Chapter 14
If they didn't find help soon, Eoin was going to die.
That thought was all-consuming for Breana as she desperately rode as fast as she could, the horses practically flying through the hills and valleys of the Highland north that usually seemed so beautiful but now felt oppressive.
They had not passed any civilization in some time, not even a lone farmer's hold that might have provided some respite.
Breana cursed herself over and over for not simply taking Eoin back to the inn and damn the risk—she didn't care anymore about the convent, about the mission, about the risk of being captured.
None of it mattered if Eoin didn't live through this.
"Dinnae sleep," she urged him for what felt like the millionth time. "Dinnae ye sleep. Ye havenae finished tellin' me about yer dreams. Tell me about the wee home and the bairns and the lifetime we'll have tae get tae ken and tae love one another."
"I'm… tired…" Eoin mumbled, his words a slur.
Even in the darkest depths of the night, lit only by the moon and stars, she could see the wan pallor of his face.
Her hands, clinging tight to him, were soaked with the blood that was seeping from the wound in spite of the knife still plugging it and the makeshift dressings that Breana had made. "So tired… so cold…"
"Tell me about yer sister," Breana insisted desperately.
She could not allow him to stop talking.
She could not allow him to rest, because if he did, he may never talk again.
"Tell me about how things were when ye and Mary were young and more free.
Tell me about how yer own daughters will flourish in her memory. "
"So… warm… so… kind…" he whispered in a strained voice, but whether he meant the late Mary or Breana herself or someone else entirely, Breana could not know.
They reached another treeline and rode directly into the forest, never slowing.
The horses seemed to feel Breana's urgency, racing ahead without pause, the wind whistling by, the rain now pelting them cold as ice.
Breana wished Patty were here or one of the other rebel healers.
She wished Maeve, who always knew what to do, were here.
She wished anyone were here at all, anyone who could help her, anyone who could save him.
She would even be relieved to see the False King's soldiers again—she would gladly give her own life in the bargain if it meant they would save Eoin now.
She didn't know where she was, or how far she had to go, or if there was any way they could possibly make it, but all she could do was keep going.
"Breana…" Eoin breathed. "Bre—"
Her heart ached and she clung to him more tightly. "Hold on," she urged him. "Hold on."
He spoke again, but his words were so slurred that she could no longer understand, his breaths long and shallow, and Breana understood that it was too late. He may have a little time left, but without help, it would not be enough. He was going to die in her arms.
Despair threatened to drown her, but she would not let it.
She had lost so much already. She'd believed that her beloved sister was dead until Maeve had found her again.
Her mother and father had never truly loved her, and they'd both died before she could find any solace.
Her childhood home had been ripped away from her when she'd been forced into a marriage she did not want.
Her youngest sister had been warped beyond recognition by her father's evil.
Breana had lost so much and allowed life to take it from her.
She would not allow it to take Eoin from her too.
Common sense told her to stop, to rest, but her heart told her to race on. And so she leaned forward, urging the horses with her knees to keep their pace, to keep going until they found a miracle, to—
The horse being led let out a panicked scream and reared up, pulling their mount back in the process and jolting them in the saddle.
A second later, something cut through the air right in front of her eyes, narrowly missing Breana's head, and a thud and twang sounded from the tree just to her left.
She spun her head around to see an arrow quivering there in the bark—an arrow that had only been a breath away from ending her life.
She didn't have time to calm the horses or to think. Acting on instinct, she threw herself to the side, dragging Eoin with her, trying not to think what the jolt would do to his wound as they fell hard to the ground. A moment later, another arrow sliced through the air above them.
Both horses stamped and screamed in panic, then they ran off, still tied together, and were lost in the trees in a blink of an eye.
Breana squinted in the dark and rain, holding tight to Eoin's terrifyingly still body, feeling exposed as they lay there in the dirt.
She was about to die, but she would at least see her killers before she did.
Then, there in the trees, she saw them. Not soldiers at all, but three young women, two of whom were clearly still adolescents and the third not much older. The oldest held her bow steady, aimed directly at Breana.
"Wait!" Breana cried out, desperate. "Wait, dinnae! Please, me friend, he needs help. We mean ye nae harm. Please!"
The girl paused, and she lowered her bow, signaling to the two younger girls to do the same.
Sensing her opportunity, Breana pressed it for all it was worth. "Help us!" she begged urgently. "Help us, please. He'll die if ye dinnae. Please, he's a good man."
"Good men are few these days," the leader of the girls called out. "The False King has turned their hearts. How are we tae trust yers?"
The False King. These young women were not followers of Edric Ashkirk. Breana's heart stammered, a cautious, desperate hope bubbling. "We are enemies of the False King," she insisted. "Eoin turned against him, and his injuries are from his soldiers. Please help us."
"Ye're strangers!" one of the younger girls called. "We dinnae help strangers. It's too dangerous. There's too much tae risk."
"Iona!" the third girl scolded sharply. "Keep yer tongue. Ciara will deal with this."
"What are ye doin' here?" the oldest girl, presumably Ciara, demanded. "Naebody comes tae this forest."
As she spoke, Iona disappeared into the trees.
"We're searching for… for a convent," Breana explained, stammering over her own words. She could feel that Eoin was still breathing, though the breaths were stuttering now. "A convent! We're searchin' for the princess, for Neala McNair!"
The very air around them seemed to still.
"What?" demanded the unnamed girl who had scolded Iona. "What are ye talkin' about? How dae ye— How can ye—?"
"Neala McNair died twenty years ago with the rest of her family. Everyone kens that," Ciara said calmly. She raised her bow again.
