“They must’ve taken them by force,” Kaitlyn whispered, anger on her face. “Nobody in town would ever help with an attack against the castle!” But Anna was a little worried that that wasn’t true. That Kaitlyn was sympathetic to the Clan was clear — but Anna knew that many of the villagers no longer believed in the work that Donal and his men did in protecting the surrounding areas from the Unseelie Fae. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to believe that some of them, at least, might be easily persuaded into helping witch hunters launch an attack… especially if they were led to believe that there could be some gold in it for them. But she kept those suspicions to herself for now.
“Are they armed?”
“Aye, they’ve got weaponry, but they’re not firing despite being in range,” the guard babbled. “Brendan’s got us holding our fire.”
“Good. Allow their leader and his council ashore but instruct the rest of the army to remain on their ships. We’ll try to handle this diplomatically.” Donal looked worried as the guard bowed and ran out of the Hall to carry the message back.
Anna knew it was now or never. “Donal — let me sit in on the meeting. Please. I might be able to offer insight.”
He glowered at her for a moment, and she thought she was in trouble. Then something in his expression gave in. “Fine. But you’ll let me do the talking, alright? You’ll report back to me with your impressions after the meeting.”
“Yes, yes, absolutely,” she agreed, giddy — then remembered Kaitlyn, sitting at her side. “What about Kaitlyn?”
“You’d best stay here, I think,” Malcolm put in, looking at the girl with concern. “If Galen’s men see you leaving the castle, they’re bound to assume you were helping us.”
Kaitlyn nodded, her face set bravely, but Anna could see that she was worried. “Come on,” she said, offering the girl her arm. “You can hang out in the kitchens with my friends until all this is over.”
Emily and Amelia both recognized Kaitlyn — they were only a few years older than the girl, and happily took her under their wing. When Anna left them, they were both gushing over her beautiful red hair — a timeless bonding activity, Anna thought with some amusement. Now, she had a meeting to get to. But before that — she wanted to get a quick look at these soldiers. She knew of a way onto the wall that was hidden from view — a secret passage through the castle itself led out to a particular place on the wall, around the back. She followed it now, wanting to get onto the wall without drawing too much attention to herself. The wind from across the lake was bracing, and she watched her step carefully as she moved around the wall. Sure enough, as she looked out toward the village, she could see a cluster of little boats — eight in total, each bearing a gaggle of men. They were close to the castle — within firing distance of the archers, from what Anna could make out — but they were holding their position, bobbing gently on the small, choppy waves on the lake’s surface. One smaller boat was making its way toward the jetty, presumably bearing the leader and his closest advisors.
But Anna was most interested in seeing the men. She crept a little closer, keeping low to avoid being seen over the wall, squinting down at the men in their boats. They were close enough that she could make out what they were wearing — a range of mismatched armor, some of it shabby, some of it (to her horror) even rusted. What kind of an army would allow its gear to fall into such terrible disrepair? Not a very well-paid one, it seemed. And the colors were all wrong — the men in those boats belonged to half a dozen different mercenary companies at least, that was for sure. The only thing that united them was that they were sitting in the same fleet of boats. And she doubted highly that they had any discipline to speak of. They were sitting slouched and disinterested in their surroundings, their attention clearly anywhere but on the mission at hand. Her suspicions solidified — these weren’t well-trained soldiers.
Still — sixty men were sixty men, regardless of their level of discipline, and sixty was more than enough to rush the castle and do a significant amount of damage. She saw the little boat make contact with the jetty, and though she was tempted to watch the leader disembark, she knew she needed to get to the dining hall quickly so that she could spectate on the meeting. She’d given it some thought and decided to remain in her servant’s clothes. Better to draw as little attention as possible, if she was just there to spectate. And she wasn’t alone. To her surprise, a handful of servants were in the hall — as well as a number of guards, occultists and herbalists who had all come down from upstairs for the purposes of the meeting. Strength in numbers, Anna supposed — good to give the enemy leader a show of force, a hostile audience for his threats. Maeve was among the crowd, too. Anna could see her silver eyes gleaming with worry — and with determination.
