Chapter 18
“Where is she now?”
Frederick did not slow his stride as he spoke, though Lennox kept pace easily beside him.
“In the northern village,” Lennox replied, following Frederick out into the courtyard, where their horses were already saddled. “Her father has nae left her side.”
Frederick nodded once, his jaw set. “Alive, then?”
“Aye,” Lennox said. “Shaken, but whole as far as they can tell.”
Frederick exhaled slowly, though the breath did little to ease the tension that had settled into his chest. Alive was more than they had expected. More than they had hoped for, if he was being honest with himself.
“And she speaks?” he asked.
“She tries,” Lennox answered. “It comes in pieces. Her faither said she was given something. A draught, perhaps. Her thoughts are… unsettled.”
Frederick’s brow furrowed. “Aye. That would account for it. And the healer?”
“Erin is on her way,” Lennox said quickly as he mounted and urged their horses into a sprint. At this speed, they would be at the northern village by midday.
Neither man slowed as they pushed their horses to the absolute brink of exhaustion. These were war-bred stallions, used to the pressure and the challenge of being the first into battle. While this was not war, it was equally as imperative that they arrived at the destination without delay.
As they approached, Frederick led his stallion all the way to the cottage before he even thought to slow. Lennox had waved on the stable boys at the entrance to the village, and they were following quickly behind.
As the men dismounted, the horses dutifully walked themselves to the nearest water trough and waited for the stable boys to arrive and guide them to the stables back at the entrance.
“Who else is within?” Frederick asked.
“Her faither,” Lennox said. “And a few of the off-duty perimeter guards linger near the door.”
Frederick gave a short nod. “See that they keep their distance. The lass will nae speak freely with a crowd pressing in.”
Lennox inclined his head. “Aye.”
They reached the doorway, and Lennox moved ahead to clear the space with a few quiet words. The guards stepped back at once, giving way without question.
Frederick entered.
The cottage was dim. Though a small fire burned low in the hearth, its warmth barely touching the chill that clung to the stone.
The girl sat upon a bench near the fire, her posture hunched inward as though she sought to make herself smaller. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, fingers twisting against one another in restless motion. Her hair hung loose and uneven, as if it had been hastily cut or torn.
Beside her stood a man, Frederick addressed at once. “Fergus. Man, we came as soon as we got word.”
Fergus MacAllum looked older than Frederick remembered, though it had not been so long since he had last seen him. His shoulders were drawn tight, his gaze fixed on his daughter with a sharpness that spoke of sleepless nights and too many unanswered questions.
“Me laird,” Fergus said, straightening as Frederick approached. “Ye grace is with yer presence. I was set to ride to ye after the healer gave me leave to so ye wouldnae have to make the journey.”
Frederick inclined his head in return. “MacAllum, this is where I should be and where I am.” His gaze moved briefly to the girl, then back to her father. “Ye have me gratitude for standing watch along the northern line. I am sorry that it has come to this.”
Fergus’s jaw tightened. “Aye. So am I.”
Frederick did not linger on it. There would be time enough for apologies later, if they were warranted.
“May I speak with her?” he asked.
Fergus hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Aye. If she can manage it.”
Frederick stepped forward, lowering himself slightly so that he did not tower over her. He kept his movements measured, his voice even when he spoke.
“Lass,” he said gently. “Can ye tell me yer name?”
The girl’s gaze lifted slowly, as though the effort of it cost her something. Her eyes were unfocused at first, drifting past him before settling with difficulty.
“Mairead,” she whispered.
“Aye, Mairead,” Frederick said. “I am Frederick. Ye are safe now.”
She blinked, as though the words took time to reach her.
“Safe,” she repeated, the word uncertain on her tongue.
“Aye,” he said again. “Nay harm will come to ye.”
Her hands twisted tighter in her lap, knuckles paling.
Frederick glanced briefly toward Lennox, who stood a short distance away, watchful but silent.
“Can ye tell me what ye remember?” Frederick asked, turning his attention back to the girl. “Anything at all will help.”
Mairead’s brow furrowed as she tried to focus. Her gaze dropped to her hands, as though the answer might be found there.
“I was… I was walking,” she said slowly. “Near the edge of the trees. I should nae have been alone, but I…” She faltered, her breath catching.
“It is all right,” Frederick said. “Take yer time.”
She nodded faintly, though the motion was unsteady.
“There was someone,” she continued. “Or… more than one, I think. I heard…” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “Voices. I cannae remember what they said.”
