Anger flashed across Cailean's face at the inappropriate implication, but Maeve gave him a swift look, and he nodded slightly, allowing himself to calm. Darren and Fergus also got to their feet.
"We'll be comin' along as well," Darren said cheerfully. "Ye'll nae be havin' all the fun without us."
The servant frowned, obviously less amused now that men were standing up against him. "Murtagh insisted that ye come alone."
"And we insist otherwise," said Fergus in that calm, steady voice of his. "Lead the way."
The servant scowled, looking back at Cailean, who just gave him a smile. He gave a stiff nod and said, "Very well. Come with me, then."
Cailean gave brief instructions to the others to hang back but stay alert, then their small party of four followed the servant through winding corridors and down several stairways until they eventually arrived back at the great hall where they had met with Murtagh yesterday.
A sense of foreboding weighed down upon them all. Maeve could see it in the faces of her friends, as well as feel it on her own shoulders. As they entered the hall, it seemed darker somehow, and colder too. It wasn't only because the place was emptier now that it wasn't set up for a feast. There was just something in the atmosphere that felt…wrong.
Murtagh McKenzie sat on his seat opposite the entrance, slightly raised from the floor. He watched them enter, and if he was surprised or bothered by the extra people who had come along, it did not show on his stony face. His eyes glinted with something that Maeve didn't like. As their little group walked through the hall toward him, Maeve noticed that the walls were lined with men—with soldiers. Their shadows seemed to lengthen as they walked by, and Murtagh McKenzie wore a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.
Maeve's hand lingered over the hidden dagger she kept in an inner pocket in her skirt. She wondered if Cailean had remembered to bring her knife.
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was seeing ghosts.
But she was prepared for the worst. No matter what.
Breana was a capable rider. It had been one of the few things she was permitted to do for fun throughout her childhood, providing she stayed within the grounds of O'Sullivan castle. It had always been her refuge, the only illusion of freedom that she had ever experienced through her youth. She was glad now for all those hours she'd spent on horseback as she and Eoin hurtled through the Highlands along the path that Maeve and Cailean must have taken not so long ago. Breana's mind was focused hard on Maeve and what might be happening to her sister even at this moment.
They'd stopped for an hour to allow the horses some rest, food, and water. Breana had wanted to keep going, but Eoin had managed to convince her that they would be no use to anyone if their horses collapsed before they arrived or, indeed, if Eoin and Breana themselves were starved and tired half to death.
Eoin was poring over a map which Breana had been updating as they went, a small frown furrowing his brow. Breana watched him, his dark auburn hair shimmering red in the light he was using to read. He looked in her mind like a fae prince from a tale, tall and slim and boyish, and she idly imagined him spiriting her away from the stress she felt at the state of the world around her.
"She'll be alright," Eoin said without looking up, as if he could feel her eyes upon him.
Breana chewed on the hard biscuit they'd brought in their pack, not answering. She wondered if Eoin was trying to convince her, or to convince himself.
"She will be," Eoin insisted. He looked up with those big, honest eyes, and she felt herself drawn into them. A warmthsettled in her stomach like a flickering flame, but it wasn't enough to burn away all the doubt and fear inside. "They all will. Maeve is strong, stronger than anyone kens."
Breana smiled slightly at that. "Ye dinnae need tae tellmehow strong me sister is," she said at last. "She always has been, since she was a bairn. Our father used tae…he'd beat her, like a boy, because she'd talk back tae him like one."
Eoin grimaced, but Breana simply kept talking. She didn't have the term or energy to be overly sensitive about her past, not anymore. This beautiful country was a battlefield, one that her own father had helped create, and her own childhood was just one casualty in millions.
"Nessa, meanwhile, was the perfect daughter. She was everythin' me father ever wanted her tae be, and me mother as well. God only kens how she managed to do it. I sometimes wonder if she was under the most pressure out of all of us." Breana sighed. "But me… I've always been on the sidelines. The eldest, but the least interestin'. The least effective. The least useful."
"Breana…"
"I joined the rebellion nae just because Maeve saved me, but because I truly want tae make a difference. Nae matter how I try, though, I feel like I'm still just the warrior woman's sister," Breana went on. "The one who needs savin'. The one who needs help. I've nae a brave bone in me body." Tears filled her eyes.
"That's enough." Eoin folded his arms. "Breana, listen tae yerself." He tapped the map in front of him. "As much as Maeve is important tae me, do ye think she'd be able tae do somethin' like this? Or yer other sister? Maeve is a warrior, and it sounds like Nessa is a woman of politics, but ye…ye are an artist."
"What?"
He smiled. "None of them would have had the attention tae detail, the memory, and the artistry tae do this. Cartography isa mystery tae a man like me, but ye…ye make it look as easy as breathin'. Dinnae underestimate yerself."
"Other people can make maps."
"Other people can swing a sword," Eoin replied. "Does that make what Maeve can do less wonderful? Does that make the strength of the warriors in our rebellion less important?"
Breana smiled sadly at the enthusiasm in his voice. He truly believed the words he was saying, and yet he was missing the point. "They're brave. They all have a kind of bravery that I'll never had. Maeve was the one who could stand up tae our father, the one who escaped Darach Castle without help, the one who?—"
"Maeve had help. I helped her, and Ann as well," Eoin protested. "I'm nae sayin' she wasnae brave—she is—but so are ye."
"I'm nae. I never spoke up when yer father had ye shut in the dungeons. I never tried tae get away when he made me his wife." Breana wiped her eyes. "I wish I was better."
