Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
Isla and Gavin were standing beneath a canopy of trees. There was a gentle breeze, and a bird flitted above, disturbing the leaves. Isla’s lips were still warm from a deep kiss.
“I dinnae ken if I can leave ye.”
“Ye must, this time. I need tae be alone from here. Ye hae got me this far. I will nae be in danger. Da will nae kill me.”
“He can dae worse things than kill ye,” Gavin growled.
Isla squeezed his hand and offered a reassuring smile. “Ye are needed elsewhere. Rally Dunrath Keep. This is nae just about us. It’s about the Highlands.”
“Ye are wrong.” He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers. “This is about ye. It hae always been about ye. I would hae died a long time ago if it weren’t for ye Isla. Ye saved me once. Ye saved me a thousand times.”
She kissed him asnd it would have been the easiest thing in the world to stay in his arms, but duty called.
“We must end this. We must stop my father before he burns the entire Highlands.”
“And what comes after that?” he asked, gazing deep into her eyes.
A smile adorned her face. “We can dae whatever we like. Dae ye hae any ideas?”
“I dinnae care what we dae, as long as we dae it taegether.”
He pinched her chin and guided her head up. He kissed her again and they both drew strength from it. Isla felt the frisson of tension sweeping through her and she was left shuddering. It took great effort to pull herself away. She let go of Gavin’s hand.
“I will see ye again soon, my love,” she said.
Gavin bowed his head. He was still troubled. She could see the conflict in his eyes. In truth, she wasn’t sure how much she could trust her father to keep her alive. It was all based on the assumption that he wanted an audience for his victory, for what was triumph if there was nobody to gloat to?
She turned and drew the hood over her head, while Gavin moved in the opposite direction. They parted for what she hoped was one final time, and she smiled as she thought about their reunion and how sweet that would be.
She moved through the forest, slaloming through trees, remembering the landmarks that had been shared by the prisoner in Stormhaven.
Left at the crooked tree. Straight on past the babbling brook.
Then she saw the hints of smoke in the air.
It wasn’t long before the sounds of chatter reached her ears, as well as the sounds of horses.
Apprehension clung to the base of her throat.
Isla approached the camp and tore off her hood.
“I believe ye hae been looking for me?” she declared.
There was a moment of indecision among the men as they stared at her in disbelief, but when the first moved, they all did. They swarmed around her and pulled her arms back, dragging her to her father.
He had his own tent, of course. He looked darker than before, sharper, as though all of his smooth edges had been grinded away. Perhaps that was how he had always looked and she was seeing him truthfully for the first time in his life.
A smile crept upon his face, but like the rest of him it was dark. All those times when she believed he had been feeling joy… they must have been a lie.
“Ah, my daughter. I wondered how long it would be before ye returned,” he said, as if he had known this would happen all along.
When Isla stared at him she looked at his hands, thinking about the scene that Gavin described. Those hands had held the dagger that took Iain’s life. Anger rent her soul and her hands started to shake.
But she couldn’t let emotion get the best of her now.
Instead, she kept a cool expression and tilted her head to the side.
“I hae come tae ye with one last offer for peace. And I come nae as yer daughter, for I hae nae inclination tae be that any longer, but rather as Lady Anderson. I wish tae speak tae the clan and douse the flames of their anger. There can be peace. We can stop this war.”
Laird Sinclair threw his head back and laughed.
“Why would I be interested in peace? Peace is compromise. Peace is surrender. When this is over I will hae everything,” he rasped, clutching his fist in the air.
Isla recoiled in horror at the sight of so much terror in his eyes. Her features hardened and she pressed her lips together.
“In that case I shall march out there and tell them what ye did. Dae ye think they will raise their swords for ye when they learn that ye are the one who slew their Laird?”
Laird Sinclair arched an eyebrow and seemed unthreatened. He stepped towards her and a chill crept down Isla’s spine. His voice was low.
“And dae ye think they will believe the word of a harlot who ran away with the enemy? With the man they believed killed Iain?”
“They will believe me because it’s the truth.”
Laird Sinclair laughed. It tapered off to a cruel sound and he stared at Isla with derision.
“I dinnae raise ye tae be sae naive. They will believe what I tell them tae believe because they trust me. I hae proven myself time and time again, while ye are just a lass. Just a widow. Ye hae nae power here and the fact that ye even think ye can bargain with me shows how desperate ye are.”
“This is nae an act of desperation. It’s an act of strength.” Isla jutted out her chin. “We are moving against ye. Ye might think ye ken everything, but ye dinnae. We ken about yer spies. And Ma is far beyond yer reach.”
“Naething is beyond my reach,” he thundered.
Spittle flew from his mouth. She had never seen him like this before. Usually he was so controlled, but she had no idea if this was a good sign or not.
“I will hae yer mother again. I will hae all of the Highlands. I hae already conceived of everything ye could plan against me, and in every outcome I emerge victorious. There is nae path where ye all live. I hae been thinking about this since I was yer age, and now my plans will finally bear fruit. This is my world, and I merely allow ye tae live in it.”
“Ye are wrong. Ye speak as if ye are a god,” she said, intending the words as an insult, but instead Laird Sinclair squared his shoulders and seemed imbued with pride. “We will stop ye.”
