Pointing a finger, Campbell spun back to MacKenzie, who now wore a horror-stricken look on his face.
“Time to pay yer debt,” Campbell whispered.
Before another second had passed, Campbell unsheathed his sword and swung it at Laird MacKenzie. He didn't stop until the man's head fell from his shoulders and rolled to the ground with a sickening thud. Blood went everywhere, coloring the rain puddles red. His body fell to the ground next, landing at Campbell's feet.
“Even in death, ye still look like a coward,” Campbell spat.
“I will have yer head for that! Murderer!”
Campbell rolled his eyes as he looked from the decapitated body to the man who had shouted.
“Och, the ever-loyal son ready to fight for his beloved father. How pathetic.”
The man rushed forward, his sword drawn. But it wasn't worth Campbell's effort. He was bored by this already. With a wave of his hand, two of his soldiers stepped forward, intercepting him. One disarmed the man while the other ran a sword clean through his chest.
No one said a word as the red-coated sword was pulled back out. Something warm splashed on Campbell's face, near his eye. With disdain, he wiped it off and then rubbed his hand on the shirt of whoever was standing closest.
Moving through the shocked crowd at a snail's pace, Campbell left everyone in suspense. His men were ready to attack if given the order. But Campbell had other ideas in mind. He hobbled to the front steps, where Laird MacKenzie had stood only moments before. As he searched the crowd, he was pleased to find that none of the MacKenzie men would look him in the eye. They were all too frightened to meet his gaze.
“Allow me to make one thing clear,” Campbell said, addressing the crowd, “MacKenzie Castle, this clan, these lands—they are all under siege as of this moment. They are mine.”
A handful of MacKenzie guards flashed up looks of shock and anger. Campbell made mental note of their faces, ready to squash any insubordination. He would have thought beheading their Laird and killing the heir would have been enough, but he was never one to shy away from enforcing his power when needed.
“This does nae have to be difficult. In fact, I will do my verra best to make it simple for you. I will give ye all two choices. Thefirst is death. Those who dinnae wish to join me, step forward, and you will be dispatched quickly. This is the only time I will offer ye a painless death.”
He waited for a moment, letting his implied threat blanket the men in front of him.
“Yer second choice,” he finally continued, “is to join me.”
Campbell shifted his weight on his crutch, irritated by its presence. Despite all that was happening, he had been unable to forget, even for a second, his leg. The fact irritated him to no end. A bottle of whiskey was growing more and more enticing the longer he stood.
“I dinnae need to tell ye the facts ye have already heard. My grandfather, a Celtic king, taught me all there is to ken about leading an empire, and that is what I intend to do. It will be nay surprise to ye that my destiny is to overtake Murray Castle once and for all. Join me and become part of the greatest force these Highlands have ever seen. Together, these lands will fuse with Murray lands and join my own clan. We will stretch from shore to shore. There will be none who can bear to stand against us.”
He spoke faster and faster, getting caught up in the thrill of his plans. The taste of victory lingered on his tongue, teasing him, taunting him for more.
“Join me and watch as I transform these Highlands into a clan, a kingdom the likes of which has never been seen before.” He panted as a cold sweat ran down his temples. “Those are yer choices, lads. Join me and live, or refuse me and die. I will give ye a minute to consider.”
Trying to collect himself, Campbell turned his back to the crowd and smoothed the strands of hair that had fallen into his face. Wet and cold from the rain, his hair didn't want to stay in place well, as water dripped from the ends of the strands down his back. The water turned his muted brown, straggly hair into an almost black color that shined against the reflection ofhis crown. Even that felt off kilter on top of his head. While the ornament typically made him feel powerful and in control, right now, it felt like it was squeezing his head. He was too overwrought to seem in control. Campbell sniffed and wiped at his never straight nose. Pushing down the pain, ignoring the throb in his leg, Campbell sucked in a breath that was more shaky than steadying. But it was the best he could do. His patience was gone as the cry for warmth from a bath and a glass of whiskey grew louder in his mind.
Spinning back around, Campbell searched the crowd once more, this time with a much more stern look on his face. He was in no mood to wait around even a second longer than he already had.
“What will it be?” he demanded.
The men looked between each other, trying Campbell's patience. He spun the sword in his hand around, getting ready to wield it.
“Well? Shall I give the order?”
His own men looked like they were itching for the chance to start a fight. Their bloodlust nearly rivaled his own. Campbell made to move forward and that was all it took.
Nearly stumbling over himself, the first man crashed to his knee with his chin tucked and head bowed. The next man followed suit until an entire wave of soldiers was kneeling on the ground, their eyes on the mud, effectively pledging their allegiance to him.
“That is what I thought.”
“Let me out!”Caitria cried hoarsely. “Please, someone. Hear me! Dinnae forget about me.”
Her voice broke in anguish. She hadn't realized that she was locked inside. In all likelihood, her door was always locked, she had merely never tried to open it before. Before, it didn't matter if she couldn't get out or if someone forgot about her.
Caitria slid to the ground, her fingers still clutching the doorknob in a hopeless attempt to will it open. Her entire body was leaning against the door, though her head bobbed forward. She was too weary to even bother holding that up anymore.
