Callum nodded once, then lifted a boot to shut the door between them.
The last thing Thane saw was Aini’s face glistening with tears, and panic in her eyes. Then Nathair struck him hard on the temple and he knew no more.
Thane woke up in the back of truck, his hands and feet bound with twine and attached to the wall via a zip tie. Looking through the window between the cargo hold and the cab, he could see Nathair’s sharp profile in the driver’s seat. The events in his room at Inveraray hadn’t been a mere nightmare. All of it had actually happened.
The stone.
Thane scanned the floor, longing to see the sporran that held the stone necklace but also praying it was far, far away from Nathair. There. In the back corner—barely visible because of both the lack of light and the absence of Thane’s glasses—sat his sporran and the larger chunk of the Coronation Stone in its burlap bag. Nathair had secured both. All Thane needed to fight off Nathair was right there. So close, but completely out of reach. Thane knew his father well enough to realize Nathair had arranged this situation to further deflate any hope Thane might have. Thane shut his eyes and leaned his head against the vibrating truck bed.
He would never see Aini again.
His cruel mind brought forward an image of her laugh, the dimple in her cheek, the sound of his name on her tongue. Then he saw Callum’s gun and imagined a gun shot and could almost see her falling, bloodstained and broken, to the floor at his traitor uncle’s boots.
Thane was turned inside out, emptied.
The truck bumped down some unknown road, and his head rapped sharply on the metal grating, reminding him that his father had nearly cut his ear off. But Thane didn’t move to relieve the pain. He pressed into it, relishing the way it burned the imaginations away.
What would happen to the rebellion now that they had no Heir? He prayed with all his might that they would go on without him and defeat the king and bring someone else to power. At the same time, he begged God to get Aini out of the country before any more harm came to her. Maybe wise Bran could talk her into leaving.
Bran. Thane wouldn’t see him again either, he supposed. Bran had been the brother Thane always wanted. What would Bran do now? He was caught between two worlds—the Dionadair and the Campbells. No matter what Bran did, someone would want him dead.
Thane couldn’t stand the fact that he wouldn’t be able to communicate with any of them, to see what was going on and if they’d escaped Nathair this time. They could all be dead right now. Aini, Myles, Neve, Bran, Vera. Senga.
Mother.
Thane swallowed bile. “Did you see mum?” he shouted toward the glass dividing him from Nathair.
“What’s that?” Nathair barked back as he buzzed the window down.
“I said, did you see my mother?”
“She surprised me. I had no idea she could stir up so much trouble. She’s been dealt with. Now it’s best if you remain ignorant on the details. Be a good lad and keep your end of the bargain or I’ll find that girl of yours and she won’t like what happens then.” He raised the window back up and the truck lunged, increasing in speed.
Thane fought the urge to vomit. He was lying. Mother was fine. She had to be fine. If she wasn’t…
He could almost smell her perfume and hear her singing at the well where she used to take him on Sundays.
Chapter 23
In the Darkness
The door swung shut. Aini’s arms wouldn’t move to tear Callum’s rifle from his hands. Her feet were stuck to the dark carpeting of Thane’s bedroom and a pathetic fluttering between her ribs said there used to be a functioning heart somewhere inside her. She couldn’t let this happen.
Move, she demanded her body. Do something.
With Callum’s side to her, his gaze not directly aimed her way, she jammed her shoe into the back of his knee. He exhaled in a great huff and nearly toppled over.
“Stop that.” The gun barrel lifted, level to her nose. “I don’t want to hurt you, so stay still, lass. Just for a few more minutes. Then it’ll all be over.”
“It won’t be over. You gave Thane to Nathair and I will never, ever stop fighting to free him.”
Callum studied the ceiling and sighed heavily. “Then you’ll die and your friends with you.”
“We are prepared for that.”
“Are you? Do you even know what it feels like to lose someone you love, you, just a slip of a girl?”
