Chapter Twenty-Three
Brianna awoke with a raging headache. Her tired body shivered against the cold pressing into her.
Her hand throbbed from where she had sliced it open.
Her arms were pulled behind her in an awkward, uncomfortable position.
Something rough and sharp scraped against her wrists.
Somewhere in the distance, she heard muffled chatter.
Her mind tried to decipher where she was and what was happening to her.
She finally managed to peel her eyes open.
Her head throbbed with a righteous pain that slammed into her as soon as she opened her eyes. She was tied to a chair in the great hall. Confusion settled in as her brows drew together and she tried to understand what she was seeing.
The remnants of battle lingered—splintered wood, shattered stone, the acrid sting of burning debris.
Above her, a gaping hole in the roof yawned open to the night sky, moonlight spilling through in eerie contrast to the destruction below.
The cool night air fluttered through the hole, chilling her to her bones.
Seeing the destruction sent a pang of sorrow through her. Their once lovely castle was now in ruins.
The destruction that was wholly her fault.
She clenched her hands into fists. Sticky, damp blood was still in her cut palm. The keystone, of course, was gone. She realized with some horror she was stuck inside the great hall, tied to a chair, and surrounded by the enemy.
The man she assumed was Rory MacDonald moved to stand in front of her, his thick forearms crossed over his chest as he towered over her and peered down at her with sharp, assessing, terrifying eyes.
He no longer wielded the glowing great axe.
His face was a map of wrinkles that had seen hard days and harder living.
He wore the tartan of his clan. His well-worn boots were covered in mud and blood.
His claymore rested in the scabbard on his hip.
Next to him, Bruce, his wicked blue eyes staring at her with a look she didn’t like one bit. His hand was clenched into a fist at his side. They must still suspect she had the stone. Why else would they tie her to the chair?
“Well, lass, welcome back to the land of the living,” the older man said. He smirked, as though he were happy to see she still breathed.
Or maybe he was angry she still breathed. Either way, it wasn’t a good sign for her.
“Where is the stone?” Rory asked.
Now it was time to do her best actress routine. “Safe with me. Where else?” Her tone was haughty and full of annoyance.
“Tell us how to use the magic in the stone,” Bruce demanded, his tone sharp and cold.
Good. They bought her routine. Now, to keep them guessing.
“Och, Bruce, give the lass a bit to come to her senses before ye go demanding such a thing.”
Bruce MacDonald. Chloe’s one-time boyfriend. She understood why Chloe was attracted to him. He was handsome, for sure, but there was something terrible glittering in his eyes.
The older man continued to stare at her, so she stared right back. “Are you Rory MacDonald?”
“Aye.” A smarmy grin tugged up the corners of his mouth. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet ye.”
She ignored what sounded to her like a flirtation. “Where are the others?”
She didn’t have to look around to know her sisters, Jamie, and his brothers were not with her in the great hall.
“Safe,” Rory said.
“Where?” she demanded. She punctuated the word with as much venom as possible.
He lifted a tawny brow as he continued to peer at her. “In the dungeons. I’m sure Callum MacLeod will no’ be fond of your handiwork here.” He motioned toward the ceiling, the splintered door, the scattered charred debris.
She tried not to glance upward, but it was hard to resist. She had done this? The keystone must be more powerful than she’d realized. If she had blown a hole in the roof, what would it do when she tried to shift the timeline?
Rory said, then, “If you cannae give me what I need, then I will choose one of yer sisters.”
And do away with her. That part was unspoken but understood.
Like her death was nothing more than an eventuality.
A fierce sense of protection pounded through her.
That didn’t bother her as much as the thought of this vile creature putting his hands on Evie or Chloe.
She would sooner die than see that happen.
Bruce moved a step closer to her, looking her over with a critical eye.
“I can see the family resemblance between ye and yer sisters.” He took her chin in his hand, turning her face one way, then another, as if examining her.
She jerked her chin out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me.”
Rory chuckled, a sound deep and rumbling in his chest. “She has a fire in her belly.”
“She needs to tell us how to use the magic,” Bruce said, his lethal gaze never leaving her face.
