“I’ve burned meself before,” she heard herself say. “A piece of bacon fat shot out of a pan at me. It caught me on the forearm.There’s a scar there about the size of a fingertip. It’s nothing in comparison to what ye have, but even so, I can remember the pain. Oh, how it burned. And the healing process wasnae easy either. How did ye recover from this?”
He shrugged. “I made poultices in the forest for meself. I’d spread them out on sheets or rags, as if I were spreading butter on bread. Then I’d lie down on them, pressing me back against them.”
“Didnae that hurt?”
He gave a short laugh. “Of course, it hurt. It hurt so much at times that I bit holes in me own tongue trying nae to scream. But I preferred that pain over the slow agony of dying of gangrene.”
Hannah shuddered. She let her hand drop.
“How did this come to happen? Who did this to ye?”
Aiden didn’t turn to face her. Instead, he let his head drop a little. She had a feeling that if she looked at his face now, she’d find his eyes glazed and distant.
“I think it would be easier to tell ye the whole story,” he murmured. “Exactly as it happened.”
Thirteen Years Ago
His own voice echoed in his head.
“This is wrong, Magnus! Ye cannae do this! This is our faither!”
Aiden closed his eyes, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.
The cell was cold and damp, with a mysterious, bilgewater puddle lapping in the center. He didn’t want to think about where the water was coming from or why it wasn’t draining away.
A soft, slimy sort of fungus coated the walls. He didn’t dare lean back against it, in case the wetness soaked through his clothes. Somebody had torn off his cloak before he was thrown in here, leaving him to shiver in a thin tunic and kilt.
A rat squeaked from somewhere in the darkness, splashing through the puddle on its busy way. It encountered Aiden’s tray of food, left just out of reach beyond the bars of the cell. Aiden watched miserably as the rat nibbled on a hunk of stiff, stale black bread. There was a jug of water too, and his dry throat clenched reflexively. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
Maybe the jailors had forgotten to hand him his food, or perhaps this was just a cruel, unusual torture they’d devised for him.
Nay, Magnus would never do that to me. But then, Magnus has done a great many things over the past few weeks that I never could have imagined he would do.
Closing his eyes, Aiden rested his forehead on his knees and concentrated on controlling his shivering and ignoring his growling stomach. He was so focused on the task that he had not heard the approaching footsteps until they were almost right outside.
His head snapped up, gaze swiveling to the cell door. A young man stood there, eyes narrowed, hand on his sword. In the darkness, his red hair seemed almost dark.
“Theodore,” Aiden managed. “Did Magnus send ye?”
Theodore gave a tight nod. “Aye. He wants to speak with ye. Ye will be shackled. Daenae resist, and daenae complain. Ye arenae to cry out as ye are taken through the halls either.”
“Why nae? Ye think that anybody would come to me aid? Magnus’s army has an iron grip on the clan,” Aiden answered sourly. “There’s none of Faither’s supporters left to help.”
Theodore pursed his lips, playing with the rusted, heavy key that would unlock the cell.
“The people arenae happy,” he said at last. “Magnus doesnae want any more disturbance. We need peace, now. He needs to settle down, and so does the clan.”
Aiden’s shoulders sagged. “So he’s going to kill me, then. He’ll kill me to remain Laird, just like he killed Faither.”
“Enough!” Theodore hissed. “If ye daenae behave, we can always leave ye here for another week.” He paused, glancing pointedly down at the food tray, now abandoned by the rat. “Hungry? If ye come along quietly, I’ll get ye some food.”
Aiden closed his eyes. It was tempting to choose his pride and refuse to give in, but what good would that do? Another few days with no food, and he’d be even weaker than he was now. Whatever Magnus had planned for him would wait. He’d have to deal with it a week from now, hungrier, weaker, and more despondent.
Best to get it over with now.
“I willnae cry out,” he said.
Theodore nodded in relief and moved to unlock the door.
