Ciaran met the older man’s eyes. There was grief there. There was an accusation, too. MacKenna had not come to rage at him like a broken father in a ballad. He had come to speak the one truth that had already sunk its teeth into Ciaran’s throat.
He wassupposedto protect her.
Every part of him wanted to say that he had tried. That he had sent guards. That he had opened his home. That he had doneevery practical thing a man could do after the fire. But none of it mattered enough. His wife was gone.
“I will bring her back,” he vowed.
MacKenna said nothing.
Ciaran took one step closer, the crushed note still in his hand. “If it is the last thing I do, I will bring her back.”
MacKenna held his gaze for one long second and then gave a short nod. “Then go.”
Ciaran turned without another word.
The yard was already alive. Men were dragging saddles into place, tightening girths, and checking blades. Horses stamped and blew clouds into the cold morning air. One of Hector’s men was fastening a waterskin to the rear of a saddle while another slung a coil of rope over his shoulder.
The gates stood open just wide enough to let the first riders through when the order came.
Hector met him on his horse. “Tracks?”
“We ride first to the break in the road.” Ciaran took the reins. “After that, we follow whatever the ground will give us. If itsplits, we split. I also want runners back to the castle every hour, whether they have news or nae.”
“Aye.”
“This isnae just any other task, Hector. This is me wife. I want her found.”
Hector handed him his gloves. “And if we find the bastard himself?”
Ciaran pulled his gloves on, finger by finger. “Then pray he has already made peace with God.”
He mounted in one motion.
The horse shifted under him, eager and ready. Around him, the other riders swung themselves up into their saddles. Bruce tore into the yard and barked furiously at the horses as if he meant to join the search. One of the grooms caught him before he was crushed by a hoof.
Ciaran looked once toward the upper windows of the castle. Somewhere behind that stone was Ava’s chamber, empty now because he had failed her too many times and someone else had taken advantage of every crack left by his weakness.
He would have time later to hate himself properly for that. He had no use for the feeling now except as fuel.
He drew his sword and lifted it. “Ride!”
The gates opened wider, and horses surged forward. The castle dropped behind him, and the road stretched ahead.
With the morning breaking cold around him, Ciaran rode out with one single purpose: to find his wife.
CHAPTER 29
The first thingAva felt was the pain in her wrists.
The rope bit hard each time the horse jolted or the man beside her yanked her forward.
She had stopped trying to count turns; the ground changed too often beneath her feet. Grass gave way to stone, stone to rough earth, then rough earth to a narrow path that forced her half sideways while the men moved around her. From the way they did, she could tell they knew exactly where they were going. She, on the other hand, did not.
The cold wind whipped at her face, and her hair had come loose long ago and kept blowing across her mouth. She spat it away and twisted again against the grip on her arm.
“Let go of me.”
The man holding her only tightened his grip.