She wanted to punch him, if only to get him to stop staring at her. Behind her back, she twisted her hands in the ropes, trying to free herself. She did nothing but shred the delicate skin around her wrists, dampening the ropes with her own sweat and blood.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
“If ye dinnae ken, then perhaps one of yer sisters will.” Rory snapped his fingers to get the attention of one of his men. “Fetch me one of the other lasses. It doesna matter which.”
The man nodded and started to hurry off.
“Wait.” The word came out on a breath.
The man halted, gave a questioning glance to his laird, who motioned for him to remain where he was. Her heart beat a wicked tattoo in her chest. She inhaled a deep breath as she gathered her courage.
“Do ye have something to share with us, then, lass?” he asked.
“They don’t know how to use it,” she said, lying to save her sisters from this monster. “I’m the only one who knows how.”
Her bluff would likely get her killed, but if she could keep them busy for a while, then maybe Jamie and the others could find a way out of the dungeon.
It was a long shot, she knew but he was, after all, resourceful and in his own castle’s dungeon.
With the help of his brothers, there was hope yet.
She thought of the tapestry. The one of her standing on the craggy hill in the white dress and she wondered if that was a premonition.
She wondered if that was part of the puzzle.
The missing piece that would allow her to shift the timeline.
Maybe she had to be standing on that craggy hill, wearing that white gown, holding the keystone.
She would have to find a way to get it back from Jamie. At least, for now, it was safe with him.
“Do ye care to share with us how to use it?” Rory asked.
She bit the inside of her lip, trying to work out a plan while she tried to pull her wrists free. She needed more time. She needed a way out.
“The keystone drained my energy when we put it back together.” That, at least, was the truth. “I will need some time to regain my strength before I can use it again.”
“How do ye use it?” he demanded, his patience wearing thin. She saw the glittering annoyance swimming in his eyes.
“Only my blood will make it work.” She hated telling him that.
His expression shifted as he realized he had to keep her alive and leave her sisters out of it. There was a long bit of silence as he continued to scrutinize her.
“At dawn, ye will use the stone again. Ye best have yer strength back by then, lass.”
*
Evie’s whimper in the dank cell was the only sound. She tried to keep quiet, but it was difficult when she woke up to find she was a prisoner in her own home. Chloe had yet to come to, which left her to her own dismal, terrified thoughts.
What was happening to Brianna if she wasn’t in the same cell? Where were the men? Were they locked up, too?
“Eve?” Chloe’s tentative voice reached out to her.
Chloe emitted a faint moan. She stopped pacing long enough to check on her. Her sister pushed to a sitting position, her brows drawn together and her face creased with pain. She kneeled next to her.
“Are you all right?” Evie asked.
“My head is killing me. What happened?”
“There was a flash of light and then nothing,” Evie said.
She finally opened her eyes and gazed around the dark cell, confusion etched on her face. “Where are we, Eve?”
“I’d guess the dungeons. Chlo, they have Brianna.”
“They?” She jerked to a straight sitting position as she glanced around. “MacDonald?”
“I can only guess. She’s not here.”
“Where are Malcolm and—”
“Locked up, too, I’d guess.”
When Chloe struggled to stand, Evie grasped her by her arm and helped her to her feet. She peered out through the cell door into the shadowy hallway, worry on her face. The same worry Evie, herself, felt.
“If they have Brianna, then that means they have the stone, too,” Chloe said.
Evie nodded. “I have no doubt you’re right about that.”
“What are we going to do? How are we going to get out of here?”
When they were imprisoned in the MacDonald stronghold, Chloe had used her piece of the keystone and their combined blood magic to knock a hole in the back wall of the cell to get them out. Evie doubted there were secret passageways behind these MacLeod dungeons.
“I don’t know,” Evie said.
Her only glimmer of hope was that Roslyn had somehow managed to stay hidden and out of MacDonald hands. If she did, and she was brave enough, maybe she would find a way to the dungeons to let them out.
Beyond that, she had no idea what their plan should be. Once they were out, how would they rescue Brianna and get the keystone back?
“We’ll find a way to get it back,” Chloe said, sounding more sure than Evie felt.
She nodded, trying to remain positive.
But the situation seemed hopeless.
She turned back to the door and stared at it, as though doing so would present the answer.
“Now that they have the whole keystone, they can try to use it against us,” Chloe said.
“Our blood is what makes it work.” At least, she hoped that was the case. “They have to keep us alive if they want to use it.”