CHAPTER 39
“Easy… easy now…”
Davina’s voice was steady, though her heart hammered hard enough she feared it might give her away. The courtyard had become a storm of noise and motion, but she kept her focus narrow and sure.
On the ground before her, a young soldier struggled to breathe, his face pale beneath the grime.
“I’ve got ye,” she said, kneeling despite the chaos, ignoring the sting in her knees as stone bit through her skirts. “Look at me. Stay with me.”
His eyes flickered toward her, unfocused but clinging with desperation.
“I… I cannae feel me leg,” he whispered.
“That’s all right,” Davina said calmly, though fear twisted sharp in her chest. “Ye dinnae need tae walk just now. We will see tae that.”
She signaled to two villagers sheltering nearby. “Help me lift him. Gently.”
They hesitated only a heartbeat before obeying. Together, they hoisted the soldier. His weight was slack and frighteningly light. Davina kept one arm braced around his shoulders, murmuring reassurance all the while.
“Ye’re safe,” she told him. “We’re getting ye out of the way.”
A clash rang too close for comfort. Davina did not look up. She moved when there was space and waited when there was not, trusting the guards who had formed a partial shield around those tending the wounded. They reached the doorway at last, the inner hall Davina had designated for the injured. The healer was already there, with his sleeves darkened with blood.
“Here,” Davina said. “He needs attention.”
The healer nodded and took over at once. Davina stepped back, feeling her breath unsteady now that the task was done. She pressed her hand briefly to the wall, grounding herself, then turned back toward the courtyard. There were more voices calling, and more hands reaching. She went to them. This was where she was meant to be, not with a blade, but with steadiness.
Davina had just taken three hurried steps back into the courtyard when she saw him. Another soldier lay slumped near the fallen fountain, with one arm clutched tight to his side. Blood was darkening his sleeve. He was barely conscious and trying to drag himself toward shelter.
“I see ye,” she called, already moving. “Hold on.”
She did not see the shadow shift until it was too late. A rough hand seized her from behind, yanking her back so hard the breath tore from her lungs. Cold steel kissed her throat.
“Dinnae scream.” The voice was a whisper, yet still shaking with fury.
Her heart slammed against her ribs, but she forced herself still.
She recognized Filib at once, though his face was changed. His eyes were the eyes of a madman, his mouth was twisted by bitterness and he had grime streaked across his cheek. He was a man unmoored, broken loose in the chaos by some unseen hand.
“The Kincaids ruined me,” he hissed, pressing the knife harder. “Took everything. Me coin, me standing, me future.”
Davina’s hands lifted slowly, with her palms open, careful not to brush the blade. Around them, the fight roared on. It was far too loud and too frantic for anyone to notice what was happening in this small pocket of terror.
“Filib,” she said calmly, though her pulse thundered. “This willnae save ye.”
He laughed without any joy. “Nay? But it will hurt them.”
His grip tightened, dragging her backward toward the shadows near the inner wall. “They’ll hear about this,” he snarled. “How the laird lost his lady while he played at being a hero.”
Filib shoved her harder, forcing her back against the cold stone of the inner wall. The shadows swallowed them almost at once, the smoke and noise of battle closing like a curtain. The courtyard felt suddenly very far away. The knife pressed closer, its edge biting just enough to sting. She could feel his hand shaking with the wild, desperate energy of a man who had already lost everything.
“Quiet,” he hissed again. “One sound, and I finish this.”
Her heart hammered so loudly she was certain he must feel it through her back. Every instinct screamed at her to cry out, to fight, to draw attention, but she did not. She had to bide her time. She strained her gaze toward the chaos beyond the shadows, searching desperately for one familiar figure.
Baird.
Fear coiled tight in her chest, cold and suffocating. The memory of this already happening once rose unbidden, threatening to steal her breath.
