Hamish nodded. "Aye. And Neala's assured us that Ansel Ashkirk isnae the demon he's been made out tae be. Even Maeve's agreed tae wait, we all did. We ken the false prince is nae an ally, nae by any means, but it seems based on what the princess has assured us, he's nae gonnae hurt anyone without cause. Aye, he'll need tae be defeated, but he's nae an active threat. So long as this is true, we've already agreed?—"
Darren cleared his throat. Everyone else fell silent, turning to him. "I'm sorry," he said. "But there's more I need tae tell ye."
Something caught Neala's stomach in an iron grip and bile burned the back of her throat. Whatever Darren was about to say, she knew that she didn't want to hear it.
"Speak," Cailean told him. "Ye asked for a map. What was it ye wanted tae show us?"
Darren's expression was serious again, so much so that he looked like an entirely different person. He jabbed a spot on the map with his finger, then reached for a piece of charcoal that was in the center of the table.
Neala leaned closer to see, and several of the others did the same.
"Clan McIntyre," Ewan said. "What of them? Laird McIntyre is already sworn tae us. He returned only recently tae gather more of his clansmen for the cause. They're a wee clan, but strong."
Darren shook his head and drew a thick cross over the area.
Neala gasped in a breath that felt like a knife.
"They're gone," Darren said quietly. "They raised our banners, Cailean—and he destroyed them. Laird McIntyre and his whole family are gone. The whole clan is gone."
Then he drew three more crosses over three more areas on the map. After a pause, he drew a circle around one more area.
"Clan McFall. Clan Mullen. Clan McCabe," Hamish said, studying the map with horror in his eyes. "All of them?"
Cailean swore, slamming his fist down on the table. "I feared this would happen. I warned them! I told them tae be subtle! I told them he'd come for them if they didnae take care! He's the devil made flesh. Those men?—"
Darren sounded sick. "Each attack has grown more brutal, and Clan McIntyre was hit the worst," he said. "It wasnae just the men. It was the women. Bairns, too. They attacked in the night—it was a mass execution. There were a few scattered survivors from the other clans, a few who managed tae run, but there's nothin' left on McIntyre lands but ghosts and ashes."
Pain pulsed behind Neala's eyes as a headache threatened to overwhelm her. She didn't want to ask, didn't want to know, but the words slipped out before she could stop them. "Is the False King himself leadin' the attacks?"
"Of course he isnae," Eoin snarled. "He wouldnae concern himself with the deaths of peasants."
Darren nodded. "Edric Ashkirk hasnae left Blackthorn Castle in a long time," he replied. "But his son is leadin' the charges against these clans. Ansel Ashkirk has been at the front of everyattack—every massacre—and he's shown nae sign of stoppin'. Nae sign of mercy."
Neala sank back into her seat. It couldn't be true. There had to be some mistake. Women? Children? Unarmed men in their beds? She remembered the horror in Ansel's eyes as she'd forced him to recall how his father had slaughtered the people of Broken Windmill. Could he really be doing such things in turn? Had she been so utterly fooled—so completely wrong about him? She could not believe it. She wouldn't. She felt Breana's eyes on her and shrank back against the silent accusation.
Maeve jumped to her feet. "There! Now we ken it. Nae matter what he did tae Neala tae make her say such things, he's shown himself now. Do ye expect me tae leave me sister there? Do ye expect me tae leave Nessa in the hands of a true monster? She's trapped in Blackthorn Castle while he?—"
"Nay," Darren said. "She's nae in Blackthorn Castle. Word has it she rides with him through each and every one of the attacks. She stays back and watches the slaughter."
Breana let out a despairing cry and Eoin held her close. Maeve went pale and slowly sat back down. Neala, meanwhile, felt like her heart had stopped beating.
Cailean's face was like thunder, his grey eyes swirling with the darkness of the storm. He caught Neala's gaze, and she felt it there—the strength of her brother. The power of a king who would no longer allow his people to suffer.
"Enough is enough," he said, his voice eerily calm. "We act now. We cannae attack Blackthorn Castle yet, but neither will I leave me sister-in-law in their grasp for one more moment."
"And if she's on their side?" Ferda demanded. Both of the sisters glared at her, but she did not shrink back. "I'm sorry, but we must acknowledge the possibility. Maeve, Breana, ye'vebothtold us how yer sister was always yer father's pet. Now we learn that she's accompanyin' that demon tae slaughter bairns. Whatwill ye do if we return her here and she's nae more than a pawn of the False King?"
A pawn. Neala thought of a game of chess, long clever fingers manipulating the pieces, and her eyes filled with tears that she refused to let fall.
Maeve swallowed, but a cold determination filled her voice when she answered. "We will bring her back here. We will give her the chance tae understand, just as Breana and I were both given that chance."
"As was I," Eoin said roughly. "I, who committed crimes in the name of me father under the orders of the False King, have been forgiven. As have many of those who are now our finest warriors and allies. We must at least give Nessa a chance."
"Ye never did anythin' likethis," Ferda argued. "It's nae the same."
"It's exactly the same," Breana replied in that same soft voice. "Nessa will be rescued and given her chance. And if she proves tae be loyal tae our father—and tae the False King—then she will be imprisoned and face justice the same way as any other."
"And if she needs tae be dealt with permanently?" Senan asked. His eyes were on Maeve, a strange expression there. "Could that lass I rescued from an inn do such a thing?"
