Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Aaron’s thoughts refused to settle.
His gaze drifted repeatedly toward Edith’s empty seat as he stood with his arms folded, half-listening to Robert’s account of a recent skirmish on the border.
What could possibly be keeping her this long?
Edith had left Scarlett’s side about half an hour ago, and yet there was no trace of her anywhere. He knew because he had swept his gaze over the crowd three times now.
He excused himself from the men, crossing to the shaded area where Scarlett still sat.
“Where is she?” he asked, his voice sharper than he had intended.
Scarlett glanced up. “Edith?”
“Aye. She has been gone for too long.”
Scarlett sighed, and only then did he notice the somber expression on her face. His brows knitted together.
“She went to get some water,” she said, her gaze wavering slightly as though there were something she did not want to say.
Aaron leaned closer to her. He watched her without saying a word, and she shifted in her seat, holding out for only a moment before she cracked.
“Aaron.” Her voice carried a note of hesitation. “She only needed air. Surely she’ll be back soon.”
“Air?” Aaron straightened.
It doesnae make sense.
He turned around, and Scarlett’s hand shot out, catching his sleeve.
“Wait.” Her voice rose slightly as she sat up. She cleared her throat, adjusting her posture under the watchful eyes of the councilmen nearby. “I suppose…” She hesitated briefly. “It will be better if I find her.”
Aaron swallowed, his gaze flitting across his sister’s face. Too many eyes were watching them now. If he left the festival to look for Edith, it might spark rumors about their betrothal. Not that he cared.
He stepped back reluctantly, his gaze lingering on Scarlett’s face.
“Find her,” he said.
She nodded. “Aye. I will.”
Before he could move away, a hand brushed slightly against him from behind, almost like a tap. He turned around sharply to find a young lad at his elbow.
The lad looked no older than sixteen or seventeen, his face pale beneath a layer of dust. His eyes were wide and terrified, and his lips trembled.
“Me Laird,” he said, his voice small under the music. “I have a message. For ye alone.”
Aaron frowned. He looked toward the guards under the shade, wondering how the lad had managed to slip past them, before returning his attention to him.
“Who are ye?”
The lad’s eyes darted nervously past his shoulder, and he followed his gaze, catching only the briefest glimpse of a man in black disappearing westward beyond the courtyard’s edge.
Unease coiled in Aaron’s gut.
Edith.
He signaled to Caelan, and his man-at-arms understood at once, slipping from beside Robert but keeping it subtle enough that no onlooker would notice.
Aaron gripped the lad’s shoulder hard enough to be firm without inflicting pain, guiding him into the castle away from the noise and the crowd.
Once they were inside, Aaron half-dragged him through the Great Hall. Caelan fell into step behind them, his hand resting on the dirk at his belt.
The door closed behind them with a heavy thud, and Aaron’s gaze hardened at once, his voice dropping to a low growl.
“Speak,” he ordered, releasing the lad but positioning himself directly in front of him. “Now.”
The lad cowered, fear flashing across his face as his wide eyes darted wildly between Aaron and Caelan.
“Laird M-MacFaris,” he stammered. “He has… he has Lady Hallow.”
Aaron’s blood ran cold, the words ringing in his ears. He grabbed the lad’s shoulders, his fingers digging hard enough to draw blood.
“Where?”
“I daenae ken,” the lad said, wincing as he forced out the words. “He says ye must sign over yer lands or he will harm her.” He swallowed hard. “If ye refuse…” His voice cracked. “She dies. And he threatens war.”
The room seemed to tilt slightly beneath Aaron’s feet.
He released his grip on the lad’s shoulder, and the lad immediately scrabbled backward, his steps faltering until his back hit the table.
“Please, me Laird.” A tear slid down his cheek. “Let me go.”
A muscle ticked in Aaron’s jaw. “Where?” he repeated, his voice dangerously quiet.
The lad swallowed, his lips trembling as Aaron took a closer look at him. “I swear it, me Laird.” His words came out in a rush as he looked frantically around the small chamber. “I daenae ken where they took her. I was only told to deliver the message.”
Aaron took another step closer, his blood boiling with barely controlled fury. “Ye expect me to believe—”
“Please.” The lad’s voice broke, his hands shaking visibly. “He has me maither. He said if I didnae deliver the message, he would—”
“Who gave ye this message?” Caelan cut in, his voice steady, though no less sharp. “MacFaris himself?”
“Nay.” The lad shook his head quickly, tears streaming down his face. “A young man in black. He asked me to deliver a message from MacFaris. Said he kent where me maither worked, and that he—” He broke off, wiping snot with the back of his hand.
Aaron looked away, forcing himself to breathe.
Think. Rage willnae find her.
“This man in black,” he said, his voice carefully controlled now despite everything screaming inside him. “He left after givin’ ye the message?”
The lad nodded frantically. “Aye. I ran straight to find ye.”
Aaron’s chest tightened. He had spotted a man disappearing west earlier in the courtyard, but he had barely seen his face, and he was not certain it was him.
“Did he say anythin’ else?” Caelan pressed. “Anythin’ at all about where Lady Hallow might be held?”
The lad hesitated, his eyes flicking nervously between the two men. “Nay…” he said quietly. “But he said he’s keeping me maither west of the well. I only have to deliver this message before—” He stopped himself, horror crossing his young face at whatever he had been about to say.
“Before what?” Caelan demanded.
“Before he kills her, me Laird,” the lad whispered. “Please, save me maither.”
Silence fell over the chamber, heavy and absolute.
It was as though the word kill had driven a dagger through Aaron’s chest. His fists tightened at his sides, his entire body coiling with a fury he rarely ever allowed himself to feel.
He turned to Caelan, his voice dropping to a cold calm that preceded action rather than panic.
“Gather men as discreetly as ye can,” he ordered through gritted teeth. “I willnae have MacFaris alerted that we ken his position before we catch him.”
They had to be west of the castle, near the abandoned gate. It was the only way the old bastard would have sneaked into his land undetected.
“Aye, me Laird.” Caelan was already moving toward the door.
“Wait.”
Caelan paused.
Aaron looked back at the lad, who was visibly shaking as he crouched into a ball at his feet. “See that he is fed and kept safe until this is resolved,” he said. “Have someone search for his maither as well.”
Caelan nodded, already gesturing for one of the guards stationed outside the chamber to come collect the lad.
Once the door had closed behind them, Aaron stood alone for a brief moment, his hands still clenched, his chest tight with a fear he had not permitted himself to fully feel until now.
He thought of Edith’s smile in the courtyard. The warmth of her hand in his only an hour ago, the dance that had felt like something far more honest than a performance.
He thought of MacFaris’s hands anywhere near her, and something in his chest threatened to splinter.
If that bastard has harmed her—
He did not finish the thought. There was no room for it.
His chest tightened with a cold, methodical fury, a resolve settling in his bones as he strode out of the room, Caelan following behind him.
He would find her. Whatever it cost him.