Chains like the ones holding his arms above his head.
He stumbled to his feet and leaned his weight against the cold stone wall behind him, alleviating the pressure on his arms.
Less pain. Better.
He was a prisoner!
The realization surprised him, loosing whatever barrier had clouded his mind. Memories flooded back in short, broken scenes. He’d been in the tunnel entrance to the castle when white light had exploded around him, burning his eyes with its intensity.
“Torquil.”
The name slipped from his lips like a curse and he dropped his head to study his chest. Dried blood colored his shirt where his brother had pierced him with his sword.
Not for the first time.
He’d been twelve when Torquil, seven years his senior, had goaded him into a practice round in the lists. Only Torquil hadn’t used a practice sword.
His half brother had professed it had been an accident as Malcolm had lain on the ground, the world turning black around him as blood pumped from his chest. He’d awoken in his father’s bed, his mother bending over him, wiping his forehead with a wet cloth, her face pinched with worry.
“It’s the Alfodr’s protection what saved you, lad,”his father had claimed.“See for yerself. He’s marked you as one of his own warriors.”
His father had lifted the compress from his chest and there, covering his heart, surrounding the torn flesh of his wound, he saw Odin’s Mark.
To this day, Malcolm had no idea how it had gotten there.
Through the Magic of Odin’s protection, he had somehow survived that first attack. Apparently Torquil had thought to have another go at it.
Across the room, metal scratched against metal and the door opened just enough to allow a small figure to slip inside.
Christiana.
“So it’s true,” she said quietly, hurrying across the room to his side. “Oh, Colm. What have they done to you?”
She reached up and placed her fingers over the bloom of dried blood on his shirt, her face wearing the same pinched expression he remembered seeing on his mother’s face all those years ago.
“Nothey,little sister. It washimwhat did this.” He had no need to protect Torquil now. Not that he really thought she would doubt the truth of it.
“I know.” She nodded her head, her eyes scanning over his body. “Yer wrists are raw around the irons. Shall I find a damp cloth for you?”
“No.” She wouldn’t be able to use it on him anyway. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Though she had grown in the time since he’d seen her last. “You’ve filled out, lass. Yer no so scrawny as you were.”
“As well I should have, dinna you think? You’ve been gone long, my brother. I’ll be twenty come Yule.”
How negligent he’d been to leave her under Torquil’s dominion for so long.
“I’m here now. I’ve come to take you away.” As he should have done long ago.
“You shouldn’t have come at all. You had to ken it would no be safe for you here. No with Father gone.”
“It is what it is.” Malcolm caught his breath, waiting as another pain lanced through his chest. Thank Freya, they seemed to be growing weaker at last. “I’m here to rescue you.”
The corners of his sister’s lips twitched and for a moment he wasn’t sure if she were going to smile or cry.
“Aye, well, yer rescue seems to have run into a bit of trouble, from the looks of it. If we can but convince our brother to set you free, you must leave at once and never return, are you clear on that?”
He shook his head stubbornly, ignoring the wave of dizziness it caused. “You need to be away from this place, little sister. You need to be rescued.”
“That I do, Colm. And I will be in time. But no by you. You must believe me in this. I’ve seen it.” She snapped her head toward the door and then turned back, leaning in close to him. “Trust me on this, beloved brother.”
