by Arial Burnz
Davina ducked behind the stables and snuck inside the hidden passage through the back wall. Somehow this exit gave her a separation from the castle and its members within, as well as not attracting any attention going out the front gate. Closing the wall behind her, she stepped out and faced the bordering forest. Tall and strong, the trees offered refuge from the anger, the betrayal, the confusion, and gave her some measure of strength. She stepped forward and ambled amongst the trees, seeing the flakes of falling snow from the sky and the branches above. A forceful breeze kicked up and caused her to duck into the warmth of her cloak with Cailin until the pressing wind passed. Clods of snow fell from above, dropping around them.
She sighed and gazed back at the castle. From here she could make a better effort at being more objective. The pain of Myrna’s betrayal stabbed her gut. Still, the reality that her father had been a willing participant nagged at her conscience. She didn’t give Myrna time to explain, yet at that moment she didn’t want explanations. Anger and betrayal ruled her mind. Davina hated the idea, but it might also be possible that Myrna was not a willing participant, which cast her father in a very undesirable light. She shook her head. Her own experiences with her father, doing what he wanted for his own benefit in spite of the sacrifices others made, also tugged at her resolve. Forcing Davina to marry Ian to better the family situation—in spite of the pain he caused her even after her father knew the truth—did override his ability to dissolve the marriage when they had the chance. It crushed Davina to think he would take his position this far and have his way with Myrna.
Leaning against one of the trees, she closed her eyes and absorbed the sturdy energy emanating from the towering pine, her cheeks wet and cold from crying. Cailin’s hand touched her cheek and she opened her eyes to view her daughter. With an uncanny intelligence, her baby girl searched Davina’s face, almost as if offering her support, as if to ask what she could do. Davina kissed her daughter’s cheek and buried her face in her neck, holding her close and keeping her warm.
Davina gasped as a hand clutched her hair and forced her head up. Cailin wailed as Davina stared into the murderous glare of a man she thought she would never see again, his knifepoint pressed against her cheek.
“Surprised to see me, Davina?” Ian gritted over Cailin’s cries.
Davina’s mouth hung open as she struggled to maintain a grip on her daughter.
“You saved me a lot of trouble,” Ian said with that familiar menacing grin. “I’m very glad you decided to come out of your own accord, or I would have had to kill a few people to get to you.”
Davina couldn’t utter a word, so filled with terror at seeing Ian risen from the grave, her and her daughter’s lives in his hands. Cailin’s continuing cries echoed through the forest.
Chapter Thirteen
“Ian!” Rosselyn stood several feet away from them. “My God, what are you—?”
“Shut up!” Ian turned to face Rosselyn, using Davina and Cailin as a shield. Davina could feel the cold blade against her throat. Thankfully, she was able to get a better grip on Cailin, and did what she could to calm her by rubbing her back.
“Ian, please let them go!” Rosselyn stepped forward, her hands outreached.
He hugged Davina and Cailin closer, pressing the blade harder against Davina’s flesh, causing her to wince as the tip broke her skin. In a calm steel voice, Ian said, “You go back inside and tell Tammus to come out here, and we will discuss what I’m doing here and what I want. Do so quickly, or their blood will be on your hands.”
Rosselyn nodded and turned around without hesitation, sprinting back toward the castle and the front gate of the perimeter wall.
Ian pushed Davina toward the ground, and she made every effort to keep from dropping her daughter as she tripped forward into the snow. His eyes fell to Cailin, still crying, and a frown turned down the corners of his mouth. “I should have beaten her out of you, too,” Ian sneered, steam rising from his mouth in the cold air.
“Bastard!” Davina turned Cailin away from Ian and rubbed her child’s back. “Why can you not leave me alone! What—!”
“I would like nothing better than to have you out of my life!”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because you have what belongs to me! You, my father, your father…you have all kept me from what has rightfully been mine since birth!” He stood over her, almost nose-to-nose. “You have my inheritance, and I mean to have it!”
