Mary," he greeted. "Or whoever ye are. Come in. I think we all need tae have a long talk."
17
Chapter Seventeen
Maeve sat on the small chair, her pulse racing, her throat dry, as she listened to Cailean recount the events of the day to the gathered elders. It was so strange to hear him talk about their visit to the blacksmith. It felt like it had been weeks ago, not only a few hours. She did notice that he didn't mention the pin as part of his story, though she didn't have time to wonder too much about it now. Her eyes flicked between the faces of the four elders, apprehension freezing her in place as she tried to read their reactions.
"So when the attack was announced, Mary—Maeve—fled? Right away?" Hamish asked Cailean after he reached the part where Arthur had entered the tavern with the warning.
"Aye," Cailean replied. He glanced at Maeve and added, "Though in all fairness, nae part of me believes she was tryin' tae simply escape. I believe she had it in her head tae lead the Darach men away from the village and the camp. She rode right toward them."
Maeve was surprised by the evenness and fairness in Cailean's tone. Any personal complicated feelings he might be having were hidden, and instead he spoke frankly and honestly. She hadn't been sure he'd believed her when she'd claimed she was trying to save the rebels, and for the first time, a flicker of hope appeared in her stomach.
"And ye followed?" Ewan prompted.
"I had nae idea why she left the way she did. I wanted tae ensure she was safe," Cailean replied. Guilt curled in Maeve's stomach at this, but Cailean didn't even look at her as he continued. "I made sure that someone was able tae alert the rebels, and I got on me horse and pursued her. I didnae think, I just…" he trailed off. "I did what I thought was best."
Kier cleared his throat. "I understand well what ye were thinkin', lad," he said, in a way that Maeve didn't quite understand but that seemed to embarrass Cailean a little. "Dinnae look so grim. I would have done the same. So ye followed her, and presumably ye saw her approach the camp?"
Cailean shook his head. "I was too far behind. By the time I caught up, the Darach men were already in pursuit of her. I heard them shoutin' about capturin' the woman, tauntin', screamin', all sorts of terrible things. I pushed me poor horse tae his limits tae catch up, racing along the path toward them, but I wasnae close enough until they'd already disappeared behind the tree line."
He paused, looking troubled.
"Go on, lad," Kier encouraged.
"I saved her. I killed the men who were attackin' her, and Maeve picked up a weapon and fought alongside me. We fought until we'd killed every last one of them."
Images of the dead men filled Maeve's mind once more and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block them out. She did not want to dwell on the deaths. Even though she'd had no choice, even though Cailean had given her some comfort, it still hurt to think about.
Cailean kept talking, gruffly but briefly describing the truths that Maeve had revealed to him in the woods, and each of his words was like a blow of guilt and shame to Maeve's stomach.
When she opened her eyes again, she caught the eye of the one person who had not spoken yet, the one person she'd been avoiding. Senan was watching her with an intensity she'd only seen on his face once before, and it made her shiver.