And there stood Donal at the front of the hall, his pin shining on the front of his chest, his jaw set. He looked every part the charismatic leader, and Anna let herself admire him a little… just a little, before she returned her mind to surveillance mode.
She’d have to be watchful. This meeting was important — she had to trust that Donal knew how to handle it himself. But still, worry was gnawing at the pit of her stomach as Donal gave the order for the witch hunters to be shown in. What if this all went horribly wrong? What if the castle was besieged? She touched the iron knife that was still safely stowed in her servants’ clothes. Whatever happened, she wasn’t going to let the castle fall without a fight. Anna Clarke was on the front lines now, and that meant trouble for any mercenary daft enough to try her patience.
Chapter 54
The three men walked into the hall, and Anna could pick the leader straight away. This must be the man they called Galen. He wasn’t as tall as Donal (though he’d loom over Anna if she got close to him) — his brown hair was cut short and he had mean-looking hazel eyes glowering out of a face that had seen its fair share of fights and then some. At his belt hung a sword — and next to it, to her dawning horror, was what seemed to be a set of crude dentistry implements. No — she revised her guess. They were torture devices.
At his side was another man, taller than him and much rounder — a heavyset man with that peculiar, slabby fat that well-muscled men tended to develop as they got older. He looked like the muscle of the operation — he certainly moved with confidence, and the mean look in his dark eyes matched Galen’s. He must be Cam, she thought with a shudder. Kaitlyn had made it very clear how unpopular this man was in the village — he’d spent every night there drinking til dawn, and every woman in the village gave him a wide berth after the stories that the other men had told about his exploits.
Bringing up the rear was a sallow-looking man who looked even younger than Anna. He must be Father Caleb, the priest. His priest robes looked worn, but genuine enough, and he was clutching a bible in his hands as though it would protect him — but despite how tightly he was holding it, Anna could still see his hands shaking. He kept trying to smile at anyone who caught his eye, but there was a plain look of terror on his face. She revised her estimate of the priest. Unless he was the best actor on the planet, this was no mercenary in costume. This was a priest who’d somehow fallen in with a bad crowd. She would have felt sorry for him — if he and his friends weren’t threatening the lives of everyone in the castle.
“I am Donal Grant, Laird of the Sept of Loch Ness,” Donal proclaimed in a booming voice, and a murmur of support went up from the crowd in the hall. “You three are guests beneath my roof, and your safety is assured. Speak your piece.”
To Anna’s surprise, the priest darted forth, speaking in a voice that was loud enough to carry through the hall, if somewhat tremulous. “Thank you for your hospitality. May I introduce… This is Lord Galen, and his second-in-command Cam. I am F-Father Caleb.”
He’s doing a decent job, Anna thought with a barely suppressed chuckle. What was he so frightened of? His eyes kept darting around the room as if he was waiting for monsters to emerge.
“Laird Donal,” the so-called Lord Galen drawled.
(Anna would bet her eyeteeth that he had no lordship to speak of.) “I’ll be brief, we’re busy men. There are witches in these parts, and it’s our sacred duty to purge them from your midst. I have a list. All you need do is turn over those listed to our custody, and we’ll leave you in peace. Otherwise, we’ll take the castle by force.”
An ugly murmur went up from the crowd — even Anna caught her breath. Bold — very bold, to level an open threat like that. This man must have a lot of faith in his soldiers… or an arrogance developed from many successes from this particular gambit. People were very superstitious about witches, it was true. But Anna wondered if this man knew who he was dealing with — that this castle, more than most, knew about the supernatural forces that affected the world, and could see through false claims of witchcraft.
“An interesting proposition,” Donal said steadily, his eyes cold. “Am I to understand, though, that I myself am on your list?”
“That’s correct,” Galen drawled, a smug smile on his face. “You will be among our hostages, Witch-Laird Donal.”