“Money?” Davina stood in shock as she watched him pace in frustration. “Is that all this has ever been about? Money?”
He turned incredulous eyes toward her, his mouth open. “You think I’m here for you?” He laughed, a most maniacal sound that sent shivers through her. “You think I ever wanted to be shackled with you and a child? I did everything I could to get out of our marriage.”
“You had your chance to get out of this marriage!” Davina countered over the wailing of her daughter. “When my father said he would dissolve the marriage if you kept abusing me, you should have just continued to beat me! I do not—”
“That may have dissolved the marriage, but my father would have still withheld from me!” Ian shook his head. “Women are so stupid, and you’re the worst of them all. In order for me to get anything, I had to be the model husband. Proving you were stupid and crazy was my way to save face, you stupid bitch! I was so close to getting that, too, and then you became with child, locking us into the marriage!” He pointed to Cailin and stalked to tower over Davina. “You just needed to swallow your pride and—”
An arrow grazed Ian’s shoulder and he growled, clutching his arm. Standing on a garret on the perimeter wall, one of the patrols had an empty crossbow and an ashen white face realizing he’d missed his target. Leaping forward, Ian grabbed Davina and Cailin again, stood behind her and put the point of his blade to her throat. Tammus ran forward and cautiously stepped as he approached them, his hands out in front of him and a scowl on his face. “Ian, you let Davina—”
“Shut your mouth!” Ian demanded over Cailin’s screams. “I want my inheritance! Four thousand gold unicorns!”
Tammus blanched. “Four thous—! Ian, we do not have that kind of—”
“I know you sold my holdings, and I know the money and my inheritance upon my father’s death went to Davina! Pray you didn’t spend it all by now, because if you did, I will take it out of her.”
Tammus inhaled a deep calming breath, but his voice still trembled. “Ian, this will take time to obtain.”
“I understand that, Tammus,” Ian said in his icy-calm tone that always belied the foul expression on his face. “Until you gather my money, I will have Davina and her child with me. I want the keys to the Stewart Glen New Lodge, provisions, a new horse, blankets and anything else you can think of to make Davina comfortable.”
Davina knew any comforts her family provided would be for Ian.
“It may take days to get that kind of money together, Ian. Or longer.”
Ian pressed the blade into Davina’s chin, and the tip pierced her skin. The face of her uncle paled. “The longer I have Davina, the more she’ll suffer. I suggest you get the money as quickly as you can.”
Tammus grunted and turned to the man on the perimeter wall. “Do not let them out of your sight!” he called to the man, who nodded. Tammus turned to Ian. “You understand, of course.”
“Of course,” Ian said, cold humor in his voice.
Tammus stopped with horror in his eyes. Davina had the exact same reaction to Ian’s evil calm the first time she witnessed it.
Ian remained standing behind Davina, holding her against him. She realized he wasn’t going to let her go since they had a crossbow trained on them. Cailin began quieting down in the lack of activity.
“It has been a long time, Davina.” He nuzzled her neck, and she shuddered. “Do you not miss me in your bed?” He chuckled at her silence. “‘Tis much time to be made up for, wife.”
Davina held Cailin tigh
ter. Please God. Let night fall swiftly.
* * * * *
“Nica!”
Dusk settled on the horizon as Amice watched Rosselyn stumble toward Nicabar, who just came back from a day of searching for Veronique. Other than the place where he took Amice, he and their party found no signs of Veronique, or any lair to speak of. Her heart ached with the realization she may never see her granddaughter again. Amice stressed that they return before nightfall. They did so empty handed. Rosselyn’s hands clutched at her skirts as she stumbled into the snow. Nicabar rushed toward her and she rose only to fall into his arms. Amice shuffled toward the frantic woman.
Rosselyn panted and clung to Nicabar. “Oh, God, Nica! You…have to help…her! He has…taken her away!”
Nicabar helped her to a stool and rushed to get a blanket.
Amice came over as he pulled the blanket under Rosselyn’s chin and bruised cheek.
