CHAPTER SIXTEEN #2
To this day, Maeve didn't know what Breana had said or done, what she'd cajoled or bargained or threatened, but her father had never physically raised a hand to her again.
He'd hurt her in other ways, and he'd ignored her, but the beatings had stopped after that moment.
Somehow, Breana had faced down the great Laird O'Sullivan and won on her sister's behalf.
It had been one of the reasons that Maeve had been able to accept her dreadful marital fate. But now… now it seemed she'd failed, and Breana had been married off anyway to an even worse man than Maeve had been sold to herself. Maeve had failed.
"No," she said quietly into the night air.
She remembered Cailean's words about innocents lost. If it was true, if what those men had taunted was what was really happening, did it mean her own sister, her only real family, was now one of them?
Maeve couldn't even begin to consider it or what it would mean.
Cailean's footsteps sounded across the hard ground, and a moment later he returned to the horses. "It's done," he told her. "Come. Let's get back tae camp."
Maeve opened her mouth to tell him about her sister, but closed it again.
Now wasn't the time to be asking for favors.
After all, this return to her new home might be the last time she was ever there again.
If they voted against her, which they might, her only hope was that they did not keep her as a prisoner. She would beg them for exile instead.
If they cast her out, she'd be alone again, lost and scared and without anything, and the idea terrified her. But at least she'd be free. And Breana would be waiting.
Cailean didn't try to speak to Maeve for the rest of the journey back to the camp.
He wasn't sure what he could bring himself to say to her even if he did.
The story of what she'd been through had moved him more than he knew what to do with, and the way they'd fought together had stirred something in his heart that had been asleep for so long that he'd thought it was gone forever.
But she'd still lied to them. She was still the daughter of one sworn enemy and the widow of another.
Cailean believed her that she hadn't killed Malcolm Darach, but that did not mean that she was an innocent.
In fact, it might even mean that she was more guilty; if she didn't kill Malcolm, then couldn't she have loyalty to him? He was her husband, after all.
Cailean shook his head. He didn't believe that. He believed her, but he couldn't get over the sting of the betrayal just yet.
"There ye are, ye big pillock!" Darren's voice called out over the crowd that swarmed to meet them. "We were beginnin' tae think somethin' had happened tae ye. There were rumors of Darachs in the woods."
Cailean slipped off his horse and moved to Darren's side, weaving through the other rebels who had swarmed close to greet them.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several people gathering around Maeve to make sure she was alright — though of course, they would be calling her Mary.
That made the sting feel fresh again. She'd lied to all of them, and worst of all, he could understand why.
It was confusing to see that his fellow rebels had clearly come to care for her and maybe even love her like family.
How would they feel when they knew she'd lied to all of them?
"What's wrong?" Darren asked immediately when he spotted Cailean's expression. Then he swore. "That's blood on ye. Bastards. Ye got caught up with them, aye?"
Cailean nodded. "They're all dead. The villagers are dealin' with the bodies, but we should send a few men tae help."
Darren gave his assent and called a few words out to some men nearby. After that, he turned back to Cailean and looked him up and down. "Are ye hurt? Should I fetch a healer?" He glanced over Cailean's shoulder. "What about Mary?"
His stomach clenching, Cailean forced himself to remain calm as he replied. "We only got minor injuries. We'll see the healers after we've talked tae the council."
"She fought with ye?"
"Aye." Begrudgingly, he added, "And she fought well. I'll tell ye all about it later, but for now, I need tae speak with the elders. At once."
Darren frowned, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Are there more of them comin'? Did someone escape? What?"
"Please, me friend," Cailean asked, exhaustion suddenly weighing down on him. It was late, and he was physically, mentally, and emotionally spent. He just needed to get this over with before his entire system gave out. "Please just go get yer da and the others. It's important."
He thought for a moment that his friend would argue, but Darren nodded. "I will. I'll tell them tae gather in the war tent; ye can meet them there. And I'll get Patty tae come and have a look at Mary. Even if it's just minor wounds…"
"We'll both see the healers after," Cailean replied. "For now, Maeve will stay with me. She needs tae be there when I meet the elders."
Darren frowned and folded his arms. "All right," he said. "I'll go, and ye can explain later. Just… answer me one question for now. Just one."
Cailean's voice was hoarse, but he owed his worried friend at least that much, he supposed. "Fine. Ask."
Darren leaned close, his voice almost a whisper. "Who is Maeve?"
Maeve sat outside the war tent, her jumbled emotions winding and weaving through her skin.
Her body was exhausted, ready to collapse into a long sleep, but her mind was more alert than ever.
Here in the ambient noise of the camp, she could at last concentrate on the pain in her injured arm, and she relished in it, because at least it was a distraction from the confusion inside her ravaged heart.
Cailean was inside talking to the elders, and he'd told her to wait here.
Maeve hadn't argued, but as she waited, she saw many a familiar face walk by and stare at her with open, unguarded curiosity.
What were they thinking, she wondered? Were they filled with awe that she and Cailean had faced down a small attacking force and won?
Were they suspicious of her? She didn't know what Cailean had said to Darren, and she didn't know how much of it could possibly have spread in such a short amount of time.
It was late, but it seemed that the whole camp was awake, holding its breath as if in anticipation of what was to come next. Maeve wondered that too. Was this the end for her? It could easily be it; the last moments she'd have of this place that had become her home.
A familiar face wove through the crowd, and Maeve saw Ferda staring across the field at her.
She must have returned from the scouting mission early.
She held up a hand and waved to her friend, but Ferda did not wave back, just watched her.
From this distance, it was impossible to tell the expression on the scout's face.
Before Maeve could think about it more, the flap of the tent opened behind her, and there stood not Cailean, but Senan, staring down at her with a severe look in his eye.
"Mary," he greeted. "Or whoever ye are. Come in. I think we all need tae have a long talk."