"He didnae look smug tae me," Maeve replied thoughtfully. "He looked… afraid."
Frowning, Cailean moved back a little, turning to face her. What did she mean? There were many words he would use to describe the sight of Ansel Ashkirk at that moment, butafraidwas about as far from those as he could get.
"An' besides. What would we have done if he'd killed ye?" Maeve demanded. "The rebellion would have been shattered."
"He wouldnae have killed me. I would have destroyed him," Cailean replied, an ugly undertone in his voice.
Maeve sighed. "Maybe. But it wasnae worth the risk. We managed tae take the castle back,yer homeback, without too much bloodshed. Some of the False King's men have even stayed behind tae hear us out. And…"
She trailed off, and Cailean frowned.
"And?" he prompted.
She hesitated. "And… Neala went with him willingly, Cailean. She kent what she was doin'. She was protectin' ye and protectin' him as well."
"Why would me sister protecthim?" Cailean demanded. His voice came out louder than he'd intended, and a few of his men still stationed at the gates turned their heads in his direction. He lowered his voice. "I'm sorry. I didnae mean tae shout. But ye’re mad if ye think?—"
Maeve held up her hands in front of her, palms toward him, signaling peace. "There was somethin' there, love, whether ye want tae see it or not. Somethin' unspoken between them. If he wanted her dead, she'd have been a corpse before we arrived. And ifshe'dwantedhimdead—Cailean, yer sister is a trained White Sparrow. She had more than enough opportunity tae end him if she'd wanted tae."
"Ye're wrong," Cailean snapped immediately. "Me sister wouldneverside with the enemy."
"I never said that!" Maeve replied, her own voice a little raised now in self-defense. "But I am an O'Sullivan. Eoin is a Darach. Andyehid yer own name for twenty years. We both ken it's more complicated than black or white."
Cailean threw his hands up in frustration and started pacing back and forth. "He cut her, right in front of our eyes."
"He grazed her. It didnae look intentional, and?—"
"He held a knife tae her throat!"
Maeve folded her arms. "I'm nae actin' like he's a good man. He still took her. He still planned an attack that would have wiped us all out. He still serves his accursed father. But, for whatever reason, Neala wanted him alive. Perhaps she thinks she can get more information out of him. Perhaps there's another reason. But it was her choice, and it's our duty tae respect that."
"How can ye—" Cailean started to argue, but cut off as his eyes fell on something in the distance. "Maeve."
She stilled, instantly alert as she recognized the tone in his voice, their argument already forgotten. She moved quickly to his side, and the two of them walked to the very edge of the battlement, looking out at the rapidly approaching figure on horseback.
"Cailean!" one of his guards shouted back. "It's a rider! Shall we prepare the archers?"
He was about to say yes, but something stopped him. It was onlyonerider, with no others behind them. Perhaps it was a messenger from Bruce Castle, or one of the White Sparrows who had followed in Breana and Eoin's wake, or…
His heart leapt painfully, and he hurried for the stairs. Behind him, he heard Maeve call to the guard to hold their fire before she rushed down after him. They reached the ground in just a few seconds, and together they sped to the gate, which opened at Cailean's command.
The rider was closer now, close enough that they could make out some features. It was a woman, her dark hair still damp from the rain, racing as fast as her horse could take her toward them. Cailean's fingertips felt cold, his breathing rapid, and he held out a hand. Maeve took it immediately, and, like that, they moved forward outside the castle to await the rider's arrival.
She reached them in moments, and there was no doubting it now—it was Neala, alive and in one piece, exhausted and crying, buthere, on the very same horse that Cailean had believed was taking her away forever. He dropped Maeve's hand and rushed forward, Maeve close behind. They reached Neala just as she pulled her horse to a stop, and the young woman practically fell off the horse, collapsing, sobbing and laughing, into Cailean's arms.
Cailean held her close, tears in his own eyes, barely able to believe what was happening. His arms wrapped tight around her, perhaps crushing her a little too close as he tried desperately to believe this was real, and she clung to him just as desperately. Maeve stayed back for the moment, tending to the horse, giving the siblings space to reunite.
He had no idea how long they stood there, just crying and holding one another. It may have been an eternity, and he didn't care. Eventually, they pulled apart, though their hands remained joined.
"Neala," he said hoarsely. "How?"
"Ansel… he… he let me go," Neala stuttered, then burst into a fresh round of tears. "He let me come back to ye. He gave me me brother back."
Cailean needed to ask questions. He couldn't understand how this was possible. But right now, it didn't matter.
The two embraced again. Maeve returned to their side after a few moments, and this time when the hug ended, Cailean beckoned her over. He could not stop staring at his sister, at this impossible, wonderful woman who should not exist. Faraway memories that had almost left him entirely came flooding back. He had a vivid flash of being a tiny child sitting at his mother's bedside, holding the new baby in his arms with her support, his brothers teasing him for how enchanted he was by the child but still waiting for their own turns.
And now he was holding her again. They were together again, in the very home where they had been born. He could feel the magnitude of this moment. A ghostly image shimmered in his mind. He imagined older versions of his mother and father, and two older men and a woman just a little younger than himself—his siblings, all together and smiling, silently celebrating the reunion. He blinked, and the image faded, but to his joy, Neala still stood there, smiling tearfully up at him.
