“Well, I think that ends our wee meeting. Off ye go, lass.”
Una rose, glad to finally be dismissed, but the Abbess spoke again, stopping her in her tracks.
“Ye shouldn’t feel guilty for saving his life, Una,” the Abbess said quietly, her gaze already directed onto her papers once more. “But ye are responsible for him now. Ye had better keep an eye on him, I think.”
Swallowing thickly, Una turned away, saying nothing, and practically ran out of the room.
She couldn’t have saidwhat drove her down into the cellar after her conversation with the Abbess. It was too late for him to be getting any meals, and the soldiers on guard threw her odd looks when she passed them by.
As Una descended the steep, slippery steps, she was surprised to hear voices in the distance. Whoever had gone ahead of her had brought a candle of their own, adding to the small, stubby candle that Struan kept burning. The Abbess had said that it was cruel to make anybody sit in pure darkness, and so he was allowed one small candle. It was kept outside the cellar so that he could not try to use it to start a fire or something terrible like that.
She slipped silently through the darkness towards the twin bubbles of yellowish light. Quite abruptly, she recognized the voices. One was Struan’s, of course, and the other… The other was Kyla.
“I wish ye would talk to me, Struan. If only…” Kyla was saying, a tone of pleading in her voice.
Abruptly, Struan interrupted her.
“Talkto ye? What have I to say? All these years, Kyla, I thought ye were dead. It drove me wild, not knowing. I had no idea what had happened. I thought the worst, ye know. I imagined our father torturing ye and killing ye, burying ye in some shallow grave or even burning ye on a pyre, leaving no grave for me to visit. I thought ye were gone, but in a way, ye already were, weren’t ye?”
There was an edge of fury in his voice, Una inched closer, staying against the wall, cloaked in darkness. She could see themnow—or rather, she could see Kyla, standing in front of the cell door, wringing her hands together.
“Ye really resent me so much?” she whispered.
There was a long silence before Struan responded.
“Ye hid away like a coward,” he whispered. “Ye never thought of me, did ye?”
“That’s not true. I thought of ye every day.”
“I don’t believe ye.”
“Struan—”
“I don’t believe ye!”
His voice, suddenly raised, echoed off the walls. Una saw Kyla flinch. There was a tense moment of silence, then abruptly she turned away, snatching up her candle. The flame shook, and she covered it with a hand. She hurried away down the hallway, biting back sobs.
She didn’t seem to see Una pressed against the wall.
Una stood there for a moment, heart thumping. So Kyla was coming down here outside of Struan’s mealtimes. Privately, Una thought that the Abbess should have banned it.
And I was right. Now Kyla is upset, and Struan thinks… he thinks he can treat his sister that way. The woman who saved him.
Rage welled up inside her. Before she knew what she was doing, Una had stormed forward, into the circle of light thrown outside of the cell.
Struan stood there, half turned away from the door. He had a hand raised to his face, half-shading his brow. He flinched when Una appeared and glanced up at her with wide, surprised eyes.
“Ye,” he burst out.
Una lifted her chin. “Aye. Me. I heard how ye spoke to Kyla. Ye had better be kind to yer sister, man, or else I’ll make ye bleed.”
He chuckled incredulously. “What a threat! Make me bleed how, lassie?”
She ignored him. “It’s only thanks to yer sister that ye are alive at all, fool.”
He leaned forward against the door of the cell, fingers wrapping around the bars.
“Lass, there is no greater shame for a Dickson than to be spared in battle,” he whispered, his voice harsh. “I pray daily for my death. If Kyla cared for me at all, she’d give it to me. She’s no sister of mine.”
