“I do nae want to marry him.”
“Because ye want to marry Torcall? Ye love him, do ye nae?”
Ceana looked up at her sister with eyes that were very much, unlike the child she had seen weeks ago. How had she matured so fast?
“Aye, I love him,” she said simply, as though she had come to terms with it. “I would marry him if he would have me, but he has always wanted to leave the clan. There was ne’er any hope for us.”
“And it doesnae hurt ye?”
“Oh, it does,” she laughed coolly. “But not as much as the thought of him dying for what he kens naught of. I do nae intend to do this, so he asks for me hand. I just do nae want him to die.”
“Ye have grown,” Alina appraised her sister with respect.
“Pain does that,” she replied softly.
“And what will ye do for Scott?”
“I will ne’er marry him!”
“Nay,” Alina said, “ye will nae.”
Ceana was shocked at her sister’s agreement, but Alina took her hands. “I cannae offer ye the love of yer life, but I can promise that ye will nae have to marry someone else. I didnae allow it to happen to meself, and I will nae allow it to happen to ye.”
Ceana didn’t fully grasp her sister’s words, but her sister went on even before she could respond. “I do nae ken what ye plan to do, but I will support ye.”
“I would rather leave the clan.”
“But ye cannae. If Torcall is to be put to death, he cannae think ye abandoned him. Play ma’s game so ye can stay in the clan still. When ye are ready, ye may leave. Ye do nae have to marry him. Nae, even ma can force ye, and since dad feels guilt, he will stand by ye. But ye must bide yer time.”
The smile on Ceana’s face was the first in ages. It was obvious just how thankful she was to have Alina back.
“Thank ye,” Ceana said.
“Thank ye for forgivin’ me,” Alina responded.
Alina pulled her sister into a hug that was the beginning of repairing the solidarity that they had exchanged.
Chapter Thirty
When the gates to his cell opened that day, Torcall knew that it wouldn’t be Francis. For one thing, Francis hadn’t appeared at his usual time, and the man was a stickler for punctuality.
“Torcall,” the clan chief’s voice boomed.
Torcall turned and bowed, addressing him properly.
“Good to see that a murderer isn’t guilty of treason,” Francis sneered from behind his brother.
The clan chief raised his hands to silence his brother.
“Will ye nae give this up, young man?” the chief asked. “Evidence points t’ye. There is nae escaping this.”
“Nae, Milaird, I will nae confess to a crime I am not guilty of.”
“Then what were ye doing there?”
“Several times, Milaird, this question has been asked, and each time, I give the same definite answer. But it has nae effect on ye. I have been chosen to die for the crimes of a murderer, and there is naught I can do. But ye must remember me words and me face after ye have killed me, and yet another young girl is killed.”
“How lovely,” Francis sneered.
