She gripped his arm, preventing him from closing the door. Startled, he flinched and met her gaze. “Is my father with him? Please, Sir John, I do not know if my father is even alive!”
He shook her off. “I do not know!”
“And who leads Bruce’s forces?”
He shook his head, about to close the door.
“Wait!” she cried, pushing between him and the door. “Will my grandmother and I remain imprisoned if we are attacked? I must speak with my uncle immediately! He must release us!”
His answer was to scowl and shut the door in her face. Alana stared at the wood, her nose practically touching it, flinching when she heard the bolt being thrown.
Eleanor approached. “If Nairn falls, perhaps we will be set free.”
Alana stared at her. Would Iain free them? “Either that, or we will become the prisoners of our worst enemy.”
* * *
THEATTACKBEGANat dawn.
Alana had not slept well. She had been unable to stop her racing thoughts as she worried over whether or not the castle would be attacked, and what might happen to her and her grandmother, trapped as they were in the tower. If Iain were leading the attack, and he was aware of her presence in the tower, she was certain he would not allow them to be hurt. But he would not know that she and Eleanor were present. If the castle were taken, enemy soldiers would overrun every inch of it. Buchan’s soldiers would be killed. Alana was afraid of her own fate and that of the other women who were present.
As for what might happen should Bruce ever learn of her identity, she could only pray he would consider her a worthless and unwanted bastard—though she felt certain that would not be the case.
Mairi had not come back. Sir John had refused to open the door to speak with her, no matter how often she shouted at him. She had finally given up banging on the door, as his answer remained absolute silence.
She could not see the south road from her window, only the north road, which was rarely used as it went to the sea. She could only assume that Buchan had returned, perhaps with Duncan, and perhaps with her father, and that he meant to defend the castle.
Alana fell asleep in her grandmother’s arms, fighting tears of rising hysteria.
The siege engines awoke her.
She heard a boom from the front gates, the sound shocking. Instantly awake, she could hear the sounds of battle from outside—screaming horses, shouting men, whistling missiles.
“Gran! We are under attack!” Alana cried, seizing her mantle. She ran to the window and pushed open the shutters.
“Alana, stand back!” Eleanor screamed.
But Alana could not move. Hail after hail of arrows flew at the castle walls, along with flaming missiles.
She flinched but did not move. Bruce’s army was arranged across the ridge below the tower where she stood. The barbican was on the south side, and she had not expected such a sight.
But his soldiers snaked around the walls to the west, and she felt certain his men ringed the castle entirely. He had hundreds of archers in the first rows of his army, foot soldiers with shields and pikes behind them. She espied several groups of mounted knights, and then, a small army of mounted Highlanders.
She stared across the archers and foot soldiers at the Highland army atop the ridge. Were those Iain’s men?
More arrows flew toward the north wall, and the tower where she stood. Catapults had been set up at intervals, and fiery rock bombs were whizzing at the ramparts. She ducked and stepped away from the open window, her heart slamming.
The siege engine in the south sounded again, a huge banging sound, almost like an explosion. Would they soon break the front gates down?
She ran back to the window.
“Alana!” Eleanor seized her from behind.
Alana ignored her, just as she ignored more whizzing arrows. They sounded like rocks and gravel, peppering the walls around the tower. But the missiles screamed, exploding as they hit the walls, far too close for comfort. She seized the sill and dared to look down, directly below her.
Because the north road was the fastest way to the docks and the wharves, there was a gate below, through which the castle’s supplies and provisions came.
A battering ram was being slowly pushed toward the north gate.