"Please!" Breana cried out. "Please, we need to find her. We need tae tell her that her brother is alive. That her family survived!"
"Neala doesnae have any family except us," the younger girl snapped. "We're her sisters, Iona and me and the rest of us."
"Cailean McNair is alive," Breana insisted.
"He's alive and leadin' the rebellion. He reclaimed Bruce Castle for Kier Bruce.
He rescued me sister, Maeve, and me as well.
He saved Eoin, this man bleedin' here, from a life servin' an evil father.
He's his friend. He's me friend, too. Please, ye must believe me.
Cailean McNair is alive, and he's searchin' for his sister. "
She was rambling, trying to convince them, but part of her didn't care anymore if they believed her or not. None of it seemed to matter. She just needed them to trust her enough that they'd help Eoin, because if he died here, Breana felt like her heart and soul would go with him.
A tense silence followed, punctuated by nothing but the sound of rain. Iona emerged from the trees ahead, leading the now-calmed horses with her. Ciara watched them suspiciously, and the other girl just stared.
"Cat," Iona whispered. "Ciara. I think this lass is tellin' the truth."
"I think so as well," Ciara admitted, sounding cautious and reluctant. "I think… I think we should trust them. At least until Laura can figure out what's goin' on."
The third girl, who must have been Cat, took a breath. Her expression was anguished, torn. Then she nodded. "Neala… Neala went tae Blackthorn Castle," she said. "She's gone tae face the False King. If yer leader really is Cailean McNair, he'll find her there."
Breana knew that this information should be exciting. It should make her feel something. But the desperation clouded everything, and she could not focus on any of it. "Please. We've made it this far. Please help Eoin. I'll do anythin', I'll—I dinnae ken, just please help him."
Another terse silence followed. Then, slowly, cautiously, Ciara and Iona slowly climbed down from the tree. Iona approached, and without a word, the three Sparrows—for they must have been Sparrows—gently prised Eoin from Breana's grasping arms.
"Let us help," Iona said softly. "Neala would want us tae, if this Eoin is Cailean's friend, as ye say."
It felt almost impossible to let go of him, but somehow, Breana did it.
She sat there, her head suddenly aching where she had hit it earlier, the exhaustion overwhelming her all at once.
She watched dully as the three women gently lifted Eoin onto the back of one of the horses, positioning him as best they could so he would not get any further damage.
Then Cat moved back to Breana and offered her hand.
Breana took it without thinking, barely conscious of her own actions at this point.
She was unclear about the next few moments. All she knew was that she was being led by Cat, while Iona and Ciara were supporting Eoin and leading the horse, and that they were moving. All she knew was that there was still a chance.
They'd only been walking for a few minutes when they arrived at a strange parting in the trees. The girls led the horses and Breana through, and Breana's breath caught in her throat as her eyes took in the sight before her.
The forest abruptly opened up onto a grassy field right at a cliff's edge.
As they moved forward, Breana could hear the rushing waves of the North Sea far below them, and she knew that if she looked out over the cliff during the day, she'd see nothing but the great ocean for miles.
It felt like she was at the edge of the world.
A small collection of buildings lay in the center of the field against the backdrop of the cliffs.
One was a small stable, another looked to be a simple glasshouse for growing and protecting plants in the Scottish winter.
But dominating the scene, imposing and grand and seemingly ancient, was the convent.
The grand stone building, modest and yet powerful, had clearly stood and been maintained for hundreds of years, and though the nuns were long since gone, the spiritual power still crackled in the air around it.
Breana felt small and humble and remained silent as the women led her right to the grand entrance door.
The door opened as they approached, and an older woman appeared, casting her eyes over them.
She had clearly known they were approaching, perhaps having watched from one of the towers above, or maybe the spirits of the women long past had whispered the secrets on the wind.
This woman looked dignified, powerful, and Breana felt that whatever the woman said would change the course of her life.
"Laura," Ciara said in a low voice which Breana wasn't sure if she was supposed to overhear, "This lass says she is lookin' for Neala."
"She says that the rebel leader really is Cailean McNair. That he's alive!" Iona burst out. "She says—"
Laura turned sharply to Iona, then her eyes focused on Breana, a penetrating gaze that made Breana feel more seen than she ever had in her life.
Breana tried to speak, but the words would not come.
She tried to explain who she was. She longed to describe how she'd known to come here, how she knew Cailean, how they had learned the secret of Neala being alive.
She knew there was so much she needed to say for her own sake and for the sake of the rebellion.
But when she opened her mouth, the only thing that managed to escape was, "Please help me friend. He'll die if ye dinnae."
The older woman looked away at last, focusing on Eoin's still body atop the horse. She moved forward, examining him.
"She says his name is Eoin," Iona said. "She says he's Cailean's friend—that they both are. How can any of this be true?"
"Many things are true, Catriona," Laura said quietly. "Many impossible things. Come with me while I take this lass inside and check that wound on her head. Fetch her somethin' tae eat."
Breana raised a hand dully to her hair. She hadn't realized before, but she felt the back of her head matted with blood. She'd obviously been hurt worse than she'd thought when she fell. "Does this mean… does this mean ye'll help?"
Laura didn't answer her. "Ciara, fetch some of the other older lassies and bring the carryin' frame. Ye can manage?"
Ciara nodded tersely. "We'll take him tae the infirmary," she confirmed.
"Iona, take the horses tae the stables," Laura finished. Then, her orders given, she moved to Breana's side and gently took her by the arm. "Come, lass. It seems we have much tae talk about."