Chapter 7 #2
The whole room seemed to hold its breath.
Then Murtagh laughed, long and loud and cold, no humor in it whatsoever. "Ye offer me some lad!" he declared. "Ye call him yer heir, yet ye already told me ye're betrothed. How long dae ye think till yer woman bears ye a boy and young Bruce's claim means nothin'?"
"There's nae guarantee of that," Cailean argued.
"And beyond that, he will still be the leader of the Bruce clan.
They have already reclaimed their homeland, and once we have won, they will be amongst the most powerful clans in Scotland.
Do ye not wish yer daughter tae have such a powerful husband? "
"I wish me daughter tae be queen!" Murtagh declared furiously. He balled his hands into fists. "I dinnae want yer leftovers, McNair. Ye will wed me Sorcha, or there will be nae alliance between us. This is yer final warnin'."
Cailean took a step back, his hand drifting to brush Maeve's arm as a gesture of solidarity and love, his friends at his side. "I have made me counter-offer. I have nothin' else tae give ye, Murtagh."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop all of a sudden, icy cold and dangerous. Murtagh spoke again in a voice that was eerily calm now, devoid of the anger and heat from moments before, and infinitely more deadly.
"Ye're makin' a mistake, lad," he said coldly.
"Without me support, without the support of me allies, yer ambitions are little more than the dreams of a foolish boy who should have died long ago.
Ye should have burned when yer brothers and sisters did.
Perhaps then ye wouldnae be here, bringin' shame on yer name. "
Anger flushed through Cailean's face. "I will take me leave," he said stiffly. "I see we have nothin' more tae talk about here."
Murtagh's voice was like the blackest of ice on the coldest winter day. "Ye're right. We have nothin' more tae talk about."
Before anyone could react, the guards who had lined the walls suddenly surged forward, surrounding Cailean and the others where they stood.
"Father, please," Sorcha pleaded in a high-pitched tone, but she was ignored as her voice drowned out in the shink of many swords being drawn around them.
Murtagh turned his back. "Seize him. I'll be in me quarters," he said carelessly, then disappeared into a side door behind his seat.
The guards descended, and Maeve reached for her dagger as chaos erupted around them. Cailean pushed her back, sending her stumbling into Fergus, just as a sword swipe narrowly missed where she was standing.
"Go!" Cailean yelled. "Go!"
"No!" Maeve shrieked, adrenaline shooting through her as she witnessed the horrifying tableau unfolding before her. She tried to run forward as the soldiers surrounded Cailean, murderous intent emanating from them, but Fergus held her back. "No, no!"
Even as she fought against him, Fergus's grip tightened. "Maeve. Maeve, we need tae run. Now!" he urged. "While they're distracted. Come on."
"They'll kill him!" Maeve cried out, still trying to get away. She couldn't even see Cailean now, lost as he was in a sea of guards.
"They willnae!" Darren countered sharply. "Whatever they want him for, they need him alive. We must get the others and get out of here."
"We need all of our strength if we're tae have any hope of rescuin' him. Come on." Fergus pulled her, and Maeve at last went limp, allowing him to pull her away, even though it felt like she was leaving her heart behind.
As they escaped through the door that they'd entered, pushing past guards who were too intent on Cailean to pay them any attention, Maeve caught one last glimpse of her love being overwhelmed by attacking soldiers.
Her gaze flicked up, and the last thing she saw before the door slammed shut was Sorcha's pale face, watching with horror as it all unfolded.
Then she, Darren, and Fergus were alone in the hallway.
There was a brief moment of silence. Fergus still held Maeve, and she allowed it—no longer as restraint, but as support. She felt a deep weakness within her bones, a sheer wrongness at leaving Cailean behind, even though she knew it was their only choice.
"What now?" Fergus asked.
"We dinnae have long," Darren said grimly. "The guards…they'll notice we're gone and come after us soon enough."
"We go tae me rooms and get Tailfeather. I willnae leave without it," Maeve insisted. "I need me sword tae fight."
"I'll go," Darren told her. "I'll gather all our weapons and regroup with ye outside the walls. Ye and Fergus go back and get the others. Get them out, and meet me in the forest."
The two cousins exchanged nods, and reluctantly, Maeve agreed.
She watched as Darren jogged off, a tightness in her stomach as he left, praying that she would see him again.
Behind the door, she could still hear the angry sounds of swords and fighting, and she desperately longed to return to Cailean's side.
But she was to be a queen, a leader. That was what Cailean wanted from her. And if that was to be her role, then she had a job to do. She shook off Fergus's grip, then looked up at him.
"Thank ye," she said. "Now come on. We need tae get tae the others before it's too late."
"Aye," Fergus said.
Without another word, the two of them began hurrying down the corridor in the direction of the room where they and the others had been waiting before.
She hoped that nobody had wandered off, and hoped they were not too late.
And all the while that she run, she felt the looming shadows extending behind them, following so close that they could barely breathe.
Murtagh McKenzie. The False King. Cailean was consumed by the shadows now, and Maeve had to find the light before it was too late.