CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #2
Maeve gave her instructions to follow along the wall markings to find her way out of the castle, knowing that they'd come too far in the dark for everyone to remember the exact path back through the labyrinth.
Cailean knew some of his men would have memorized it well, but he was proud of her for giving the clarification.
Now he looked around at the gathered rebels.
He expected to see disapproval there or even dissent, but instead, he saw admiration and even some smiles.
He caught Fergus's eye, and Fergus gave him a tiny nod.
Sadie stopped just before she could disappear down the corridor.
"I… if ye're lookin' for Kyle, I ken where ye can find him," she told them.
"He's in Malcolm's old chambers. He's already waitin' for ye tae be brought there as prisoners.
There's more and more men fillin' the way from here tae there. "
Maeve looked victorious at the news. "Luckily," she said, "I ken a way in."
Often, during their marriage, Malcolm would summon Maeve to his bedchambers.
She soon realized that it was only for appearances' sake, and he would send her out again through a little side door that led into a servant's passage to the kitchens soon after.
She supposed it was so that nobody would see her leave.
That little side door now proved to be their salvation.
All the soldiers in the castle were dedicated to guarding the way to the chieftain's chambers, but nobody was watching the kitchens.
After all, what did the mighty Kyle Darach care for servants?
And so it was a simple enough job for Maeve to lead the rebels, including the men who had joined them, through the corridors she'd grown to know so well without alerting a soul.
They reached the kitchens without incident, and when they entered, the kitchen staff paled.
"Ye're nae supposed tae be here," the head cook said.
Maeve could feel the rebels tensing behind her, but she spoke calmly. "Let us pass," she said softly. "And maybe next time I see ye, we'll all be free."
The tension rose for a long moment, and then something softened in the cook's eyes.
One by one, the servants stood back, clearing a path through to the door which Maeve had been leading them toward.
The cook spoke again. "He kens ye're comin', lass.
Ye're nae gonnae have so much of an element of surprise as ye think. "
"Our hands are free and our hearts are strong," Maeve replied. She moved forward and gently touched the cook's shoulder. "Thank ye for this. Ye're bein' very brave."
"He'll kill us if ye lose, as punishment for helpin' ye," the cook replied simply. She met Maeve's gaze with a deep, serious look. "So dinnae lose, ye hear me?"
Maeve nodded. "We willnae," she promised, feeling the weight of it all on her shoulders.
The whole time, Cailean had remained quiet, and she appreciated him for recognizing that this part had to be hers. These servants knew her, and they knew what her return meant. The next part, though, would be his, and she reached back and took his hand briefly before they opened the door.
"I'm here with ye," she promised him quietly. "Every step of the way."
He squeezed her hand in response, then said, "This willnae be easy for either of us. But together, we're strong enough for anythin'."
Maeve nodded, then looked back at the men who were still with them, all waiting on Cailean's — and her — orders. She gave them a signal and then, with a deep breath, moved forward and opened the door.
Malcolm's old chambers, now Kyle's, were some of the grandest rooms in the castle.
It was a suite of five or six joined rooms, including a personal audience room where Malcolm had often received guests, planned strategies, and even conducted smaller meetings with his allies and enemies alike.
In Maeve's time here it had served as a war room, a room for diplomacy, and a room where orders were signed and deals were made.
Now, it served as Maeve's worst nightmare.
They entered from the side, causing an uproar of surprise.
Several Darach men rushed forward, though they hesitated as Cailean's men drew their swords, some still shimmering with blood from the battle down below.
But Maeve couldn't pay attention to that.
Her eyes were fixed on the center of the room, where Kyle Darach stood, his arm around a slim young woman with large green eyes and cornsilk hair.
Those eyes widened in surprise as the young woman saw Maeve and gasped.
"Maeve!" she exclaimed, then covered her mouth with her hands.
It was too late to cover up the blunder. Kyle Darach's eyes narrowed as he looked from the attacking men to his young wife and then found Maeve amongst the invaders. A slow smile crept onto his face, and in a deep, commanding voice, he declared, "Stop!"
The room seemed to freeze, Darach men and rebels alike lowering their swords as the chieftain took a few steps forward.
"I'm here, Bre," Maeve told her over the silence. "We'll get ye out of this."
"Has me wife lost her mind, or could it truly be that her traitor sister stands before me now?" Kyle asked, sounding almost delighted at the prospect. "It seems preposterous that ye'd return here, Maeve O'Sullivan, and yet here ye stand."
Maeve felt Cailean tense as Kyle addressed her, but she put a hand on his arm, a quiet single nae yet.
"Ye come with blood on yer face and a sword in yer hand.
Did killin' our previous chieftain nae satisfy ye?
Have ye come tae slaughter me as well?" Kyle's eyes narrowed.
"I shouldae killed ye when ye were in the dungeons rather than listenin' tae me idiot son.