A memory of her mother’s hands flashed through her mind. Delicate. Strong. Music made flesh. “I know exactly how that feels.” But she wasn’t about to share the loss of her mother with this betraying arse. “Didn’t you learn anything from Lady Greensleeves?”
Callum’s face went red with rage. “I did. I made my apologies. This is nothing like that. I’m actually saving your life. If you rebel now, I will simply act as ordered by the one I swore fealty to. The first one. My men know nothing of this yet, but I will explain it all and they will understand. Everyone downstairs will. Maybe even you. I’m only protecting us from Nathair’s rage. He is the man we must follow or we’ll all suffer. I’m protecting you, my people, and those loyal to Clan Campbell. There’s no shame in that.”
“Isn’t there?”
“I’m protecting my people. And following the king’s law.”
“King John isn’t supposed to be king. Don’t you get it? The prophecy and the stone named Thane as the Heir. John is a pretender, a monster, a fraud we must rise up against. You don’t think someday Nathair and John will come for you again? You don’t think they’ll ask something horrible from you and your people? You truly believe they’ll leave your little bubble in Perth happy and free? And even if Nathair does for some wild reason keep his word and protect your people, he is rising against the king himself. The king will come for you. Do you truly believe you’ll make it out of this mess without a scratch just by playing the role of submissive subject?” She let out a Vera-like laugh. “You’re an idiot. Thane gave you far, far too much credit.”
The sound of his name made her stomach tighten. Had they already left the grounds and escaped? Were Nathair’s men murdering and maiming everyone downstairs? She tried to look out the window, but Callum knocked the gun into her shoulder. He started to say something, but she cut him off.
“He loved you.” She stared into his bulbous eyes, forcing him to see the truth. “And you betrayed him. Do you know how many people Thane trusts? How many he loves like family?”
Callum blinked. “His mother stands with him and I’ll see she is cared for.”
“She doesn’t want to be cared for. She wants to be able to trust a man who called himself her brother-in-law and in heart to keep his promises. Senga is a rebel who refuses to live in a bubble and ignore the rest of the country’s needs!”
There was a shout outside the door, then the ground shook. The glass in the window buzzed. Callum let the gun fall, and Aini launched herself into him, knocking him to the ground. Untangling herself, she kicked him in the nose and jerked the door open.
Bran was on the stairs, fear written all over his face. “Where is Thane?”
Aini tried to say the words He is gone, but they wouldn’t come. Her throat was thick and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Bran took a labored breath. “That’s what I was afraid of. It was Nathair himself, wasn’t it?”
Aini nodded, then started quickly down the steps, going past him. “Callum is back there with a broken nose to match his broken promise.”
“Really?” Bran’s footsteps were close behind. “He ratted Thane out?”
“I don’t think he planned on doing it, but yes. Nathair threatened Perth as a whole and Callum folded under the weight of immediate danger rather than using his good head to realize we’re all trapped and starving with the government the way it is right now.”
“You sound like a real Dionadair,” Vera said as she appeared from the armory to meet them. “Bran. Nice explosion.”
“Thane is gon
e,” Bran said, sparing Aini from having to say the words aloud. “Nathair has him.”
“Did Nathair sic his men on you?” Aini’s stomach clenched and rolled over. She gripped Vera and Bran. “I need…I need a second.” She bent and let her head hang between her knees until the nausea faded. “Okay. I’m all right. Tell me. What’s going on?”
Bran held up a hand. “Mac is injured, right?” he asked Vera.
“Aye, but I can send someone else to deal with Callum.”
“We need to keep Callum here. And quiet,” Aini said. “His men don’t know—and they can’t be allowed to find out—that he betrayed us. It’ll only weaken us. Do you think you can change his mind about us, Bran? Get him to support Thane and me?”
“Maybe. Doubt it. But I know a secret passageway from Thane’s room. Vera, can you get two of yours to take him under the house? If you get Senga’s butler to help them, he can show you where to hide Callum until we know what to do with him. They can take Nathair’s men injured from the blast too.”
