Chapter 8
Maeve and Fergus managed to gather the others and mobilize them fairly quickly, but not quickly enough. As they were hurrying out of the entrance to the castle, they heard shouts, and soon guards were hurrying after them.
"What happened?" Deirdre demanded. "Where is Cailean?"
"Do we stay and fight?" Dirk asked uneasily as they burst out into the cold light of day. "Do we go back for him?"
"No. Run!" Maeve commanded, a tightness in her chest from the rush of trying to escape and from the agony of being separated from Cailean while he was in danger. "Just run!"
Nobody questioned her orders, and the ten of them kept running.
They could hear the shouts behind them that indicated their enemies were drawing closer.
Maeve's heart was in her throat, but she did not stop, did not look back, only focusing on the tree line before them.
She wished they'd had time to retrieve their horses, but there was no hope of that now.
All that was left was the chance to run.
They reached the treeline after what felt like an eternity and scattered into the forest, each of them finding a place to hide. Maeve scrambled up a tree, ignoring the way the branches scratched at her skin and made her bleed, knowing that higher ground would give her some protection.
The guards burst through the trees only a few moments later, an impossible number of them, calling and jeering.
Maeve felt panic beating at her breast; this moment reminded her of some of the worst moments in her life.
The night she'd almost died. The first night she'd been forced to take a life.
She ached for Tailfeather now, or even better, to have Cailean standing by her side, but both seemed so far away that it felt like she'd never see them again.
As the McKenzie men searched, Maeve simply prayed that all of her friends had been able to hide well, or at least could keep moving long enough to keep the wolves at bay.
Where was Darren? Had he managed to find their weapons and escape safely, or had he been captured too?
The thought made Maeve dizzy, but she clung to the tree branch, desperate not to let herself be overwhelmed by despair.
It seemed like many hours, though Maeve had no way of knowing for sure how much time had passed before the McKenzie men at last gave up on their search and marched together back toward McKenzie Castle.
Maeve stayed up in the tree for a lot longer after that, waiting until she was sure they were gone before she risked returning to the ground level.
Immediately after she had, she set out to find her friends. To her relief, Darren was one of the first she came across. Impulsively, she threw her arms around him, and he hugged her back tightly in the kind of warm brotherly embrace she needed right now.
"Ye're safe," she whispered. "Thank God. I didnae see ye get here."
"I found another way out. And, look." Darren pointed to the bushes behind him. He reached in and pulled out a bundle of swords—Tailfeather among them.
A sense of calmness settled over Maeve as she took her sword in her hand, reassurance that all was not lost. This weapon was a connection to Cailean, and she was sure that, wherever he was, he was still alive and waiting for her to come save him. "Thank ye, for bringin' it tae me."
"Of course. Let's find the others," Darren told her.
They spent the better part of half an hour searching the forest, and much to Maeve's joy, this at least was not a fruitless endeavor.
They found all nine of the others, each of them concealed cleverly in hiding places, each of them overjoyed to be reunited with their companions.
Even young Dirk had done well, finding a hollow to hide in while the enemy had invaded.
Once everyone had their weapons in hand, and they had all made sure that nobody was more than superficially hurt, all eyes turned to Maeve and Darren.
"Well?" Maeve asked him. "Ye heard Cailean. Ye're his second in command, his heir. Ye must take over now; tell us what is tae be done."
But Darren shook his head. "I may be his heir for the moment, but ye're already his queen. A weddin' is only a formality for the two of ye at this point. The command is yers, Maeve."
Touched and overwhelmed by the gesture, Maeve felt tears spring to her eyes, though of course she did not let them fall. She looked out around her friends and saw that all of them were watching her with the same respect, waiting for her to make a decision—to lead them.
It seemed almost too much. She felt exhausted, scared, and desperate to get to Cailean. But as she had already told herself, and as Darren had rightly pointed out, she was to be a queen.
And if she was going to be a queen, she had a job to do.
"All right," she said. "Listen up. We need tae find a way tae get help, and get word back tae Bruce Castle about what has happened."
"I can help with that," a voice announced in a lilting French accent.
All eleven heads turned to see a woman emerge from the trees, wearing a simple maid's uniform. Maeve recognized her instantly.
"Ye're Sorcha's maid. Delphine," she acknowledged.
