Chapter 15 #2
O'Sullivan stumbled, falling to his knees on the ground in front of Cailean, still clutching his bleeding arm. He stared up at Cailean with eyes filled with hatred.
"Do it!" O'Sullivan yelled, spittle forming around his mouth. "Kill me, then, Pretender Prince! The True King will kill ye all where ye stand! He'll slaughter yer rebellion, every last man. He'll be rid of me traitor daughters. And then, when ye've lost everythin', he'll kill ye as well."
Cailean set his jaw, then hit out with the blunt end of his sword, swiping the laird across the head. O'Sullivan fell to the ground, unconscious, but very much not dead.
He turned back to Maeve, but she was gone, already on her feet again.
She'd gone scrambling into the now heaving crowd on the platform, retrieving her sword, and launched right back into the fighting.
Nearby, Eoin and Darren were fighting fiercely too, and Cailean realized that he had no time to think about what he had just done.
There was still a fight to win.
Breana felt endlessly frustrated as she listened to the fighting break out just beyond the walls.
Eoin had found her and Darren shortly after his attempted rescue of Cailean and explained the plan.
But while Eoin had gone to find Maeve and Darren had pretended to be one of the guards, Breana, who had no combat training, was made to promise to stay away from the action.
She had protested, but Eoin had pleaded with her, and she'd eventually given in—after all, if she were honest, she would be no help on the battlefield.
Instead, she'd stayed in the castle, the horrible place that had once been her home, and made her way to her father's study.
She'd felt an intense fear as she entered the room, a place that had only ever been a den of punishment for her, so much so that she'd almost run away without getting what she'd come here for.
But she steeled herself. She might not be able to fight on a battlefield, but she remembered Eoin's words.
Bravery came in many different forms, and facing her demons in this room was something she had to do.
The information she could potentially retrieve from this study could turn the tide for the rebellion once and for all.
It took a little searching, but she soon found what she was looking for.
A complicated map was rolled up in a little cache hidden behind her father's desk.
She took it out and flattened it across the table, taking in the complex depiction of the Highlands and all of the clan lands.
There were diagrams and icons all over, confusing to anyone who was not experienced in cartography, but to Breana, it was a goldmine of information.
O'Sullivan had laid it all out. The plans for the next few attacks.
The allyships he had already secured and the ones he was targeting next, all in the name of the False King.
This was information that could really sway the path for the rebels, information they would have had to fight a war for if not for Breana's help—because she alone could understand exactly what it meant.
Exactly how they could use it to their advantage.
For the first time in a long, long time—maybe for the first time in forever—Breana felt a flood of pride in herself and her abilities.
She couldn't bring the whole map with her, so she quickly copied down the relevant information into her own little book, then went searching for anything else she could find in the room that might help.
Breana put a few books and a few letters she uncovered into her bag, then froze as her fingers found something under her father's desk. A little hidden drawer popped out when she pressed it, and inside was a single letter.
Breana’s breath caught as she recognized the handwriting on the envelope.
With shaking hands, she drew out the paper and unfolded it, revealing to her what might possibly have been the last words that her mother ever wrote to her father.
My beloved James,
The end is drawing near for me. Our time is short, my love, and it's important you have the truth on paper about what you must do when I am gone.
Our daughter, Nessa, is my pride and joy.
She has fulfilled everything that her sisters could not, and I want nothing more in my heart and soul than for her to carry on the legacy of our families.
Find her a husband who can take on your title when we are both gone, one who will respect the name of O'Sullivan so that our bloodlines can continue to rule long after our bodies are buried.
As for the others—Darach seems pleased with his bride, and so at least our most troublesome daughter is in a place where she can no longer cause us any shame.
Visit Maeve once a year and ensure that she remembers who her family is, and where her loyalty lies.
Through her and the son she will one day have, we can maintain the power of Darach and a good portion of the Highlands for ourselves.
And finally, for Breana, the softhearted child who seems to have come from neither of us.
I despair about what we are to do with this girl.
She is pretty enough, but she does not have Maeve's extraordinary beauty, nor does she possess the wit and poise of our beloved Nessa.
But she is our oldest daughter, and eyes are upon us, always.
Find her a husband who is loyal to the throne, but act as though she is your greatest prize, your most priceless gem. Use her wisely, when the time is right.
And now to you, my husband. Forgive me, if you can, for never bearing you the son you so desired.
