Ansel stumbled, falling to his knees. The pain from his wounds was almost unbearable. Two of his men hurried over to help him up.
"Do we follow, Yer Highness?" one of them asked anxiously.
"Nay," Ansel grunted, allowing them to pull him back to his feet. "We get back tae Nessa, and we go and report what has happened tae me father."
The two men exchanged looks, obviously uneasy, but nodded. Ansel clenched his fists, trying to clear his mind and ignore the pulsing pain. He set his eyes toward the hill, knowing that what was coming would not be pleasant—but he still had a role to play.
The first thing Ansel spotted was Wullie's body. He stared at the dead man, uncomprehending for a moment, then cast his eyes over the other still figure. As he watched, Ruadh stirred, and Ansel lurched toward him, kneeling at his side.
The young man's eyes fluttered open, then dilated in fear. "Yer Highness," he said. "Forgive me."
"What happened?" Ansel asked roughly. "Where is Nessa?"
"I was attacked—attacked from behind," Ruadh stammered. "I didnae see it comin'. I dinnae ken…I…"
Ansel closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. "Where is Nessa?" he repeated.
Ruadh didn't answer.
It didn't matter. Ansel waved one of his men over to help him up. "Look after him," he said, nodded to Ruadh, then peered out into the distance. Whoever had taken Nessa—whoever had successfully distracted him enough to steal her away—was long gone. It didn't take much thought to work out where she was taken. He'd encountered Maeve just over a month ago when the rebels had reclaimed McNair Castle, and now—now she had taken her sister back, too.
His blood was boiling under his skin. Neala would be there to greet her. Cailean McNair had taken everything from him. Everything.
"Ye've lost her, then," Nicol said. "Me king will nae be happy. I kent this would happen. Ye show too much mercy. It's a cowardice—nae wonder they managed tae surprise us."
Ansel stared at the man. "Cowardice?" he growled. "Strong words from a man who retreated while his brothers died around him."
Nicol stiffened. "I serve me king. I needed tae return tae him, nae die in a pointless ambush."
Flames licked at the sides of Ansel's temples. "Ye serveme!" he snarled. "Ye are undermecommand. Ye are a traitor!"
Nicol made a dismissive sound. "Ye are a spoiled prince afraid of bloodshed in the name of glory."
Ansel gripped the pommel of his sword. "Ye want bloodshed?" he asked. "Draw yer weapon."
"Yer Highness…" Ruadh whispered.
Ansel ignored him. "Do it, man."
Nicol scoffed and drew his own sword. "Ye wouldnae dare," he said. "I am a favorite of the king's. I am?—"
The rest of his words were lost as Ansel pounced, his rage a cloak of flame around him. The screams echoed down through the valley and seemed to pulse through the world.
Chapter Nine
Ansel walked stifflyinto the throne room, trying his best not to let the pain from his shoulder and back show in his stance or on his face. He would need to get the wounds tended to and soon, or he would risk the chance of infection. However, his father had summoned him directly to the throne room, and Ansel knew better than to delay.
As he reached the doors, he saw Baldric nearby in the corridor. He was stooped over in deep, intense conversation with the second cook, Elspeth. Ansel briefly wondered what they were talking about—his cousin seemed to spend all of his time with that cook these days. She was about ten or fifteen years older than them, and of course a completely common woman, but could she be Baldric's lover? It was unlikely, but Ansel couldn't think of any other reason. He would never ask, though. None of them had much privacy within the castle walls, and he would grant his cousin at least that secret.
Baldric looked up as Ansel passed and gave him a questioning look. Ansel shook his head, though he appreciated the implicit offer of company. Whatever it was that his father planned to do to him, he'd face it alone. The last thing he sawbefore he entered the throne room was Baldric's face creased in worry.
The doors thudded closed as Ansel entered the room. Edric was lounging on the throne, completely alone, simply waiting for him. He kept his eyes on Ansel, not speaking at all, until Ansel moved close and knelt with his head bowed.
"Yer Majesty," Ansel said. "I assume ye've received the report?"
"I have," Edric replied. "Stand up."
Ansel did, wincing.
