The door creaked open. Eithne’s cousin stood there, outlined in the darkness. She couldn’t see his face, but she could see how tense he was just in his bearing. “Dinnae call me a coward, Eithne Kinnear,” he hissed. “Call me a monster, call me a villain, but never a coward.”
“And why nae? That’s what ye are,” she hissed back. “Betraying yer own kith and kin. Ye’re a devil. And a scared one at that, for ye did this all at the bidding of some Laird from Fife. Ye disgust me.”
“Watch yer tongue!” he shouted. Myrna groaned in her sleep.
“Why?” Eithne demanded. “What more can ye do to me?”
“I could kill ye,” Walter threatened, taking a step forward. “Watch me. I’ll do it without blinking.”
Eithne laughed, a cold hard laugh that she didn’t even recognize upon herself. “Kill me? Nay, ye’d get yer soldiers to do it. Rory’s soldiers. Ye’re too much of a coward to do it yerself.”
“Dinnae test me!” he growled.
“Kill me, then,” Eithne said calmly. “Do it. Ye’ll be doing me a favor, I promise ye. I’d rather me blood nourished the soils of me country here and now than have a finger laid on me by Rory MacDuff.”
Walter growled. She waited, wondering if he thought she was bluffing. She could outwait him without difficulty. She’d meant what she said – this man was a coward. “What do ye want, Eithne?” he said finally.
“What will happen to Myrna?” she asked immediately. “Rory wants to marry me. Fine. He’ll take me, he’ll force me, he’ll rape me, and then I’ll be his wife. But what of Myrna? Will he kill her?”
Walter hesitated. “I—”
That was when Eithne realized the horrible truth. “Ye dinnae ken. Ye didnae even think to ask. Yer own cousin. Yer own faither. Yer ownbrother.Did any of us mean anything to ye? Anything at all?”
“Shut yer mouth!” he yelled.
Then he stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
“Eithne?” Myrna asked quietly, her voice still heavy from sleep. Eithne moved toward her, pulling Myrna’s head onto her lap and stroking her hair. “What happened?”
“I’m here, Myrna,” Eithne whispered, trying to keep the tears from her eyes. “I’m here. Rest now. Whatever happens, I’ll be with ye.”
* * *
At some point, Myrna woke up. Eithne had lost count of how long the two of them had been sitting in the dark. It could have been hours or days – time seemed endless. She’d realized by now that the darkness wasn’t just caused by night; the windows had been blacked out and boarded up, preventing any light from getting in.
Eithne had tried the boards again, of course, breaking all of her fingernails as she tried to pry the door or a window open, leaving little cuts all over her skin. Now she sat, exhausted, in the middle of the floor with her sister by her side.
“Are they just gonnae leave us here?” Myrna asked after a long bout of silence. “Are we just gonnae die like this?”
Is that Rory’s plan? Make me watch me own sister starve to death to break the last bit of will that I have left?
But that didn’t make sense. There was no guarantee that Eithne wouldn’t go long before Myrna did, and Rory didn’t want her dead. He wanted her alive because he wanted to possess her. That, more than anything else, gave her a sick kind of strength. He couldn’t kill her. Not yet.
“Naebody is gonnae die,” she said, though her stomach clenched. So many people already had. Not just her family and Neal, but young Callum’s parents, Gregor, and apparently Jonah’s father…
“Do ye think he’s evil?” Myrna asked. She sounded like she was about to weep again.
“MacDuff? Walter?” Eithne asked.
“Nay. Jonah. Am I a fool for trusting him?” she asked quietly. “Am I a real fool that I still think there may have been a reason behind all of this?
Eithne didn’t know how to answer that. Instead, she just squeezed Myrna’s hand.
They must have been here at least a day and a night now, with only a dirty bucket of water in the corner for nourishment. They were hungry, thirsty, and exhausted, and no doubt, MacDuff expected them to be beaten down. Eithne refused, though. This would not conquer her. She had survived worse already. All of a sudden, the door burst open, and they both shied away, almost blinded by the unexpected sunlight.
“Greetings, Cousin,” she said in as measured a tone as she could manage as Walter’s figure became clear.
“I spoke to our Laird,” Walter replied without acknowledging the greeting.