"I am. And I regret leaving the girl alone. But I go where I am needed, and right now, I believe you are in need, no?" Delphine asked.
She tapped her chest, and Maeve saw at last what she had missed there before.
Embroidered in a small patch right on Delphine's lapel was a tiny white sparrow.
They followed Delphine through the forest, though Maeve always kept her hand close to the hilt of her sword.
She trusted the White Sparrows to guide them, and she believed that Delphine was trying to help, but a tiny part of her remembered that they had been betrayed before.
She was on the edge of tears, but not the kind that would result in quiet sobbing; a storm of desperation and fury raged within her chest, and she knew that if she let them go she would rage and scream and howl louder than the winds of the wildest tempest.
And so Maeve set her face and remained calm, pushing on, leading her group, following the only lead they had.
Delphine explained that she had been placed at McKenzie Castle as a spy many years ago, just as Maeve's friend Ann had been placed at Darach Castle, what felt like so long ago.
Maeve almost asked if Delphine knew Ann, but she couldn't bring herself to concentrate on that right now.
Where was Cailean? Was he hurt? Was he in danger? She was sure that he was not dead; her heart would know if he was gone from the world. But the not knowing…it made her feel weak, helpless in a way she hadn't been in a long time, and she hated it.
"We're here," Delphine announced, pushing back a tree branch and opening the way to a small cottage.
They were deep in the forest, and the small house was hidden away almost from the rest of the world.
A vegetable patch and several crops surrounded the little farmhouse, and a sheep or two grazed on the wild forest grass.
The door opened at Delphine's knock, and a broad-shouldered man with salt-and-pepper hair stood in the door frame. He briefly took Delphine's hand in greeting, then peered at the people gathered behind her.
"My uncle, Taran," Delphine introduced. "He is the reason I have moved to this country and discovered the Sparrows. He will protect you and give you a place to stay."
"I will, will I?" Taran asked in a broad Scots accent that was a startling contrast to his niece, casting his eyes over them again.
Maeve saw a strength in that gaze that was younger than his years, and kindness, too.
She felt innately that she could trust him.
"What strays have ye brought me now, Del? "
Maeve stepped forward. "Please, sir. Me name is Maeve O'Sullivan—"
"O'Sullivan?" Taran asked, narrowing his eyes. He looked to Delphine. "Is this her? The lass who led the McNair rebels and retook Bruce Castle?"
"Aye, ‘tis her," Darren replied instead. "I am Darren Bruce, and these are me cousins, Fergus and Dirk. The others are warriors under the banner of our true king, Cailean McNair."
"And where is the king now?" Taran asked. He seemed to take the announcement in his stride; perhaps Delphine had already told him about the visitors to McKenzie castle. "Is he with ye?"
"Cailean McNair has been captured," Maeve told him. Her voice almost cracked a little, and she clenched her fists so hard that she felt welts in her palms. "He—they—"
Taran's eyes darkened, and he exchanged a long look with his niece, then nodded. "Come in, then. There's plenty of room upstairs for ye tae sleep, if straw beds are good enough for ye. Come in and I'll get ye some soup."
Delphine nodded. "Go. I will scout a little further and join you all soon," she encouraged. She took Maeve's hand and squeezed it. "Stay strong, young queen," she said quietly. Then she dropped Maeve's hand and was gone, disappeared into the night.
"He's worse than a tyrant," Taran explained as he, Maeve, and Darren sat at his small table over cups of nettle tea.
Fergus and the others had retreated upstairs to rest at the insistence of Maeve, who wanted to make sure that the rebels—her rebels—had enough rest to make them worth their strength in the battle to come. They would save Cailean. They had to.
"What do ye mean?" Maeve asked. "What's worse than a tyrant?"
"An opportunist." Taran shook his head. "Me daughter is a Sparrow too, did Delphine tell ye that? We sent her tae warn ye of his treachery, tae prevent all of this." He sighed, looking out of the window. "Me Barbara never returned. I'd hoped she'd be with ye."
"I'm sorry. We didnae meet anyone until we reached here," Darren told him quietly. "I'm sure yer Barbara is safe. Perhaps she's at Bruce Castle even now."
"What do ye mean an opportunist?" Maeve demanded. "What treachery? What has he done?"