***
Aonghus leaned against the bars while still standing but observed the exhausted lass across from him, who had sunk onto the floor resting her face against the iron to shutter her eyes after they never rested at the inn.
He popped another pebble at a chunky longtail, who squeaked and darted opposite her leather-clad toes peeping out from under the hem’s skirt.Aye, scurry away from her, wee beastie!He had kept watch…how long had they been here? Given daylight snuffed out within the damp hell, it was difficult to tell. Most lads would have soiled their braies at the summitsshe had climbed, including stepping into these cells. She’d make a fierce warrior.
He heard a voice as if sensing his thoughts. “You only will march her spirit to death’s door, MacCade,” Sturan warned, eyeing him.
He narrowed his gaze upon the traitor, who was tying the string at the top of his braies after a piss on the back of the cell. “Words belonging to a bitter Scotsman,” Aonghus rebuked. “You are a formidable slayer, Sturan, but your choice in alliances is shite. You cannot know what the lass has chanced to be here. She has a stronger spirit than any other I have ever seen before. I do not doubt she will have her say,” he said proudly, and finished dryly at him, “It will simply be too sorrowful you shall not be there to witness it from the executioners block.”
Sturan grabbed his braies-covered crouch vulgarly, issuing a hiss at him before dropping the long tunic over his thighs. As if on cue, the barred gate gave a groan which rivaled those present, and Sir Sean was seen approaching to announce: “Sturan MacNaller, you are to be questioned within another chamber.”
The guard’s bruised eyes from the broken nose appeared almost two dark storm clouds that matched his glare given at Aonghus. “MacCade, I believe the Lord Constable granted a refusal upon your request; Sir James said so himself to me.”
From years training beside these knights and guards he had developed a keen ability to judge their movements.Look at those shoulders shrugging while Sir Sean speaks.What a lying sack of swine shite.The knight was lying, most likely under Sir James’s order.
“MacCade.” Sturan murmured his last threats for his ears alone, while passing the threshold. “Do not bother tryin’ to staywatch over the bonny lassie; I would wager you will only fail. Lord Kollungr’s mind raced wild in an odd sort of way when she escaped; he will crush anything in his way to recapture her fate back into his grasp.”
Never! The Northman wouldneverhave her in his clutches again. Aonghus watched the traitor being led away to a chamber most likely housing a thumbscrew, while a sparrow, who had to be lost, flew by the cells a moment, headed for the tunnel’s entrance.
“Refusal?” He heard a tiny voice across the tunnel from the lass, who had awakened while rubbing her eyes heavily.
Good, she hadn’t heard Sturan’s final words. “Do not fear, Keirah, Sir Sean was unsure.” His brows became one in concern when she rubbed harder. “Cluaran, are you well?”
“Night-shadow, but who can presume if it is night at this moment down here in the darkness?” she murmured, then tried standing.
He gasped, “Whoa!” when she almost tumbled over. A string of Gaelic curses from him torched the air at being unable to reach her.
She grabbed the bars, steadying herself to say eerily, “Ships sailing over mountains, most odd.” Ships sailing over mountains? What was she talking about?
“Keirah.” The hairs on his arms rose in worry at her incoherence. “Perchance you should sit back to rest a wee bit more?”
His heart lightened at seeing a slight upward curve on her lips. “All is well, MacCade, simply the pain in measure taking due…”
***
“Aonghus?” She heard a deep voice interrupt her reply.
Who was summoning her mercenary from where they had entered the tunnel? Straining against the bars, only more cells came into sight. Ugh!
Her attention snapped back toward Aonghus when he let out a long exhale as if in anguish.
“Aonghus, I know you are in the depths here, but where?” the faceless Scotsman hailed. “Sir Sean did not say which cell.”
“Over here,” Aonghus called out, “wee brother.”
“Alec?” she whispered, shocked.
He murmured in reply, “Aye.”
Her reflection was not needed on a water’s surface to tell her the disarrayed appearance she would be presenting toward his kin. Her hand tried to smooth her skirt; it was a lost cause.
A lad few years Aonghus’s younger came into view. She glimpsed the same build, raven hair, but a close-cropped beard on his strong jaw. Most likely Alec had blue eyes. Too bad she was unable to tell for sure while the broad lad charged toward his older brother’s cell – eagerly. Oh, how sweet.
Alec greeted him, the joy in his voice was like a fresh breeze to the stale air as if they all stood on High Street in Edinburgh and not in a dank dungeon. “Tall cocksman! Good to see you!”Tall cocksman?
A grin took her mercenary’s features reluctantly, like he couldn’t help himself. The pair clasped hands through the bars.
“Good to see you as well, Alec,” he replied, the warmth carrying his tone strong. “Four years – what has struck to take you from home? Your Deidre, is she well?”
