Page 55 of Keepers of the Highland Crown
Brayden grinned. “Check that your weapons are present before you take your leave.”
Callum raised the dagger he’d lifted off the guard who dragged him into this cell. “You were being a shite on purpose!” Kameron gasped.
“Aye.” Callum’s nodded. “I needed to anger the guard, create a distraction, then hang on to the guard who dragged me in here for the ruse to work.”
Holger snorted. “Impressive; however, one dagger against a full guard who will be armed and alert upon their return? Slim chance at success.”
Callum shook his head. “Who stated there would be either forthwith?”
Holger looked at him, puzzled. “Then do tell, Scotsman.”
“Well, Northman, before I declare all, I must question you.” Holger lifted the brow above his good eye. “Will you seek any means for the treaty’s success? A time of peace between our two kingdoms?”
“For certain. King Magnus is the Kingdom of Norway’s future; he shall create a fresh dawn for my countrymen. One which I do not seek muddied by Lord MacMardan’s greedy choice for a new king. Nor Sir – pardon, ‘King’ James of the Isles as a new monarch to release further chaos for my countrymen.”
“Then take heart.” Callum nodded at Brayden before the dagger sailed across the passageway, landing with a clank into Brayden’s cell. “Sir Brayden is a master at picking locks, and we are about to unleash fury upon the warriors in this keep.”
Chapter 29
Nella ran her fingers over her neck. Was there any spark from goodness left in Keithen? No. His eyes were a hollow darkness. The grotesque words about his late wife and bairn were his true feelings. Any show in remorse by Keithen within their earlier discussions had been as false as their ‘friendship’.
All! It all had been for appearances only. Every look or word or gesture ever since his late sire’s death as they set forth on how a third in lands were to be seen about had been a lie.
Callum. His avid assurance that it was not her fault warmed her heart as much as the hearth she sat before. Yet the bitter taste in her mouth like she had chewed a sour apple remained. As she threw her head into her hands, the unshed tears as she walked here now washed her face.
What had she wanted to shout at Callum when he said he would come for her? “Leave me!” she screamed at the granite wall. How could her knight stand the sight of her if she felt ill in her own skin at how blind she had been? If she could not forgive herself for such a witless act, how could she ever wish for Callum to?
Her shoulders shook with sobs when a crash from anger hit her like a fist to her heart. “How! How had I been so blind?” she whispered into her palms soaked by salt.
Wiping her face with her sleeve, she stared into the flames dancing about gaily like the dancers at Lady Alaina’sfeast. What to do? Give up? Crawl into a hole? All the years enduring the cruel hand of the Kingmaker’s sire had led her here. Had it all been for naught? Now she was to suffer at the whim of the son as well? Really? Her eyes narrowed.
Absolutely.
Not.
Going.
To.
Happen!
The last tears she rubbed from her cheek with a fist. Even if she could not forgive herself nor saddle Callum with such an ‘evil charm’, the name her late sire called her many times, it didn’t mean she couldn’t work to make this right. At least for the ones who she had placed at chance from her ill-witted ways.
Where are you, Callum?She tilted her skull more.
Whoosh. A gust whispering through the arrow slit.Screech. Owl hunting on the forest edges beyond the keep.Meow. Squeak.Cat and mouse engaged in battle down the passageway; that was fitting for all to come. Huh, no voices; odd. Keithen must have warned his warriors to remain silent.
Scratch, scratch. No, this wasn’t a rat scampering. What was that sound signature… It seemed so familiar. Ah, aye; quill upon parchment.
“This has been seen to?” There was Keithen, the wretch.
“Aye, the wine I delivered unto Perth shall be served to Alec directly before Sir Sean leaves for the abbey.” Her jaw dropped. Keithen was going to poison Alec same as those at the tavern!
Smack!Keithen must have slapped the warrior. “What have I told you?”
“Pardon,” the warrior stammered.
Scratch. Scratch.Keithen knew. He knew she was listening; they were writing instead of speaking again so shewould not hear. Giving an inward yell by frustration, she clenched her fist tighter in her lap. Soon. Soon her Callum would come.When he does, no amount of deceit nor tactics nor greed will save you, Keithen MacMardan.