“Your claim would bear more weight if you truly were witch hunters,” Donal said flatly, his voice cutting through the rumbles of fear and disapproval from the gathered crowd. “But I can tell from looking at you that you’re nothing but a mercenary in search of gold. Your scare tactics may have worked in other towns, but I’d strongly advise you to move on from this place, and leave the local villagers in peace, before my hospitality wears out.”
For the first time, Galen’s smug, complacent expression wavered — revealing cold anger underneath it. For a moment, Anna thought he was going to lunge at the Laird — but instead he just uttered a harsh bark of laughter.
“We have the Lord God on our side,” he snapped, gesturing angrily to Caleb — who cowered at the gesture, then scurried forward. “What do you have, but witchcraft and monsters?”
“It’s true,” Caleb squeaked. “The villagers have confessed that you consort with monsters from the depth of the lake, claiming them to be faeries. Superstitions, false superstitions to hide the truth of your works!” He seemed to warm to this line or argument. “There are no faeries! There are only demons — demons which you work here in this castle to summon, to plague the townsfolk and bring the Devil to this world!”
Donal waited for him to finish, then turned his gaze to Galen again. Anna was impressed with the way he was keeping his cool — he was every bit the measured, forceful leader, in complete control of the situation. “The words of your false priest hold no power here, Galen.”
“Then you leave us no choice,” Galen snapped, and Anna could see how close the man was to losing his cool. “We will take your castle by force. And we’ll take all your women, as guarantees of your good behavior,” he added, pointing at a cluster of servants (most of them female) who drew back from the fury in his eyes. And though Anna had sworn she’d stay silent, she couldn’t help but react as anger and righteousness filled her chest like a fire. She drew her iron blade, pointed it at Galen and took a few quick steps toward him.
“You lay a hand on a single woman here and I’ll drive this so deep down your throat you’ll be shitting iron,” she heard herself roar, voice low and deadly. And to her grim satisfaction, Galen took a couple of steps back, clearly startled by her sudden, violent outburst.
A roar of laughter went up as Galen stumbled, and he whipped around, furious. Malcolm was in hysterics by Donal’s side — the Laird himself was even fighting back a smile, trying to keep a straight face. “I think this audience is over,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. Galen stalked toward the door, apoplectic with rage, Cam at his side. Caleb followed them hesitantly, looking over his shoulder as he went with clear terror, and Anna felt a pang of sympathy for him. He clearly believed some part of what he was saying — that the people of the castle were consorting with demons, not faeries. It made sense, she supposed — but she wondered how he’d fallen in with such a terrible group, if his motives were pure.
“Prepare to defend the walls,” Donal was saying to Malcolm, his hand on his sword. Anna’s heart sank — she’d forgotten the army outside. There was a flurry of activity as the guards and soldiers in the hall ran toward the front hall, readying themselves for battle.
“Why not take their leader prisoner?” Anna demanded, racing to catch up to Donal.
“Honor,” he said, his teeth gritted. “We’re bound by laws of hospitality here. The Sidhe would never forgive us if we broke them, even for scum like that.”
“Let me fight,” she begged, her jaw tight. “Let me help defend —”
“You’ve not a scrap of armor on you,” Donal said impatiently as they strode toward the front doors of the castle. “I can’t in good conscience allow you to fight in that, no matter how strong a fighter you may think you are —”
But his voice broke off as they reached the courtyard. Anna could see why straight away. The sky, which had been blue and bright when she and Kaitlyn had gone inside the castle not an hour earlier, had come over a dull, cloudy shade of gray — and Anna caught her breath at the icy chill in the air. This was no summer rainstorm — this was something else. She felt herself start to shiver, and Donal’s arm was around her, holding her against his warm body. She stood close to him, grateful, but not understanding.
“Is this — normal? Does the weather do this often?”
“Not very often, no,” Donal murmured, his pale eyes on the sky — and then, to her surprise, he started laughing. “Oh, that Maggie — she’s always got something up her sleeve.”
