Ada's breath caught. "Who?—"
She didn't even have time to finish the question before they were on her.
Rough hands seized her arms, yanked her backward with brutal force. A palm clamped over her mouth, cutting off the screamthat tore from her throat. The taste of leather and salt flooded her senses as she tried to bite down, tried to wrench free.
"Got her," a voice hissed near her ear. Male. Unfamiliar in the panic flooding her mind. "Finally. Thought she'd never leave that damn chamber."
Ada thrashed, her boots scraping against stone. She kicked backward with all her strength, felt her heel connect solidly with someone's shin. A grunt of pain, but the grip on her didn't loosen. If anything, it tightened until she could barely breathe.
"Hold her still, damn it!" A second voice, rougher than the first. "She fights like a wildcat?—"
A second set of hands grabbed her flailing arms, forced them down to her sides with bruising pressure. Ada tried to scream again, tried to bite the hand covering her mouth, but they were too strong. Too practiced at this.
Like they'd done it before.
"Get the gag," the first man ordered. "We need her quiet before someone hears."
A rough cloth pressed against her face that tasted of dirt and oil and something metallic. Blood, maybe. They forced it between her teeth despite her attempts to keep her jaw clenched shut. Tied it tight behind her head until her jaw ached and her muffled protests died to nothing.
"Good. Now move. We dinnae have much time before someone notices she's gone."
They dragged her backward toward the storage room door. Ada's satchel fell from her shoulder and hit the floor with a soft thud. She heard the contents spill—glass vials shattering, herbs scattering across stone.
No. No, no, no.
Panic clawed at her throat, made her vision blur. She threw her weight to one side, trying to make herself as difficult to carry as possible. Her elbow connected with something solid—ribs, maybe—and she heard one of the men curse.
"She's goin' tae wake the whole damn keep?—"
"Then move faster! The laird's in his war room. By the time he realizes she's gone, we'll be through the gate and ontae the horses."
The storage room door opened with a groan of hinges. Cold night air rushed in, sharp and bracing after the warmth of the kitchens. Ada could see stars through the opening, could smell the sea.
They were going to take her outside. Through one of the hidden passages Magnus had mentioned. The ones he'd been worried about.
Terror gave her strength. Ada redoubled her efforts, twisting violently, throwing her head back. Connected with something—a chin, maybe. Heard another curse.
"Hold her, ye useless?—"
"I'm tryin'! She's stronger than she looks!"
They hauled her through the storage room, past barrels and crates stacked in the shadows. One of the men was breathing hard now, struggling with her constant thrashing.
"Why are we even daein' this?" the second voice panted. "Just kill her and be done with it."
"Because the laird wants her alive, ye fool. Fer the ransom."
Ransom.
The word cut through Ada's panic like ice water. They weren't just taking her. They were planning to use her against Magnus.
"MacTavish is promisin' us enough gold to keep us comfortable for years. And once Magnus Haraldson is bankrupted payin' tae get his precious wife back, MacTavish can take Barra without a fight. Nae coin fer soldiers, nae coin fer weapons—the serpent will have nae venom left."
MacTavish. Her father.
Of course. Of course, it was him.
Ada's eyes burned with fury behind the gag. Her father was behind this. Behind everything—the poisoned well, the fire, the attacks. Using her as a pawn again, just like he'd always done.