Instead, ye made him play the hero, and now I have tae make an example of him as well. "
"Eoin is free," Maeve said quietly. "All yer prisoners are free. And soon me sister will be as well."
"Me wife, ye mean," Kyle corrected, obviously enjoying the taunt. Maeve felt her blood boiling, but tried to hold herself back. Nae yet. His eyes flicked to her hand on Cailean's. "It seems ye've nae even been loyal tae me traitor son. Ye've taken a lover amongst the rebels, is it? Who is—"
They all saw it when something changed in Kyle's expression, and Maeve knew it for what it was — recognition.
"Ye're the McNair lad," Kyle exclaimed in disbelief. "Ye look just like yer father. That, or ye're a ghost of the old fool, back tae haunt us."
Cailean stepped forward. "Me father was nae fool," he said in a voice as cold as morning frost. "But ye are right that I'm his son. Here tae take back this castle in me father's name. In me own name."
Kyle, obviously still believing he had the upper hand, burst out into a laugh. "This is wonderful!" he announced. "Men, look! The lost prince has returned tae offer his head as a gift tae our king."
"If ye want me head, come take it yerself, Darach," Cailean demanded. He stepped forward to the front of the group. "Let the lass go. Duel me. Let's make this between ye and me. Naebody else needs tae die."
"Oh, I think they do," Kyle told him with good humor. "Yer rebels here have killed me men. Ye're like vermin, and ye all need tae be stamped out. But first, ye."
"Take me challenge. Spare yer men and mine," Cailean urged him again. "Me life against yers. Let's end this."
"End it?" Kyle asked. He shook his head. "Lad, it ended twenty years ago." He turned to his men. "Kill him. Kill them all."
"No!" Breana shrieked.
The rebels raised their swords in a defensive pose, Maeve and Cailean among them, but while a few of the Darach men surged forward, many hung back, uncertainty written across their faces, whispers amongst them reaching Maeve's ears.
McNair?
Could it be?
The True king?!
The clang of swords sounded, but before the fight could begin in earnest, a loud horn sounded, echoing through the castle.
"What?" Kyle rasped, alarm on his face for the first time. "What is this?"
"The gates are open, Kyle," Maeve told him. "The rebel army is comin'. It's over."
Panic flooded through the room as the men seemed to understand exactly what Maeve meant; the castle was under a full-scale attack, not, as they had believed, a small rebel infiltration.
Cailean raised his sword and moved forward, ready to deal with Kyle once and for all, but staggered and stopped as Kyle let out an inhumane roar and grabbed Breana even tighter.
"Let me go!" Breana shrieked.
Maeve rushed forward, but she, too, stopped, as Kyle raised his weapon to Breana's throat.
Kyle pushed her in front of him, blocking his body. As the men around fought, Kyle looked back at Maeve and Cailean. "Kill me and she goes as well," he hissed.
As he dragged her backward, Breana's eyes were filled with desperate, pleading horror, and Maeve's body pulsed with fear and adrenaline.
Any attack on Kyle now would be an attack on Breana too.
Even if he didn't manage to hurt her in retaliation, approaching with a sword could risk cutting Breana instead.
Except… except if one was very careful, with a sword that was precise enough to avoid the human shield.
Her heart rattling in her chest, Maeve knew she had no more time to think. She withdrew her needle-like sword and rushed forward, using all of the agility and wit that Senan and Cailean had trained her for, and made a single, precise thrust with her weapon.
Kyle howled, his hand going loose and his sword dropping to the ground as Maeve's attack connected and wounded him in the side of his ribcage. Breana took advantage of the moment and wrenched herself free, running to the side of the room to safety.
The fighting stopped, and as one of the men turned to face the downed chieftain, Cailean walked slowly toward him, weapon in hand.
"Ye can still surrender, Darach," he told him quietly. "Surrender, and live yer life as a prisoner."
Kyle, now on his knees, clutching at his side, spat on the ground at Cailean's feet. "Ye'll all burn," he snarled. "Ye'll all burn! Just like the McNairs did!"
With a grim look in his eyes, Cailean swung his sword one final time. Kyle's body fell to the floor, lifeless.
It was over.
Though the noise of the attacking force could still be heard, Maeve could feel the silence that followed the execution. Then Cailean turned back to the Darach men and spoke in a firm, clear, authoritative tone — in the voice of a king.
"Lay down yer swords. Join us, or flee. If ye nae longer fight, nae more blood needs to be shed today," he declared. "But if ye do choose tae fight, ken this: we will win."
A heartbeat passed. Two.
Then a man stepped forward whom Maeve vaguely recognized as another member of the Darach line — Kyle's nephew, or cousin, or something like that.
By his clothing and bearing, it was clear that with Kyle's death, he now had the authority over the soldiers in this room and perhaps through the entire castle.
The man walked right up to Cailean, then dropped to his knees, offering his sword before him. "Me king," he said, "The castle is yers."