He squeezed her hand in response, then said, "This willnae be easy for either of us. But together, we're strong enough for anythin'."
Maeve nodded, then looked back at the men who were still with them, all waiting on Cailean's — and her — orders. She gave them a signal and then, with a deep breath, moved forward and opened the door.
Malcolm's old chambers, now Kyle's, were some of the grandest rooms in the castle. It was a suite of five or six joined rooms, including a personal audience room where Malcolm had often received guests, planned strategies, and even conducted smallermeetings with his allies and enemies alike. In Maeve's time here it had served as a war room, a room for diplomacy, and a room where orders were signed and deals were made.
Now, it served as Maeve's worst nightmare.
They entered from the side, causing an uproar of surprise. Several Darach men rushed forward, though they hesitated as Cailean's men drew their swords, some still shimmering with blood from the battle down below. But Maeve couldn't pay attention to that. Her eyes were fixed on the center of the room, where Kyle Darach stood, his arm around a slim young woman with large green eyes and cornsilk hair. Those eyes widened in surprise as the young woman saw Maeve and gasped.
"Maeve!" she exclaimed, then covered her mouth with her hands.
It was too late to cover up the blunder. Kyle Darach's eyes narrowed as he looked from the attacking men to his young wife and then found Maeve amongst the invaders. A slow smile crept onto his face, and in a deep, commanding voice, he declared, "Stop!"
The room seemed to freeze, Darach men and rebels alike lowering their swords as the chieftain took a few steps forward.
"I'm here, Bre," Maeve told her over the silence. "We'll get ye out of this."
"Has me wife lost her mind, or could it truly be that her traitor sister stands before me now?" Kyle asked, sounding almost delighted at the prospect. "It seems preposterous that ye'd return here, Maeve O'Sullivan, and yet here ye stand."
Maeve felt Cailean tense as Kyle addressed her, but she put a hand on his arm, a quiet single nae yet.
"Ye come with blood on yer face and a sword in yer hand. Did killin' our previous chieftain nae satisfy ye? Have ye come tae slaughter me as well?" Kyle's eyes narrowed. "I shouldae killed ye when ye were in the dungeons rather than listenin' tae meidiot son. Instead, ye made him play the hero, and now I have tae make an example of him as well."
"Eoin is free," Maeve said quietly. "All yer prisoners are free. And soon me sister will be as well."
"Me wife, ye mean," Kyle corrected, obviously enjoying the taunt. Maeve felt her blood boiling, but tried to hold herself back.Nae yet. His eyes flicked to her hand on Cailean's. "It seems ye've nae even been loyal tae me traitor son. Ye've taken a lover amongst the rebels, is it? Who is?—"
They all saw it when something changed in Kyle's expression, and Maeve knew it for what it was — recognition.
"Ye're the McNair lad," Kyle exclaimed in disbelief. "Ye look just like yer father. That, or ye're a ghost of the old fool, back tae haunt us."
Cailean stepped forward. "Me father was nae fool," he said in a voice as cold as morning frost. "But ye are right that I'm his son. Here tae take back this castle in me father's name. Inme ownname."
Kyle, obviously still believing he had the upper hand, burst out into a laugh. "This is wonderful!" he announced. "Men, look! The lost prince has returned tae offer his head as a gift tae our king."
"If ye want me head, come take it yerself, Darach," Cailean demanded. He stepped forward to the front of the group. "Let the lass go. Duel me. Let's make this between ye and me. Naebody else needs tae die."
"Oh, I think they do," Kyle told him with good humor. "Yer rebels here have killed me men. Ye're like vermin, and ye all need tae be stamped out. But first, ye."
"Take me challenge. Spare yer men and mine," Cailean urged him again. "Me life against yers. Let's end this."
"End it?" Kyle asked. He shook his head. "Lad, it ended twenty years ago." He turned to his men. "Kill him. Kill them all."
"No!" Breana shrieked.
The rebels raised their swords in a defensive pose, Maeve and Cailean among them, but while a few of the Darach men surged forward, many hung back, uncertainty written across their faces, whispers amongst them reaching Maeve's ears.
McNair?
Could it be?
The True king?!
The clang of swords sounded, but before the fight could begin in earnest, a loud horn sounded, echoing through the castle.
"What?" Kyle rasped, alarm on his face for the first time. "What is this?"
"The gates are open, Kyle," Maeve told him. "The rebel army is comin'. It's over."
