Chapter 5
"Where are ye takin' me?"
Maia's voice was hoarse from crying, but steady now. She'd been silent for what felt like hours, her body rigid against the stranger's chest as they rode through the darkness. But the tears had finally stopped, leaving her hollow and exhausted and strangely numb.
Mollie was probably gone. Dead. Burned alive because Maia's uncle had done something to anger this man, and now her only friend in the world had paid the price.
The grief was a stone in her chest, heavy and cold, but she couldn't let it consume her. Not now. Not when she needed to understand what was happening, where she was going, what this man intended to do with her.
"Ye'll find out soon enough." His voice rumbled through his chest and into her back, deep and uncompromising.
Maia twisted slightly, trying to see his face in the darkness. "That's nae an answer."
"It's the only one ye're gettin', lass."
She bit back a sharp retort. Antagonizing her captor probably wasn't the wisest course of action, especially not when they were miles from anywhere, and she was wearing nothing but a thin shift. Still, the casual dismissal in his tone rankled.
They rode in silence for several more minutes, the horse's hooves eating up ground with mechanical efficiency. Maia could feel the shift in terrain beneath them; they'd left the packed roads near the castle and were now on rougher ground, picking their way through what felt like moorland.
The sky was beginning to lighten at the edges, the black fading to deep purple. Dawn wasn't far off.
"What's yer name?" she asked finally, when the silence became too oppressive to bear.
The man said nothing.
Maia waited, counting heartbeats. One. Two. Ten. Twenty. Still nothing.
Fine. If he wanted to be difficult, she could work around it.
"Me name is Maia," she said, as if he hadn't just ignored her question. "Maia Ferguson."
Another stretch of silence. Then: "Aye. I ken who ye are."
"I figured ye already kent that, since ye came specifically to steal me away.”
"Aye.”
"So ye do have a tongue in yer mouth. I was beginnin' to wonder whether ye’d sealed yer mouth shut."
She heard what sounded like a snort, though it was hard to tell over the sound of the horse's breathing.
"And ye still havenae told me yer name," Maia pressed. "Which seems rather unfair, considerin' ye ken mine and I'm currently yer hostage."
"Look."
The single word cut through her rambling, and Maia blinked. "What?"
"Look." He shifted behind her, one arm moving to point off to their left. "Deer."
Maia's head snapped in the direction he was indicating, and her breath caught.
There, perhaps fifty yards away, a small herd of red deer grazed in the pre-dawn light. Their coats looked almost bronze in the strange half-light, and as she watched, one of the stags raised its magnificent head, antlers silhouetted against the lightening sky.
"Oh," she breathed, all thoughts of names and questions fleeing her mind. "Oh, they're bonnie."
She'd seen deer before, of course. Years ago, when her parents were alive, and she was free to ride and hunt and explore. But that felt like another lifetime, like memories belonging to a different person entirely.
"Aye, they are bonnie." the man responded.
But Maia was already twisting in the saddle again, trying to keep the herd in sight as they rode past. "The stag, did ye see the size of his antlers? He must be ancient. And there are fawns! Three of them, look, can ye see them?"
"I see them."
"They're so wee. Do ye think they were born this spring? They look young still, nae fully grown. And the way they, oh!" She gasped as something else caught her eye. "Birds! What kind are those? The ones with the white breasts?"
"Thrushes."
"Are ye certain? I thought thrushes had more brown on them than white."
"They're thrushes." His voice had taken on a distinctly grumpy quality.
Maia ignored it. "And those trees, are those birches? The ones with the white bark? We have some near the castle but I could never see them properly from me window, the angle was all wrong, but these are close enough that I can actually…"
"Lass."
"…see the patterns in the bark, it's almost like they have eyes, have ye ever noticed that? The way the dark spots look like they're watchin' ye? And is that a stream up ahead? I can hear water, I think, or maybe it's just the wind."
"Lass."
The sharp edge in his voice finally penetrated her enthusiasm. Maia fell silent, her cheeks heating.
"Ye havenae stopped talkin' since ye noticed those bloody deer. Daenae make me regret showin' them to ye," he said, and she could hear the exhaustion in his tone now. "Do ye ever quiet down?"
"I—" Maia bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I dinnae mean to. It's just that I havenae been outside in so long, and everythin' is so bonnie, and I forgot how much there is to see."
She was doing it again. Rambling. She pressed her lips together firmly.
They rode in silence for another minute.
"How long?" His voice was quieter now, less sharp. "Ye said ye havenae been outside in a long time. How long?"
Maia's throat tightened. "Six years."
"Six. How the bloody hell does—" He cut himself off. She felt him shift behind her, his grip on the reins tightening. "What do ye mean, six years?"
"I mean I havenae left the castle in six years, and barely stepped out of me room either," she said simply.
"Nae since I was sixteen when me uncle locked me away.
" Her voice caught. "Said I was too much trouble, too much of a distraction.
So, he barred me window and posted guards at me door, and I've been there ever since. "
Another long silence. Then: "The bars on yer window."
"Aye."
"They werenae to keep people out."
"Nay." Maia swallowed hard. "They were to keep me in. I tried to tell ye that when ye took me. Tried to tell ye that me uncle wouldnae care. But ye dinnae believe me."
She felt him tense behind her, his whole body going rigid.
"So ye see," she continued, her voice taking on a manic edge she couldn't quite control, "this is the first time in a while I've seen the sky without iron bars between us. Since I've felt wind on me face properly and smelled heather and pine and grass and, oh look!"