“What happened?” he demanded. “Who did this to you!”
Amice patted his shoulder. “Let her rest, Nica. She cannot answer you if she collapses.”
“I’m well enough,” she said, catching her breath. She implored Nicabar, “He has taken her and the baby! Please, we have to—”
He knelt before her and held her hands in his. “Slowly, Rosselyn,” he told her. “Who are you talking about? Who has taken—?”
“Ian has taken Davina and the baby.”
“Who is Ian?”
“Ian is Davina’s husband.” She darted her eyes at Amice, Nicabar and some of the others who gathered around. “We thought he was dead, but he has come back!” Her words hitched through her sobs. “We must go after them!”
Nicabar held Rosselyn and caressed her cheek as he spoke. “Easy now, mi amor. Which way did they travel?”
“West, into the forest.” She breathed deep and addressed Amice. “Broderick can find them. He’ll go after them, will he not?”
Amice studied the dark, overhanging clouds that crawled in from the North throughout the day. Though they couldn’t see the setting sun, evening traveled fast upon them. Broderick would rise very soon. “Oui, I am sure he will.”
“Where is he now? Should we not find him?” Rosselyn asked.
Amice patted Rosselyn’s hand in assurance. “He will know where we are. Let us go to the castle and organize supplies for him.” Amice walked in a fog, her senses numb. The loss of her granddaughter weighed heavily upon her, yet other lives were now at stake. Her old heart would not take much more of the chaos. Drawing a deep breath, she succumbed to the numbness, knowing it would help her through the next several hours.
Grabbing her basket of herbs, she allowed Nicabar to help her over to one of the camp horses, a younger Gypsy pulling Amice into the saddle in front of him. Nicabar mounted his horse and Rosselyn joined him. With haste, Nicabar led everyone through the snow and toward the castle.
* * * * *
Davina’s hands had grown numb. The ropes, bound tight about her wrists, cut into her skin and grew tacky with blood, which trickled down her arms and stained the sleeves of her dress. Dots of her blood littered the front of her gown, and her cloak hung around her neck, down her back, choking her as she trekked through the knee-deep snow. Ahead of her, through flakes as soft as thistle down, she stared at the rigid form of Ian’s back. The rope—long enough to keep her away from the horse’s hooves but not from the up-flung snow—remained a constant reminder of this man’s savagery.
Cailin sat before Ian in the saddle, bawling, her howls causing Davina anguish too great to ignore. Hours passed since Cailin had eaten. The bodice of Davina’s gown stiffened, sticky with her milk, and her breasts ached from the need to release them.
“Ian!”
Under Cailin’s sobs, she could hear Ian humming some nameless tune. She watched him gorge on a chicken leg her family packed, eating in front of Cailin and purposefully pulling away from her any time her tiny hands reached for the food.
“Ian! Cailin needs to eat!”
“Be quiet,” he said, and continued humming.
“Damn you, Ian! She’s hungry!”
Ian kicked his heels into the side of the horse, and Davina yelped, struggling to keep up. Her skirts tripped her and she fell, dragging behind the horse, the snow scraping her face as she fought for air. Her hands, deadened from the cold, would surely tear from her body. Somewhere along the way her cloak ripped from her shoulders. At last, Ian stopped the horse. Turning onto her back, she drew deep, icy breaths and gritted her teeth.
“Had enough?”
She struggled to open her eyes.
Ian smiled from his position in the saddle, mocking her. “It wouldn’t do Cailin any good to have her mother killed. Who would protect and feed her?” He laughed, turned the horse, and continued his lazy pace. Before he could drag her again, Davina staggered to her feet. A deep hate—like nothing she’d ever known—burned inside her.
* * * * *
“Broderick!” Davina’s hands reached out from the darkness, an unseen force pulling her back. Cailin wailed in the distance and his heart reached for both Davina and her child. “Broderick! Where are you?”