Frederick leaned slightly closer, his voice remaining calm. “Did ye see them?”
“I…” Her eyes squeezed shut. “I tried. I think I did. There was… a cloak. Dark. And…” She shook her head sharply, as though the memory slipped away the moment she reached for it.
“It is all right,” Frederick said again, though more firmly this time. “Daenae force it.”
Mairead’s breath came quicker now, uneven. “They caught me,” she said suddenly, the words tumbling out. “I tried to run, but they… they were stronger.” Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard. “They held me. Covered me mouth.”
Fergus shifted beside them, his hands clenching at his sides, though he did not interrupt.
Frederick kept his focus on the girl. “Did they speak to ye?”
“Aye… I think so,” she said, her voice trembling. “But it was… strange. Like they were far away. Or…” She frowned, struggling. “Like I was far away.”
Frederick’s gaze sharpened slightly. “A draught,” he murmured.
Mairead nodded weakly. “They made me drink something. Bitter.” Her hand lifted briefly, as though recalling the motion, then dropped again. “After that… everything…” She shook her head. “It is all… fog.”
Her breathing grew more uneven, her hands beginning to tremble in earnest.
Frederick slowed his questions, adjusting at once. “Do ye remember where they took ye?”
Mairead’s lips parted, but no words came. Her eyes darted, unfocused, as though chasing something just out of reach.
“There was… stone,” she said at last. “And… damp. It smelled…” She grimaced. “Wrong.”
“Underground?” Lennox asked quietly from where he stood.
Mairead flinched at the sound of his voice, her gaze snapping toward him before returning to Frederick with visible effort.
“I… I daenae ken,” she whispered. “It was dark. I could nae see.” Her breath hitched again, and then, without warning, the tension broke. “I cannae remember!” she cried, her voice rising sharply. “I am trying, but I cannae—”
Her words dissolved into sobs, her body folding inward as the strain of it overcame her.
Fergus stepped forward at once, dropping to one knee beside her. “Easy, lass. Easy now,” he murmured, his voice thick with worry.
Frederick rose slowly, stepping back to give them space.
“Enough,” he said quietly. “She has given what she can for now.”
Lennox moved closer, his voice low. “What do ye make of it?”
Frederick watched as Fergus gathered his daughter closer, the man’s large hand awkward but gentle against her shoulder.
“A draught to dull the mind,” Frederick said. “Multiple captors. Organized enough to move without drawing notice.” His jaw tightened slightly. “And bold enough to take from within our borders.”
Lennox’s expression darkened. “Aye.”
Mairead’s cries had not yet settled when the door to the cottage opened again, the sound sharp enough to draw every gaze in the room.
Erin stepped inside without hesitation, her presence filling the space in a way that required no announcement. Her eyes moved quickly over the scene, taking in the girl folded in on herself, Fergus bent beside her, and the gathered men who had lingered too long.
“That is enough,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. “Ye have pressed her past what she can give.”
Fergus began to speak, but Erin lifted a hand, silencing him with ease.
“I will see to her now,” she continued. “Out. All of ye.”
There was no argument in her tone. No room for one.
Frederick inclined his head at once and stepped back, giving way without protest. Lennox followed, and Fergus, after one last look at his daughter, rose slowly and allowed himself to be guided toward the door.
Mairead’s sobs softened slightly as Erin knelt beside her, her voice dropping into something quieter, more soothing, though the words themselves did not carry beyond the threshold.
Frederick did not linger.
He stepped out into the cooler air beyond the room, drawing in a steady breath as the door closed behind them. The sounds within dulled at once, replaced by the low murmur of the keep beyond.
Fergus stood just outside, his hands restless at his sides, as though he did not know where to place them now that he had nothing left to hold.
“Was she delivered to the perimeter guards?” he asked her father carefully.
“Me laird,” he said, his voice rough. “She… she walked.”
Frederick turned to him, his expression sharpening. “From where?”
Fergus shook his head, frustration evident in the movement. “She doesnae ken it clearly. But the men that brought her… they didnae carry her. They made her walk. Guided her, like.” He swallowed hard. “She says they kept close enough that she could feel them, even when she couldnae see them proper.”
Lennox frowned slightly. “Led her back into our lands.”
“Aye,” Fergus said. “Dropped her near the tree line, nae far from the path. She stumbled the rest of the way herself.”
Frederick’s gaze darkened. “Bold.”