A fox darted across the path ahead of them, its red coat vivid against the grey-green moorland. Maia leaned forward instinctively, watching it disappear into the undergrowth.
"Did ye see that?" She twisted to look up at him, forgetting for a moment that she was a captive.
"A fox! I've only ever seen them in books, and the illustrations never do them justice.
The way it moved, so quick and graceful, and the color!
The artist always made them too orange, but that one was more copper, almost dark copper. "
"Christ." The word was muttered under his breath, but Maia heard it anyway.
"What?"
"Nothin'." He urged the horse faster. "Just, keep talkin' if ye must. But try nae to lean so far forward. Ye're throwin' off me balance."
Maia settled back against his chest, a small smile tugging at her lips despite everything. Despite Mollie's death, despite being kidnapped, despite having no idea where she was going or what would happen to her.
She was outside.
She was outside, and the world was so much bigger and brighter and more alive than she'd remembered.
"There's another bird," she said, pointing. "With the long tail. What's that one called?"
A long-suffering sigh. "Magpie."
"One for sorrow," Maia murmured, remembering the old rhyme her mother used to recite. "Two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy. Do ye ken that one?"
"Aye."
"Me maither used to sing it. She said if ye saw a single magpie, ye had to tip yer hat to it and say 'good mornin', Mr. Magpie' or ye'd have bad luck all day."
"That's superstitious nonsense."
"Maybe." Maia watched the magpie take flight, its black and white wings flashing in the air. "But she believed it. And I was never sure if the bad luck came from nae greetin' the bird, or from believin' it would."
She felt him shift again behind her, though he said nothing.
The landscape was changing around them. The open moorland was giving way to rolling hills dotted with clusters of trees. In the distance, Maia could make out the dark line of a forest, and beyond that, mountains rising like ancient gods against the dawn sky.
"Is that where we're goin'?" she asked, gesturing toward the mountains. "Into the forest?"
"Past it."
"How far past it?"
"Far enough."
Maia huffed. "Ye're nae very forthcomin' with information, are ye?"
"Ye're nae very forthcomin' with silence."
Despite herself, despite everything, Maia felt a laugh bubble up in her chest. It came out as more of a hiccup, choked and strange, but it was still a laugh.
The man made an irritated sound. "What's funny?"
"Nothin'. Just—" She shook her head. "I shouldnae be laughin'. Me friend is dead, I've been kidnapped by a man who sets fire to buildings full of innocent people, and I have nay idea what's goin' to happen to me. But here I am, babblin' about birds and foxes like a mad woman."
"Are ye mad?" He sounded genuinely curious.
"I might be," Maia admitted. "Six years locked away from everythin'. It would drive anyone mad, wouldnae it?"
"I suppose."
They crested a hill, and suddenly the view opened up before them. The sun was just breaking over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold and pale blue. The light spilled across the landscape like liquid honey, illuminating everything it touched.
Maia's breath stopped in her throat.
"Bonnie," she whispered. "It's so bonnie."
The man said nothing, but she felt his gaze on the side of her face rather than on the sunrise.
"When I was a girl," Maia said softly, "me da used to wake me before dawn sometimes. We'd ride out to watch the sun come up, just the two of us. He said it was important to remember that every day was a gift, that each sunrise was a second chance."
"Sounds like a wise man."
"He was." Maia's eyes burned with tears she refused to let fall. "He died when I was fourteen. Him and me ma both. Fever took them within a week of each other."
"And that's when yer uncle took over."
"Aye. That's when Uncle Callen took over.
" She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the man's body behind her.
"At first, I thought things would stay the same.
But they dinnae. He had his own ideas about how things should be run.
" Her voice went quiet. "And I dinnae fit into those plans. "
They rode in silence for a while after that, but it was a different kind of silence. Less hostile. Almost comfortable.
"Oh!" Maia sat up straighter as something else caught her eye. "Is that a rabbit? The brown thing near that rock?"
An audible groan. "Aye, lass. It's a rabbit."
"It's so fat! Look at it, it's practically round. Do ye think it's pregnant? Or maybe it's just well-fed. Are there a lot of rabbits in these parts? I used to see them in the castle gardens sometimes, through me window, but they were always so far away."
"Maia."
It was the first time he'd used her name, and it stopped her mid-sentence.
"Aye?"
"If I answer one question, just one, will ye give me ten minutes of peace? Ten minutes without commentary on every bloody creature or plant we pass?"
Maia considered this. "Five minutes."
"Eight."
"Done." She twisted to look up at him, trying to make out his features in the growing light. "So? What's yer name?"
She heard him sigh, a long, weary sound. Then, finally: "Ewan. Me name is Ewan Byrne."
"Ewan," Maia repeated, testing the name on her tongue. "Ewan Byrne. And ye're the Laird of?"
"That's two questions, lass. Ye only paid for one."
"But."
"Eight minutes of silence. Startin' now."
Maia opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. A deal was a deal, after all.
But as she settled back against Ewan's chest, as the sun climbed higher and the world woke around them, she couldn't quite suppress the small smile that curved her lips.
She was outside. She was outside, and there were deer and foxes and magpies and rabbits, and the sky was endless and bonnie, and yes, she'd been kidnapped, and yes, Mollie was dead, and yes, everything was terrible and uncertain and frightening.
But God, oh God, she was outside.