He did not pretend to misunderstand. “Nay.”
“Will you kill him?” she asked, watching his surprised expression. “Or just torture him?”
He ignored her question then, closing his eyes as though trying to sleep. She knew he would not, for he’d not yet bound her hands or feet to secure her for the night.
“Is he one of Sir William’s men?” she asked softly. It was what she feared the most.
“Nay. He is from the west,” he replied. She let out her breath at his answer. Not one of William’s but one of Marcus’s group. He must have been following them when he was captured.
“Is it difficult for you to torture or kill someone?” To plan something like that was unthinkable to her.
“You ask too many questions about killing,” he said. “You have no need for such knowledge.”
She stopped asking and leaned her head back. Closing her eyes, she confessed her darkest sin to the man who killed for his living.
“I killed a man yesterday. A friend. A man who had asked to court me,” she whispered. “He made me kill my friend.”
The tears flowed then, silently, and she turned away so he could not see them in the light of the lantern between them. Sorrow filled her as she remembered all the good things about James.
“’Tis his sin, then, no’ yours, lass.”
She slept restlessly that night and thought someone stroked her hair, comforting her as her mother used to when she could not find sleep. In the morning, the sun broke through the clouds and she saw the sea for the first time.
William did not wastetime trying to follow them to the coast. Instead he took his men at a brutal pace back to Edinburgh and the king. The king was not there, staying at Dunfermline Abbey over in Fife instead, so William met with his Exchequer and got what he needed based on the king’s previous orders. Leaving a message for the king’s private secretary about increasing the number of guards on him, William led his company to Leith, to the cog the king’s man had ordered made ready for their use.
From what Marcus and Aislinn could tell him, the stone circle they sought was north and west of Aberdeen, so they would sail there and go by land from the coast. Though those from Far Island were experienced sailors, his men did not fare as well on board the small ship.
Marcus and the others continued to teach him more about the ancient gods whose powers passed down to him and others and about the prophecies. But their worried expressions warned him that their friend was in danger.
“Do you know if he yet lives?” Will asked them as the ship moved along the coast, north of the firth.
“He lives,” Marcus answered.
“How do you know this? Tell me of this connection you share. Is it because of your training?” he asked, sitting on a bench near the front of the ship.
“Aislinn is the strongest connection we have. She dreamwalks and sees him.”
“Dreamwalks?” he asked, looking to her for an explanation.
“I cannot exactly explain how it works, William,” she said. “I sleep. I dream. I walk and find those I know.”
“And your man? You found him?”
“Aye. Corann has heard me.” He waited for more, but when she did not go on, he asked.
“Will he break, Aislinn? Will Hugh find out the method to open the circle from him?”
“He is not practiced at deception, William. And he is not a warrior. He . . . will break . . . soon.”
If Hugh knew what Corann could do—read the signs, chant the prayers—he might keep him alive. If he did, it could give them time to rescue him when they took Brienne back.
“Can you find Brienne in your dreamwalk?”
“I do not know. I have never sought someone not a priest,” Aislinn said, glancing at Marcus first. “I can try though. You could help me find her since your connection to her is so strong.”
“How? Tell me how.”
“We must wait until nightfall. We will try then.”
