Drostan held up a hand as he looked at his cousin.
“Think,” Drostan said with irritation. “Nikolaus was the village elder. With Nikolaus dead, Cam could assume his grandfather’s mantle. Netherton will rise up if he asks them tae. They loved Nikolaus and they will follow his grandson. That is a problem we dunna need.”
Ternan eyed his cousin, not at all pleased with any of this. Nikolaus wasn’t dead; he was very much alive in the vaults of Kirkburn, but Drostan didn’t know that and he never would. It wasn’t as if Ternan could confess that he’d saved the old man’s life in a moment of weakness. Therefore, he had to go along with the assumption that Nikolaus was dead.
“So ye send him tae The Cal where he can learn tae fight?” Ternan said. “He’ll come back and kill us all.”
Drostan gave him an expression that suggested he’d just said something ridiculous. “He’ll never survive The Cal,” he said. “’Tis a fight guild. They’ll chop him tae pieces and feed him tae the dogs, and we’ll be well rid of him.”
“Then ye’ve sent him tae his death?”
“Aye. I’ve no choice if we dunna want the added complication.”
No guilt, no emotion. That was Drostan. To him, the village of Netherton was simply a means to an end. He’d destroyed it and now he’d sent its native son off to be destroyed at the Ludus Caledonia.
*
He wasn’t surehe would even find her here.
Having just left Kirkburn Castle, Cam found his way to the Vale of Demons. Blindly, with a muddled mind and a shatteredheart, but in spite of the hell of the past two days, he knew one thing—
He had to tell Isadora that he was leaving.
The vale was dark at this hour and he was moving by moonlight, the same moon that had been full and bright overhead on the evening that he’d returned from Brechin only to find Netherton in flames.
In that moment, everything had changed.
It was like a nightmare now, one that he would never awaken from. Cam felt as if he was the walking dead, dead inside because of everything he’d seen. Death in Netherton that he never imagined possible, seeing the bodies of friends and neighbors, seeing hell upon earth. The smoke, the smell of flesh, had been so heavy that it had nearly choked him, but he soldiered on, searching the rubble for Nikolaus.
There had been no sign.
Cam was coming to think that his grandfather must have been caught up in the great fires that were still burning, his body reduced to ash. Perhaps he would never be found. As he’d told Drostan, there had been no trace.
Then ye must assume he’s dead.
That had been Drostan’s response. It was something Cam hadn’t been able to put into words until that moment, but hearing those words had been like a hammer to his skull. The pain had been intense.
So had the sense of vengeance.
But he couldn’t simply leave without telling Isadora where he was going. He thought to ask her to go with him, but that wouldn’t be fair to her. This wasn’t her fight. To take her away from the hills she loved and into something unknown and dangerous simply wasn’t fair to her, but he wanted her to know that leaving was something he had to do.
But he’d return for her.
That much, he would promise her. When all was said and done, and those responsible for his grandfather’s death were punished, then he would return for her. He would marry her and they would live wherever she wanted to live, in the hills or in a village. Perhaps they would even live in Brechin.
She’s from the hills. That means she’s either Ruthven or Keith.
More words that were like a blow to his heart. Cam closed his eyes tightly, trying to block out the implication. He knew the Keith had burned Netherton; Drostan had confirmed it. What if Isadora had been part of that group? What if it had been her own kin who had burned down Netherton?
But, no…
He didn’t know that for certain. He didn’t know for certain if she was a Keith. He found himself praying that she wasn’t, praying that somehow, she would find him here in the vale and he could tell her everything he needed to say. He could have looked for her in the hills, but he had no idea where to start. Moreover, he didn’t have the time.
He had a vow to fulfill.
By the time dawn began to color the eastern sky, Cam was forced to resign himself to the fact that he would not be able to find Isadora and tell her what had happened. As he sat on a rock next to the stream where he’d first kissed her, it began to occur to him that even though he would not be able to tell her face to face that he’d return for her, perhaps he could leave her a sign. Perhaps she would return to the vale at some point and see it and know Cam had been here.
Waiting for her.
