"Forgive me, Maeve, but that isnae gonnae work," he said. "We already discussed this when we found out about Morag and Anne, and again when Cailean wanted tae rescue Neala. We're simply nae ready for an all-out attack."
"We're almost there," Hamish agreed. "But nae quite. We just need a little more patience."
"I dinnaehavemore patience!" Maeve snapped. "He has mesister!"
"And mine," Breana added. "I've already shown meself capable. Give me a bow and I'll go and fetch her. I let her down once, I willnae do it again."
Neala felt Cailean's eyes upon her again, and she knew that this was it: her first test as the princess. She needed to speak up and try to help calm this building frenzy. "Please," she said. "Please remember this is what I've trained for me whole life. We have a whole network of people who can help us. Let me use it."
"What do ye mean?" Hamish asked.
"The White Sparrows," Neala explained eagerly, seeing that she was successfully gaining their attention. "Elspeth is still stationed in Blackthorn Castle, and I'm sure now that I've gone and things have changed, Laura has placed more girls there besides. Let me reach out tae them. I can find out how Nessa is doing, and maybe we can work out a way tae get her out."
"That will take too long," Ferda insisted. She sounded strained, and looking at her, it was clear she hadn't been sleeping well. "We've got all the information we want, but Ann and Morag are still rottin' in a cell, and now Nessa is there too. Let me go. I'll break them out meself."
"With yer broken arm?" Eoin asked. "Darren would kill us if we let ye go off anywhere in such a state."
Ferda glared at him. "And ye with that healin' wound in yer chest? Ye think ye'll be more help?"
"Dinnae take it out on him!" Breana shot back. "This isnae about yer pride, either of ye. It's about me sister. I think Maeve is right, we need tae attack."
Senan cleared his throat. "Ye're all approachin' this the wrong way. We need tae be strategic, aye, but it needs tae be a wider plan. We cannae keep makin' wee rushes, nay when we've gained so much momentum. It's time tae finish gatherin' our allies and tae make a final attack. We can free Morag, Ann, Nessa, and all of the hundreds of other people who are trapped under the False King's tyranny. We can destroy Edric Ashkirk once and for all, and once Cailean is where he should be on the throne, then we willallbe free."
The words were so surprising from the usually-lighthearted Senan that even Maeve stopped talking for a moment. But the silence only lasted for a second before the riotous shouting started all over again. The arguments overlapped each other, the feelings were burning so hot that they were attacking each other with words, and nobody seemed to agree with anyone. Neala, used to the calm cooperation of the convent then the ominous quiet of the castles, found herself completely overwhelmed. She grabbed at her own forehead, pressing her fingers into her temples, trying hard to fight off the pounding headache that was forming there.
Maeve's voice raised over all of them as she announced loudly, "I willneverleave me own sister there with thatmonster.Never!"
The pressure burst, and Neala whipped up her head, meeting her sister-in-law's gaze directly. "He's nae monster!"she protested, shouting so passionately that the others turned to look. "He isnae! If he was I wouldnae be here!"
Maeve scowled. "We already talked about this. He could have freed ye for any reason. I dinnae ken what he did tae ye, but?—"
"He never touched me!" Neala interrupted. "Nae once. Nae even—" she cut herself off before she could finish the sentence.Nae even when I wanted him tae.
"Never touched ye?" Breana asked quietly. "Neala, hecutye. He held a knife tae yer throat and threatened Cailean with yer life. Maeve told me what happened in that room. It wasnae a joke."
Neala shook her head. The room felt like it was spinning around her. She saw that moment again: the moment Ansel's fingers had brushed her throat, the horrified self-hatred in his eyes burning into her soul. "He wouldnae have hurt me."
"He would have hurt us all," Cailean said darkly. "I saw those catapults. I saw the plans they left behind. If ye hadnae trapped him in that room, he would have sat back and allowed all of me men tae be slaughtered by his own. If I'd have agreed tae the duel he requested, he would have happily stabbed me in the heart if he'd had the chance, and let me blood run on the floor. Just as his father once did to our own family."
She flinched. There was no way to argue with him, not in a way that would be convincing. Everything he was saying was correct. But they hadn't seen Ansel by the side of the road when he was tearing himself apart. They hadn't heard the agony in his voice as he'd fought with himself to choose between duty and freedom. "Ye're wrong," she whispered. "He's nae monster. He's just a man. A man with a terrible father."
"We're all just men and women. And Maeve, Breana, and I all ken what it is tae be raised by a monster. None of us allowed ourselves tae become one. Ashkirk did," Eoin replied. "In me youth, I did wrong in me father's name, I'll nae deny it. But Inever took such glee in the horror as they say Ansel Ashkirk does in upholdin' his father's cruelty."
"Did he even hesitate before he cut down James O'Sullivan—a man who had been nothin' but loyal tae the False King?" Hamish asked. He wasn't aggressive, but seemed curious, as though he was trying to understand where Neala was coming from. "Cailean told me ye witnessed it. What was he like?"
Neala opened her mouth to answer. She remembered it so clearly. The flash of the blade. The horror in O'Sullivan's eyes. She closed her lips together hard and looked away.
"Exactly," Maeve said. "Exactly. He slaughtered me father efficiently and without remorse. If this is how he treats a man who was, as we all ken, a member of the False King's closest circle, what horrors will he inflict upon me sister if we leave her in his clutches?"
It was wrong. Wrong. Ansel had told her he would never force a woman, and never kill an enemy without a weapon in their hand. Neala knew in her heart that it was true. She'd told him that he was his mother's son, not his father's, and that he could free himself. She'd saw he was a good man below all of the pain, and she'd given him a path to come with her and allow that good man to live.
But he had chosen to ride away. Now the monster's legacy was all he would ever be.
Cailean held up his hands. Neala wondered if he saw the tears on her face, or if he saw the pain in Maeve's, or if he was perhaps simply understanding that this conversation would go nowhere. There were too many voices, too many opinions, and the meeting would never result in anything other than chaos.
When he spoke, his voice was subtly different. It was not the tone of Cailean, the rebel, but that of Cailean, the King. "Stop," he ordered, and gradually the room fell silent. "Stop now. We need a break. Go for a walk. Get some air. We'll resume soon."
"Cailean—" Maeve started.
