Page 36 of Dark Rival

Allie looked helplessly at Aidan.

As if reading her mind, Aidan said, “He kens Moffat murdered him in the future. I willna let him hunt the deamhanain alone.”

“Thank you,” Allie whispered. Surely, surely, Moffat would not murder Royce now, in 1430? And in the moment, her fear knew no bounds.

But Royce had turned and he stared coldly at them both.

Allie realized she was holding Aidan’s hand. She let go and said, “Royce’s murder was not Fate. It was a mistake.”

Aidan returned, “Then why are ye so afraid? Why do ye believe Royce canna kill Moffat—that Moffat will live to kill him?”

Allie wrung her hands. “How can I not be afraid when I watched Royce die? Are you reading my mind?”

“Aye.”

Royce slammed his hand on the table, causing the jug, mugs and trenchers to leap. “The two of ye are fast friends? Since when? Since last night—when she bathed? What else happened last night?”

Allie gaped at him. He was jealous. Aidan didn’t seem perturbed. “I like the lass. An’ she’s worried for ye, jackal, not for me.”

Allie stood. “Royce, Aidan is my friend,” she said carefully, still stunned and wondering if she was misreading him. “And he is becoming a good friend.”

Aidan smiled and said softly, “I’m her Knight o’Swords.”

Royce’s face hardened so she said quickly, “In my time, men and women are often friends!”

“Now ye’ll tell me men an’ women are friends an’ they dinna sleep in the same bed?”

“Yes, actually, most men and women do not share a bed, just conversation, supper, wine.”

He rolled his eyes. “Aidan leaves today. Yer good friend has his own lands an’ affairs. And, Ailios? He keeps a mistress, one he is fond of.”

Allie said stubbornly, wishing she had something to knock over Royce’s head, “He’s my friend. A friend for conversation, nothing else.”

“Unfortunate as that may be,” Aidan murmured.

By now, Allie had realized he loved being an instigator. She gave him a dirty look.

“But ye wish to share wine with him!” Royce shot. “An’ what else do ye wish to share?”

Allie shook her head in denial—when torment racked her.

She gasped, the flood of pain taking her by surprise, doubling her over. She could not breathe. Pressure crushed her. She was trapped. She could not move.

“Ailios!” Royce crouched beside her, holding her shoulders.

She was breathing without any difficulty, but she knew someone had just been terribly hurt, and whoever that person was, he or she was suffocating under a terrible weight. She looked up into Royce’s wide eyes. And now, she felt the bleeding, inside his or her chest, and she felt sharp, stabbing pains, from the ribs. “Someone is hurt.” She stood. “Really badly hurt. He or she is going to die.” She stepped back from the table, Royce moving in unison with her.

“No!” She warded him off and moved into the center of the room, alone and sweating. She focused intently. So much pain. A lack of air. That awful crushing weight. And fear, gut-wrenching fear.

She opened her eyes. “There’s a village, close by, below us. Take me there!”

Royce took two strides and confronted her. “I’ll go. Ye’ll stay here at Carrick, where it’s safe. Whoever is hurt, I’ll bring him to ye.”

Allie shook her head, trying not to erupt in anger. “There is no time, Royce. Someone has been crushed by stone. He or she will die, soon. I have to go!”

“Ye’ll stay here,” Royce said harshly. “Aidan—let’s go.” He wheeled, Aidan already halfway to the door.

Allie was in disbelief. “Damn it! I’m coming, too!” She ran after them.