As Vera spoke into a phone, she led them through the armory. After giving her orders, she turned to Aini. “Nathair only brought a small contingent of armed men. They were obviously here as a distraction, so Bran gave them something to deal with. We figured you and Thane had some trouble coming at you.”
“You were right.” The blades on the walls seemed to stare down at them, silver, steely eyes. “We should use these weapons. They’re antiques, right? If Senga thinks it’s a good idea, we should carry them and tell everyone we have them and use them to show the clan representatives that we can return to the glory days when Scotland was a power on its own and France was its ally against England.”
Bran was nodding. “Aye. Not many here have family fighting the French. Not yet anyway. If we can angle things so that they see France as a potential ally against King John—”
“You mean the false king John,” Vera said.
“Exactly that,” Bran said. “Then they may see this rebellion as having a better chance of ending in success and peace.”
“Even with the Heir in Nathair’s hands?” Vera stopped, and Aini nearly ran her over. “Wait. Did he take the stone necklace, Aini?”
“He did. But we have the larger piece still, don’t we?”
“No. Nathair’s men mowed our four guards down and nabbed it from Senga’s room.”
“She is okay though?” Aini asked.
“She is, but when she learns her greatest fear has come true…” Bran traded a look with Aini.
“I’ll go to her.” She didn’t want to be the one to give Senga the news, but it felt right somehow. Thane would want Aini to tell her. “Where is she?”
“In the library, looking for a coded letter Nathair wrote to the French years ago. She thinks it might help drive a wedge between him and the false king,” Vera said.
“I’ll go there now. I’ll meet you both in the armory with anyone who wants to discuss strategy in one hour.”
Because of what she’d gone through with her father, Aini knew fear for Thane would come again and freeze her where she stood. She had to get as much accomplished as possible before she was locked in the ice, worrying about a loved one trapped in the hands of an enemy.
Senga’s hands moved quickly through a stack of paper on a huge, mahogany desk in the corner of the library. Books lined the walls and soaked in the sound of Aini’s footsteps.
Senga must’ve heard her anyway. Her head lifted and she set those gray eyes, so much like Thane’s, on Aini. Her fingers released the papers and fanned over the stack. “Where is Thane?”
Aini cleared her throat and pushed the words out of her reluctant mouth. “Nathair took him at knifepoint. He wants to use him in a display of sorts to quell this rebellion.”
Senga’s hand went to a knife tucked into her belt. “We will find him and free him.”
“Nathair doesn’t have a chance.”
Senga smiled as tears welled around her pale eyelashes. She held out her hands and Aini squeezed them. The fear Aini had been holding back stole over her with a corpse-like chill. Her teeth chattered.
“Here,” Senga said. “Sit.” She motioned toward the desk chair.
Aini had tried to act like they would be able to rescue Thane and tried to believe it herself. But it was impossible. Nathair would never leave his side again. He’d have a true army surrounding him. Even if they could charge at Nathair, Aini had no doubt Nathair would shoot Thane down before he let him escape. Thane was as good as dead.
“It’ll be all right,” Senga whispered, turning to pick up a fuzzy, tartan blanket. Tucking it around Aini and settling her into the chair, she knelt. “We will make a plan. That’ll make you feel better.”
Aini should’ve been doing this for her, not the other way around. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. You’re right.” She reached for a tissue on the desk and wiped her nose. Her hands shook so hard she dropped the tissue, and Senga retrieved it.
“I’ll get you some tea.” Senga stood and hurried out of the room, head held high.
Would she give in to her fear in the kitchens, away from Aini?
Aini hated herself. She had to be strong, but all she could see behind her closed eyes was blood running down Thane’s throat and the terror in his eyes. The finality in that look he gave her—that was the thing that stopped the blood in her veins and dissolved her hope that he’d fight his way out of Nathair’s hands or someone was coming to help. That look had said goodbye as loudly as the slam of the door.