He laughed again. The sound was grating.
“Such easy words tae say. Dae ye ken how many people hae tried tae stop me before? I hae seen sae many of them fall at my feet and there will be more. They are living on borrowed time. Kai, Coll, Aidan, and that traitor… The very fact that ye are here of yer own volition tells me that I hae already won. Ye come tae me with talk of peace,” he scoffed.
“Ye hae made yerself my prisoner again. All I need dae is send a message tae Kai. I’m sure he will be willing tae trade the broken lion for his sister, and then I can begin giving the Anderson Clan what they want. Blood.”
“That’s nae what they want. They are good people. Ye hae twisted them,” Isla gasped.
Laird Sinclair waved a dismissive hand in the air. “They are whatever I want them tae be.”
He called guards to come and take her. They handled her roughly and spat insults at her, believing that she had betrayed Iain for Gavin.
A rider was sent with a message not long after.
In time, Isla rode out with Laird Sinclair and numerous guards to a small clearing.
Sinclair kept some guards around him while sending others to scout ahead, ordered to meet Kai before father and son were reunited for the exchange.
Laird Sinclair stood arrogantly, hands clasped behind his back, staring at the horizon. Isla glared at him with hatred in her heart. There was a time when she felt guilty for wanting her father dead, but not anymore.
He was not her father, he was a monster. And she wanted him punished.
Suddenly the air was disturbed by groans and a riderless horse. Sinclair drew his sword and narrowed his gaze, waiting for the enemy to appear.
“If yer brother wants a fight then he hae made a mistake.”
It didn’t take long for soldiers to arrive in the clearing, although they were not the onrushing enemy striding in to reclaiming a sister…
Bedraggled, wounded foxes limped with slumped shoulders, their clothes stained with blood.
Laird Sinclair’s eyes widened and he sputtered his disapproval. He swiped his sword at an invisible enemy before turning to Isla.
“This is the answer he gives? Ye insult me. Ye think ye can hurt me like this? Aye… ye want blood. I will bring blood.”
Before Isla could react, Laird Sinclair slashed his sword.
It was a flick of a movement, and she felt a sting.
When she touched her cheek she brought her fingers back and they were covered in blood.
A wound had opened up and warmth trickled down her cheek, reaching the corner of her lip. A metallic taste swam over her tongue.
Then, he was on her, grabbing her chin in his firm grip, glaring at her with eyes so wide she could see the rivers of blood that ran across the whites of them. His pupils were small and his breath was hot. As he squeezed, the pain grew more intense and more blood was squeezed out.
“Ye hae made a grave mistake if ye think ye can outsmart me, lass. It seems as though I hae another lesson tae teach ye, and this will be yer last one. Ye hae been such a disappointment tae me, Isla. And Kai…” A shadow fell across his face. “I shall make him pay for his insolence. Come.”
He grabbed her arm and dragged her back, pulling so hard she thought it was going to be wrenched from its socket. She let out a whimper of pain as they made their way back to the Anderson camp.
The soldiers who remained there looked on with intrigue as Sinclair stormed in the camp. He flung Isla down and she hit the ground, her hands scrambling through the dirt. The wounded soldiers were helped and healers rushed around them.
“This is what the enemy does. They promise a peaceful trade and instead send us a message of blood. This is what we are fighting against. They hae wounded our men and if we dinnae fight back this will only be the beginning.”
He flailed his arm in the air and his eyes were wild. He paced around, as though he could not contain his rage.
“I am sae ashamed of my children. They are a scourge on the Highlands and I must rectify my mistake. Taegether we shall undae their misery and avenge Iain. We will bring peace tae the Highlands once and for all, and we shall dae sae in his name!”
There was a great cheer that Isla found dispiriting for they had all fallen for his lies. The warriors shook their fists and whooped, offering their support to him freely.
Isla’s tears stung almost as painfully as her blood. She had to yell to make herself heard over the commotion, and her voice trembled with emotion.
“It’s all lies! Dinnae believe him! He’s the one who killed Iain!” she desperately claimed.
Laird Sinclair thrust his hand towards Isla.
“Look at what my own daughter does. She accuses me of murder because she cannae take responsibility for her own crimes. She is the one who betrayed Laird Anderson. She was unworthy of his love, but all of ye are worthy. We will take the Highlands. For Iain!”
“For Iain!” the cry was echoed by the crowd.
Isla turned and gazed with horror as she heard Iain’s name being twisted this way, being used as a rallying cry for war when that was the last thing he wanted.
He must have been turning in his grave. Guilt was so intense that she almost choked on it.
She hadn’t been able to serve him as a wife, and now she could not do right by him in death either.
His memory was being tarnished and everything he stood for was being torn down by her father.
“In two days we march on Dunrath Keep. Let us slay the lions, and the Highlands shall tremble!” Laird Sinclair cried.
Everyone was cheering as though this was the most important thing they would ever do.
Isla turned to her father, who looked at her, his eyes shining with smugness. He was acting as though he had already won and in that moment Isla believed he had, because if there was to be fighting then so many would die.
Everything hung in the balance, and she wasn’t sure if she would be able to see Gavin or anyone else again. She might well have to sit under the shroud of her father’s darkness.