Know that my dedication to the O'Sullivan name will carry long beyond this life.
You are amongst the king's most trusted soldiers, and I go to my grave proud of you and all that you have done.
We deserved the wealth and the power that has come to us, and I trust in you, my love, to do all that you can to maintain it, no matter the cost.
Let the country know that we are the ones who rule. Let them know our might.
Ensure our daughter follows in our footsteps, and that the other two can be used to find us favor in the eyes of the king. Live on, my laird, and remember what is truly important. Allow our name to soar. Allow our wealth to grow. And remember, always remember, who we are.
We are O'Sullivans. And this country is ours.
Yours, in life and death,
Rose
Breana stared at the letter, tears in her eyes, her hands shaking so badly that the words wouldn't stay still. She had known what her mother thought of her, known that she was never anything to them but a tool, but to see it so starkly…
Strangely, though, it didn't break her. It gave her a kind of renewed strength. Her mother had thought she and Maeve as nothing more than pawns, but had they not shown already that they were beyond that? Malcolm and Kyle Darach were both dead.
Breana and Maeve had built lives beyond what was expected of them.
Maeve would one day be queen of all of Scotland, having found the love of her life and the strength to fight.
And Breana… Breana had found she had skills, too.
Quieter skills, but no less important. She thought of Eoin, of the first man who had made her feel alive, and smiled.
Yes, she was stronger than anyone had ever thought of her.
She was no softhearted child, but a woman, strong and proud.
She may never lift a sword, but that did not mean that she was weak.
Eoin had taught her that. Maeve had taught her that.
And at that moment, in defiance of her mother's words, she'd taught herself that too.
Tucking the letter away with the rest of the things she was taking, Breana turned and left the study, hurrying to get outside and into the fray.
She may not be able to battle, but that did not mean that she was out of the fight.
And she would protect her sister, the rebels, and her true family—in whatever way she could.
Maeve was growing exhausted. The fighting had died down as the attacking force had realized that O'Sullivan had been downed.
Those who had fought on the side of the rebels had rounded up the attacking force and were keeping them at bay.
Her father's unconscious body had been whisked away at some point in the confusion, and nobody could figure out where they'd gone.
Cailean, Maeve, Darren, and Eoin finally met in the middle of the raised platform, standing together in the eerie silence that followed the intense battle. Maeve had the horrible feeling that this quiet was false; they had not gotten through the storm yet, but only to the eye.
Each of them carried their own wounds, but none looked worse for the wear. Darren was the first to speak, a wild smile on his face, looking alive and bright. "Do ye think that's all they have tae throw at us?"
"I hope so," Cailean replied, sounding grim. "I'll fight tae me last breath if I have tae, but I'd rather that last breath not be today."
Eoin squinted out over the crowd, then gasped. "Look! Is that…is that Breana?"
Maeve turned and stared out down to the ground level. Sure enough, there was Breana, fighting her way through the crowd with a single-minded determination on her face. A few moments later, she had reached the platform, and Maeve put down a hand to help her sister clamber up.
"Ye were supposed tae stay inside. Tae stay safe until we could come and find ye," Eoin told her, strong worry in his tone.
Breathless, Breana waved him away. She clutched Maeve's hand and asked, "Nessa?"
"She…she disappeared…" Maeve replied, feeling sorrow clawing at her heart. "Maybe we can go find her, maybe we can…"
"We cannae," Breana said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but we have tae go. Now. I overheard…the reinforcements, they're comin' now. The False King has sent men tae protect his asset, and it willnae be long before they get here."
"We cannae leave," Cailean said immediately. "We cannae."
Maeve knew the feeling. Her impulse was to stay, too; to keep fighting by these brave people who had taken up arms to protect their king.
But she looked around the battlefield, and at each of her friends, and saw the exhaustion and pain there.
They would not be able to hold themselves up against another full-frontal attack.
She placed a hand on Cailean's arm. "Love," she said, "This cannae be the end. These people, all of our people, they need ye. I need ye."
Cailean met her eyes, and Maeve felt the hesitation there, the way he was torn between what his duty and heart told him and the absolute reality of the situation. Eventually, though, it ripped him apart inside, and he nodded in response to her beseeching look.
"We're nae runnin'," she promised him. "But we have tae go. Or it will all have been for nothin'."
She held out a hand. And Cailean took it.