They'd kissed before, but this was the first time they were doing it just for them—just because they wanted to, just because they wanted each other. It felt different and new, and yet strangely familiar, as though this was what Breana's body had been made for. When his tongue pressed against her lips, she parted them willingly, deepening the kiss and leaning into him.
Though the passion was overwhelming, there was no rush, no hurry, to the way they held each other. They were content to lose themselves within each other's arms, to forget everything for a moment. Right now, they were free of all the expectations. Everything in the past, everything in the present, and even everything in the burgeoning future vanished at once, all of it narrowing down to only this moment.
There was nothing right now beyond Eoin and Breana, nothing other than each other, and reality for now was nothing more than this.
When at last they separated, they stared into each other's eyes. Breana's pulse was quickened, and her skin was tingling like it was on fire, and yet she longed to throw herself back into the flames. She sighed, resting her head against his chest, and he held her close. They stood like that for a moment, then Breana pulled back slightly, not to get out of his arms, but just so that she could look up at him again.
"Eoin—" she started.
Before she could speak, though, one of the horses let out a warning bray. Eoin was instantly on his guard, jumping away from Breana and reaching for his sword. Breana scooped up her bow, and just as she did, four men appeared through the narrow path between the hills.
Even in the dim light, Breana recognized them—they were the same men from the tavern, the same men who had announced that her father was dead. The same men Breana hadinsisted upon following had now found them, and were armed and dangerous as they approached.
"There ye are," one of the men said, and even in the dim light, it was clear he was wearing a sadistic grin on his face. "Did ye think ye could get away?"
"There must be some kind of mistake," Eoin said cautiously, positioning himself between Breana and the approaching men. "We're just travelers. Newlyweds."
All four of the men laughed, and the leader spat on the ground. "We ken exactly who ye are," he said. "We kent it from the moment ye and yer whore followed us when we were drinkin'. They said Kyle Darach's traitor son still runs with the rebels, but who would have thought he would turn up here, of all places?"
Breana gasped, covering her mouth in horror at the dawning understanding of what was happening. They had both been worried about her being recognized, and rightfully so—but neither of them had considered that someone might spot Eoin. True fear filled every fiber of Breana's body, washing away the indescribable joy she had been experiencing a moment before, and she raised her bow with shaking hands.
"Let us go," Eoin said quietly. "This doesnae need tae be a fight."
"It willnae be much of a fight," one of the men replied, and all four stepped forward menacingly, each raising their weapons. "And soon enough, we'll bring the king yer head."
11
Rushing down the tower stairs as fast as her feet could take her, Neala wondered if she wasn't already too late. She'd finally gotten some of the information she had so desperately sought, but the discovery meant that everything they thought they had understood about Ashkirk's plan had been wrong. They needed to get the word to the rebelsnow. Whatever trap the king and his charismatic son had set, Neala was certain it would be deadly, and maybe even the end of the rebellion as they knew it. Why else would Ansel be so confident? Why else would he speak of it so freely?
She'd stammered an excuse and slipped out of the room only moments after the end of their chess game, and Ansel had let her go without a word, watching her with those strange, hypnotizing eyes until she'd closed the door behind her.
Now, Neala was rushing to the kitchens, desperate to get to Elspeth. The older Sparrow would know what to do, and they could get the word out. It might not be too late; there might still be a chance. But a horrible sense of foreboding hung over Neala's head, and she couldn't shake the feeling that, despite all of her hard work and her dedication, she'd arrived too late.
She was about to swing around a corner to the next set of stairs when she heard a group of voices ascending from just below. On instinct, Neala dived into the shadows of an inlet in the wall, partially hidden behind a hanging tapestry bearing the Ashkirk crest. She knew that she could probably just slow to a walk and get past the guards with no issues—she was still just a maid, after all—but something in her mind screamed at her to stay still.
Three guards came into sight a moment later, curving around the top of the stairs in deep conversation.
"—heard the old woman will be executed eventually. Cannae imagine what someone her age is doin' gettin' mixed up in somethin' like this," one of the guards said.
"And the younger one?" another asked.
Two of the guards laughed. The third one said, "Given her looks, I guess she'll live a little longer. The king will likely have his fun first. A shame and a waste of a bonny face, really, but that's what ye get when ye're caught passin' information tae those accursed rebels."
Neala had to bite her lip hard to stop the gasp from escaping. An old woman had been captured for colluding with the rebels? Could it be…? Fear for Elspeth eclipsed her existing urgency, terror that her friend and protector had perhaps been discovered. The men continued their dark jokes and suggestive comments as they moved past and walked down the hallway, passing Neala without noticing her at all.
Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard that she felt like she couldn't breathe. Where was Elspeth now? Was she hurt? Was she being tortured?
Another thought slammed into her mind, heightening the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she understood the rest of what the men had said.The younger one.Could they be talking about Neala herself? Had she been discovered?Understanding came like a thunderclap in her head; there was why Ansel had shown such interest in her. He had obviously been distracting her while they captured Elspeth, and no doubt they would be coming for Neala next.
Cursing under her breath, Neala could barely wait until the men had disappeared around another corner before she burst out from behind the tapestry and hurried back down the stairs. She was no longer heading for the kitchens, but instead straight to the dungeons. The smart thing to do now that she had most likely been discovered would be to flee, get back home and tell Laura what had happened, and allow the Sparrows and the rebels both to regroup.
But she thought of Elspeth, alone and afraid in the dungeons, and knew that she couldn't leave. Not without helping her friend escape. Even if it meant risking her own life.
Neala burst into the dungeons with a stitch in her side and nausea tearing at her throat. There were no guards posted at the door, as usual—the king was too arrogant to waste his men as permanent guards, and only sent people to check his deepest prisons once per hour. After all, who would be foolish enough to try to break someone out from the very heart of Blackthorn Castle?
She made her way cautiously through the thin corridors which were lined on either end by open-faced cells, each filled with prisoners. Holding up the torch she had picked up in the doorway, she could see them all. There were men and women, young and old, those who wore the remnants of rich clothing and those who wore little but rags. The only thing all these prisoners had in common was the despair and dread on their faces. Somewere angry, howling and trying to get free, calling for her help as she passed. Others were crying, sobbing and begging. And the third, the ones who she knew would haunt her dreams for the longest, were not expressing at all. They stood or sat in place, uninterested even in her walking by, not reacting, simply staring into nothing.
They were the most lost, she knew. Edric Ashkirk had taken not only their lives away, but their souls.
