Page 32

The dense, unmoving cold of centuries hit him first, clinging to his skin like breathless water.

This chill had teeth. The dungeon smelled of mildew, sweat, and something coppery beneath it all.

The torches lining the walls burned low, their flames stuttering in their sconces, casting long, jittering shadows across the damp flagstones.

The air was thick, heavy with silence and the slow, rhythmic drip of water from the ceiling.

Tav’s eyes adjusted slowly. Vaulted ceilings loomed above, curved like a ribcage. Stone cells yawned open on either side, most empty, others closed with thick bars. The flicker of torchlight caught on rings of rusted metal, on dark stains in the corners of the room.

A chill uncoiled down his spine. Not from the cold, but from memory. He had been in places like this before. Had heard men scream in them. Had been one of them once, long ago, in Armstrong’s dungeon. Would he be chained to the wall for a second time?

Caithness led him in without a word and Tav followed, his boots scraping against the damp flagstones. The low groan of the heavy iron door closed behind them. He was already tense, already bracing for whatever came next—interrogation, accusation, punishment.

But instead, Caithness stopped a few paces into the chamber, arms crossed, gaze trained ahead.

“I wanted ye tae see this,” the laird said quietly.

Tav frowned. His eyes adjusted slowly to the gloom. At the far wall, hunched and shackled, was a man. His face was swollen, one eye blackened shut, a cut splitting his lower lip. But he was alert. Watching.

It took a moment, but recognition stirred. He was one of Armstrong’s men.

Tav’s brows drew together. “I dinnae understand.”

Caithness stepped forward, but kept his voice low, as if speaking too loudly might wake something better left sleeping.

“After yer ambush,” he said, “we sent riders tae comb the nearby hills. This one was found just beyond the river pass, claiming tae be a lost guard from a merchant train. Said he’d been attacked by the same outlaws. Wasn’t a terrible lie.”

Tav watched the prisoner without blinking.

“But it didnae hold,” Caithness continued. “Nae once we brought him here and searched him.”

Tav looked over. “He talked?”

Caithness nodded. “Aye. Took a while. But he cracked. And what he said…” The laird’s jaw flexed. “It matters. Tae ye, especially.”

Tav stepped closer. The man didn’t look away. In fact, he seemed to steel himself under Tav’s gaze.

“What did he say?” Tav asked, voice low.

Caithness nodded once at the prisoner. “Tell him.”

The man’s voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t used it in days. “It was never about the girl,” he rasped.

Tav stiffened. “What?”

“She was just a way in. A lure. We were after ye. That was the job.”

Tav’s pulse spiked. “That cannae be?—”

“We had orders,” the man went on, his eye flicking toward Caithness for a moment before returning to Tav. “Armstrong said tae intercept the Kerr girl’s party. Kill the escort. Kill the soldier.”

Tav took another step forward. “Why?”

“Didnae say.” The man’s head lolled slightly against the wall. “Didnae matter. All we kent was ‘Dinnae come back without the bastard dead’.”

The silence in the room cracked like glass.

Tav blinked. “What did ye call me?”

The man was silent.

“What did ye just say?” Tav asked again.

The prisoner’s expression didn’t change. “Just repeating orders.”

Tav stepped closer, the chains rattling as the man stiffened slightly.

“Bastard,” Tav repeated under his breath.

No answer. Tav turned toward Caithness, expecting clarity. But the laird’s face was hard to read. His eyes didn’t meet Tav’s right away.

“What is this?” Tav asked.

Caithness exhaled through his nose. “It’s what it sounds like. He wants tae murder ye. I Dianne want tae read too much intae the word choice just yet, but it is rather odd he would say bastard.”

Tav frowned. “What in the hells daes that mean?”

“I’ve written tae Laird Kerr,” Caithness said, changing tack. “Told him what we’ve uncovered. Asked fer guidance. Until he replies, I’m asking ye tae remain inside the castle.”

Tav blinked. “Ye think I’ll be attacked again?”

“Ye were nearly killed once already,” Caithness said, voice sharp. “I’m nae givin’ them another chance.”

“I can handle meself,” Tav replied, almost by instinct.

Caithness looked directly at him now, his eyes stern. “I ken. But that’s nae the point. We’ve nae got the full picture yet. Armstrong’s sendin’ men across the country tae see ye dead, and ye think I should let ye stroll out the gates with a sword and a bleeding wound?”

Tav opened his mouth, then closed it again.

The laird sighed and ran a hand down his jaw. “Ye’ve done more than anyone asked of ye, Graham. But this—this goes deeper than I like. And I’m nae puttin’ more men in the ground when I could keep ye breathing just by asking ye tae stay.”

Tav looked at the prisoner one last time. The man said nothing now. Didn’t even meet his eye.

He turned back to Caithness. His throat was dry. “I… thank ye. Truly.”

Caithness’s brow lifted, surprised.

“I ken I havenae made things easy,” Tav continued. “But I’m grateful. Fer this. Fer—helping me.”

The laird waved a hand, almost uncomfortable with the sentiment. “Ye owe me nay thanks. I’m only daein’ what’s right.”

“I think we both ken that’s rarer than it should be.”

Caithness snorted softly at that. “Well, maybe. But it’s what I owe ye. And if there’s anything ye need—ye ask.”

Tav looked at him, weighed the words, then shook his head slowly. “Ye owe me nothing.”

Caithness studied him. Then gave a small nod, as if accepting the statement without argument. “I’ve a council meeting I’m late fer,” he said, turning toward the corridor. “Will ye be alright?”

Tav nodded. “Aye.”

Caithness gave him one last long look. “Dinnae be afraid tae rest.”

Then he was gone, boots echoing off the stone as he climbed back toward the world above. Tav stood alone in the dungeon. He exhaled slowly, the breath shaking as it left him.

It didn’t make sense. None of it. The prisoner’s words, the tone, Armstrong’s fixation on wanting him dead. And Caithness—he’d avoided the question entirely. There was something more here. Tav could feel it. Not just the assassination attempt. Not just the cold politics of Armstrong’s ambition.

There was something else at play here. He didn’t know what it meant yet. But he would find out. At any cost.