“They’re nothing like the last ones”, Namet pointed out.
The last two caught spying on him had had their heads returned to Ecgfrith in a turnip sack.
“No, they’re certainly not.” The now-headless ones had been sly; cunning. Their story had been seamless, their words convincing in all things. It was only his extreme caution and perseverance that had rooted them out. Since then, he had trusted no one.
Namet nodded in agreement. “What kind of spies don’t have their story straight ahead of time? There’s something strange going on here. They could have been hiding in the well for days, coming out only after dark. Who knows what they could have learned?”
“And only when the priestesses arrived…”
“They had to show themselves.”
“Perhaps Ecgfrith is wise, sending a woman and a bumbling fool. Who would suspect them of treachery?”
“It may not be Ecgfrith, though I agree he is the most likely. We do have other enemies to consider. There may even be some among the tribes of Orkney who still refuse to accept my rule. But you’re right, their appearance is too strange not to take every precaution.”
“What will we do with them?” Namet asked.
“Leave the man to the priestesses.” Bridei’s mouth turned up at the corners in amusement. “I can think of no better way to break a man than with such an onslaught of feminine wiles.”
“And the lass?”
“I will keep her with me.” His lips curled further. “I would not ask any of my men to face a danger that I would not face myself first.”
Namet laughed. “If that is danger, my King, then let me be the one to risk death.”
Bridei gave him a half-smile that clearly said he was no longer amused. “Besides, you will be busy scouring the village for signs of any others who do not belong here. Tell the people that anyone caught harboring a stranger without my knowledge and consent will be punished. We will not permit anyone or anything to jeopardize the security of Tallorc.”
Nessaspun around in the tunic, letting it swish and wrap around her legs, while her arms were half-bared by the elbow-length sleeves. Apparently she didn’t warrant a belt with a golden buckle like the other women wore, but the fabric was remarkably soft, and there was a thin band of braided threads adorning the hem. She was allowed to keep her sandals, but Petra had taken away her jeans and t-shirt.
She finally had a moment alone to let everything sink in.I absolutely cannot believe I am here in seventh century Scotland. This is crazy.
“This is absolutely crazy”, she said out loud to the empty room. Ever since she’d been left alone (locked in, but left alone), she’d been going back and forth between the edges of panic and fascination, walking on a very thin tightrope. She needed to make a plan, to keep herself from falling over the edge.
She had to get out of here; that was for certain. She had to find Angus, get them both back to that infernal well, and go home to Gram and Nathan. There…she had a plan. Okay, it wasn’t much of a plan, but it gave her just enough purpose to stay calm and not freak out. Freaking out would only make things worse. She was okay. Angus was close. She would find him. He was a genius and knew how to get them home.Everything was going to be fine.
The door opened.
And once again he took her breath away on the wings of those damned butterflies.
“Bridei”, she said, as if she needed to remind herself again just who he was. He tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement, his eyes never leaving her.
“Lass.” In the dim indoor light, the black tattoos on his face stood out starkly, making him seem slightly menacing. She knew who he was, and how he’d kept his power for all these years. How he’d won so many battles and cowed so many people; entire tribes. He was merciless. She should be afraid of him, but she realized she wasn’t; at least not as much as she should be. She was more fascinated than afraid.
“You’re coming with me.”
“My uncle?” she asked.
“Is safe.”
“Prove it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin. She needed to know where Angus was if she had any hope of sneaking away with him tonight.
He looked mildly amused. “I don’t have to prove anything to you, Nessa of Fife.”
By the tone of his voice when he called herNessa of Fife, she knew he still didn’t believe her story. At least not all of it.
He gestured to the open door, and she grudgingly walked through it, careful not to brush against him as she did. “Can I at least see him later? Which building is he in?” There were at least thirty or forty that she could see, stretching up and over the hill. “We really have to leave tomorrow. My future husband is waiting for me.”
“Will he come looking for you, do you think? Are you of value to him?”