Tugging the blanket more tightly around her, Aini covered her face and recalled every moment with Thane. She had to burn the images into her head so she wouldn’t lose them. It was all she had left now. It would have to be enough to get her through this rebellion.
Should they even go on with the rebellion? What was the point now? There was no Heir. No ghost kings to fight John. Callum had left their side. The Dionadair would lose. They would all rot in prison or fall to the firing squad’s bullets.
“Thane,” Aini whispered into the blanket. “I hope you know I loved you.”
She imagined his tortured look, the goodness all tied up in the pain. She could almost feel his hands cupping her face and the brush of his mouth on hers. He’d battled such terrible darkness to become a man she could be with. Gone against his own father. Fought for hers. He’d tortured that poor rebel for her father and for her. He’d given up his very soul to protect Aini, her father, Myles, Neve, and Senga. He’d done horrible things to keep them alive.
“I will never forget what you did for us.”
The bruised light streaming through the curtains slid over her hands, shadowing them and making her bones stand out like she was a corpse herself. A part of her had certainly died and there was no way to bring it back to life. The words came at last and brought with them a finality nothing else could. Her skeleton trembled under her skin as she spoke quietly to the dust motes floating around her face.
“Thane. Is. Gone.”
The library door opened and Senga came in with a tea tray. Myles and Neve trailed her. Myles was straight-faced. Neve’s eyes were too wide and she clenched and unclenched fists at her sides.
Senga set the tea on the table and began pouring out the amber liquid. Steam rose to join the dust in the purple light. Aini wanted to throw off her blanket, serve the tea herself, and demand Senga take some time to mourn the day’s events, but grief held her in unmovable claws.
Myles sat on the desk in front of Aini, then decided to lie down, asking Senga permission with a look. Neve sat on the arm of the chair and set her chin on Aini’s head. They didn’t say anything, but their simple presence stopped Aini’s shivering.
She shut her eyes and leaned into Neve, letting the world crash around her.
Chapter 24
A Brother Lost
Bran fell against the garden wall, his back hitting the hard surface and knocking what little breath he had out of him.
He hadn’t wanted to break open in front o
f Aini or Senga. Lord knew they didn’t need further evidence that Thane in Nathair’s hands was the worst of nightmares. A chill rushed over Bran’s flesh and he closed his eyes.
Nathair would know exactly how to hurt Thane. He’d have someone beat him, of course, as punishment for being a traitor, but that wouldn’t be the worst of it. The mind games would be darkest part of Thane’s time with him. He’d twist every deed Thane had done and peel it apart to somehow make it seem like Thane was the reason for every problem in the world.
And that promise the foolish lad had believed about Nathair leaving Aini alone? It was only a matter of time before Nathair launched some plan to get her as well. Bran wasn’t sure why he hadn’t already taken her. It wasn’t easy untangling a man’s mind. Not an evil genius’s mind like Nathair’s. Bran would bet all that it was meant to create the utmost torture for Thane and the best angle for Nathair’s play for power in Scotland.
Maybe he’d use Thane against the king. Or hand Thane to the king to soften the king toward Nathair. There were a million possibilities and every one of them ended with Bran’s best mate, his chosen brother, in terrible pain, and after that, most likely dead.
Bran kicked the wall with a heel and let out a curse, sending a flock of black birds into the lead sky. Without the Heir, without the stone, where did they all stand? Was there any chance here to turn this around?
He thought of Aini’s fierce eyes, her tears only making her passion all the more genuine. Aini. The Seer. She was what they had, and she might be enough. She had to be enough.
Bran pushed off the wall and stared toward Edinburgh. He would stand with his best mate’s girl and together with the rebels; they would at the very least give that evil genius some real trouble. He headed toward the Dionadair crowding the drive.
“Who has Macbeth’s knife?” he demanded, hope surging inside his aching chest.
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