Sure enough, Anna could hear the distant sound of men shouting. Donal set off toward the stairs that led up to the wall, and she followed him, wanting to know what was going on. The wind was savage and icy, whipping her hair as they walked, and she was grateful to be inside the wall. From the perspective of the top, she could see the men in the boats, shouting and moving around, clearly close to panic. Galen’s little boat was moving away from the jetty, and they could make out his furious voice, yelling at the men to retreat, to head for shore before they were all drowned in the icy waters of the Loch. Donal laughed aloud, lifting his arm to give Galen and his men a sarcastic little wave as they fought their way into a hasty retreat across the lake.
“That’s bought us some time,” he said with satisfaction, dusting off his hands.
Anna was shocked. “Truly, Maggie did that?”
“Do you still doubt that magic’s real, Anna? I thought you were clever,” he teased her as they moved down the stairs together. She rolled her eyes — but still, she was glad to know that Maggie was safe and sound in her cottage. If she could stir up that kind of weather, the only people who had anything to fear were the men who might try to bother her at home.
Donal marched back to the great hall. The people of the castle were ebullient, full of joy at the seeming success of the meeting with the witch hunters — but it was clear that Donal knew as well as Anna did that this was only the beginning of the conflict. They had some breathing room, but they’d need to shore up their defenses, discuss their strategy against this now very aggravated foe. She’d seen the anger and hatred in Galen’s eyes, and knew from the weapons he carried that he was a deeply unpleasant man to deal with. They’d have to be careful not to let anyone be taken hostage. She couldn’t help but worry about the villagers — what if they received the brunt of Galen’s thwarted fury?
She took a seat at the table where Donal met with Malcolm and Brendan to discuss the course of action, mentally daring him to stop her — and pleased to notice that he accepted her presence there. Brendan gave her a brief look, as if to confirm her acceptance, and even Malcolm seemed grudgingly tolerant of her. He was still breaking in and out of laughter at what she’d said to Galen, at how completely it had shocked the leader of the witch hunters.
Good to know that Malcolm’s allegiance was easy to win, Anna thought with a grin. All she needed was to let her foul mouth run around him and he’d be her best friend within minutes.<
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“We’ll need to be careful,” Donal said once the hubbub had died down. The majority of the folk of the castle had sidled out of the room once the activity was over, but the mood of joy persisted. “For a start, nobody enters or leaves the castle.”
“Already done,” Brendan confirmed. “My men have their orders, and the front gate’s already locked.”
“And the six around the sides of the castle?” Anna enquired innocently, catching a sharp look from Donal. “What? I thought everyone knew about those.”
“I’ll have someone double check those as well,” Brendan said, clearly fighting back a grin.
“They’re likely to try another attack once this weather clears up,” Donal said, looking around the table. “We’ll need to be prepared. Sixty men is no laughing matter, and they have boats. I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to surround us.”
“I got a good look at Galen’s so-called soldiers,” Anna put in, catching a look of surprise from Malcolm. “They’re ragged, undisciplined. Probably in it for gold and nothing else. They’ll show no loyalty once their money’s cut off. I’d advise getting ahold of Galen as soon as possible. Once he’s dealt with, the army’s likely to scatter.”
She resisted the urge to hold her breath — would Donal chasten her, tell her to mind her business? Would he take offence at being given strategic advice by a woman? She could tell he was about to speak — then, to her surprise, Brendan cut him off.
“That’s a good insight, Anna,” he said, leaning across the table toward her. She saw his game almost at once — Donal had looked up sharply at the tone in his guard captain’s voice, and his eyes were fixed on Anna. She looked at Brendan a little coyly.
“Thank you, Brendan, I do try —”
“Anna’s right,” Donal said quickly, clearly trying to break the eye contact between Anna and Brendan — she was happy to oblige, hiding a grin and seeing that Brendan was doing the same. Ah, jealousy — that ancient motivational tool. Men could be so predictable sometimes. “Our focus must be on breaking the leadership of the army. Galen, Cam and Caleb, that priest.”
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