“I’m here, Davina!” Broderick ran into the black forest, dodging trees and stumbling in the snow. Blood spots littered the front of him. Stopping, he searched to find the source of the wounds. Blood trickled down his arms from his bound wrists.
Davina called for him again, but she sounded miles away. “Davina!” Running toward her fading voice, he turned the corner of a ridge and stopped with fright—Ian’s menacing face nose-to-nose with him.
Broderick’s eyes opened and he stared at the craggy ceiling, motionless. These dreams were becoming too coincidental over the last several nights—they reflected the waking world around him as he slept, all of it connected to Davina. He clenched his jaw, rose and worked out the stiffness in his body. Broderick tensed from the rustling inside his cave. With lightning speed and sword drawn, he burst out from behind his curtains in a fighting stance, waiting to confront whoever came into the cave.
Amice gasped and stood wide-eyed before him. When her eyes went down his body and her cheeks bloomed with color, he dared to follow her eyes. He was naked. Broderick’s own face burned with embarrassment and he disappeared behind his curtains to sheath his sword and dress in haste. Trying to keep his voice even and calm, he cleared his throat. “I hope you have good news for me.” The silence gave Broderick pause, and a heavy cloak of dismay disturbed his heart.
“Angus has Veronique. They could not find his lair.”
Broderick clenched his fists.
“And Ian has Davina and her baby Cailin.”
The dream. Half-dressed, he emerged from behind his curtains and Amice’s sorrowful eyes revealed her turmoil. They stood staring at each other, the unsaid situation hovering between them like an evil entity. Angus pulled his heart in one direction and Ian pulled his heart in another. Amice would not make him choose, yet he was the only one who could rescue both of these women who meant so much to him.
Stepping back behind his curtains, he slipped into his shirt, grabbed his sword and threw the baldric over his shoulder, nestling his blade at his hip. As he stepped out onto the snow, he fastened his belt and sporran. Amice came up behind him and put her hand upon his arm.
Through her sobs, she said, “You cannot be in two places at once. No one but you can face Angus, and yet…” She faltered in her words. “I do not know how much hope is left for Veronique, my son. Oh, that you could save them both, but I have come to the truth today that my Veronique may already be dead. My tea leaves have said as much.”
Broderick knelt before his old friend. Wrapping her in his arms, he let her cry.
Amice gained her voice again and framed Broderick’s face with her wrinkled hands. “Davina has a better chance at surviving her situation, but I greatly fear for her baby.” She swallowed and fought a new flow of tears. “It is her you must go after, my son.”
He kissed Amice’s brow, and s
weeping her into his arms, he set off toward the castle of Stewart Glen, amidst the snow flurries, using his immortal speed to glide over the snow.
As they approached the castle, he slowed to a more acceptable pace lest anyone see them, and headed straight to the front entrance. Rosselyn stood waiting to show them the way. Dashing down the hall, Broderick turned into the parlor. A rush of people surrounded him, all speaking at once. Myrna, Nicabar, Lilias, and a few other people he didn’t recognize.
A man with chestnut-brown hair stepped forward, who Broderick recognized from the day Davina took ill from the poison, silencing the rise of voices. “Thank you for coming, Broderick. I’m Tammus Keith, Davina’s uncle.”
Broderick nodded. “Amice briefed me about most of what happened on the way here. How long ago did they leave?”
“Almost three hours. Ian took them to a small summer lodge the family has just west of here, and should probably be there by now, if the weather hasn’t been too unforgiving and they maintained a steady pace.” Tammus frowned, worry in his eyes. “He demanded four thousand gold unicorns and I haven’t been able to gather the ransom just yet.”
“You won’t need the money,” Broderick growled. “Which—”
“But he said if we didn’t bring him the ransom—”
Broderick stepped forward, piercing Tammus with his eyes. “Dead men don’t need money, my friend.”
Tammus opened his mouth to protest. Broderick heard the man thinking of the safety of his nieces, but Tammus’s thoughts and mask of concern melted with understanding.