Page 31 of The Highlander’s Enchanted Healer (Spellbound Hearts #2)

Stone walls glistened with damp as I lay huddled on the cold, uneven floor of the dungeon.

The air tasted of mildew and sweat, and each breath felt heavy with despair.

I had lost all sense of time—hours, days—until a sudden shaft of torchlight slashed through the narrow slit of my cell door.

Lennox, my burly guard, slid inside, bearing a coarse wool plaid, a bruised hunk of brown bread, and a chipped jug of mead.

His heavy boots clomped away before the light died again, and I sank back onto the rushes, my soiled gown my only companion.

When the door creaked open a second time, I forced myself upright, grit clattering from my teeth.

At least I could ask how long I’d been here, what was happening beyond these stones. I expected silence, but I had to try.

Two figures stepped into the gloom—Alba and Isla, side by side, their cloaks whispering against the floor. My pulse thundered. “Did Ross send ye to grant me a final moment…to speak my peace before I’m slain?” My voice cracked on the words.

Alba’s cheeks were pale, and her green eyes held a faint ember of sorrow rather than ire. “If ye think my brother would slay ye outright, then ye truly do nae ken him.” The edge of her voice carried disappointment more bitter than any venom.

I let the question tumble into the silence as I thought of Breeda and what her fate might have been. “Was Breeda traded for Allan?” I asked.

Alba shook her head. “Ross offered the trade, but yer stepbrother refused it. He wishes Ross’s defeat more than he cared to have Breeda back.”

“What has become of her?”

“Ross gave her a choice,” Alba said, her voice emotionless. “Live her life on the Isle of the Damned or receive a merciful quick death.”

The Isle of the Damned—jagged cliffs lashed by salt spray, cells carved into black stone where murderers and rapists rotted away in penance, doomed to wander in agony so their souls might be spared eternal torment.

Both choices were terrible, but death would be better than living there. “What did she choose?” I asked.

“She’s dead,” Isla replied with an unemotional tone that matched Alba’s.

I shivered at that news. “Am I to be offered for trade?”

Alba drew a trembling breath. “Ross can nae trade ye for Allan. Ye are a weapon in Ramsey’s hands with yer powers.”

“Then what does he intend to do with me?”

“Ye’ll be cast out to the Isle of the Damned,” Alba said.

“I do nae get to choose death if I wish it?” I asked, even as my heart seemed to slow, and my breath caught in my throat.

“Nay,” Alba said. “I do nae think Ross has it in ye to kill ye.”

I clenched my jaw on a cry—for all the pain I had caused and was causing, and for my own dismal fate. This was Ross’s mercy: exile me to mortal misery so that I would escape suffering in death.

Isla’s cold gaze bore into me. “Do ye think ye deserve any kinder fate?”

I thought of my crime—giving Ramsey the tactical information—and I shook my head.

“Nay.” The word came out choked, and tears pressed against my eyes.

“When I came here, I believed yer da had killed my family, and I believed Ross had to have kenned it and continued to wage war against us. But as I got to ken him, I had doubts. So many doubts. I sent the information early on, but I should have told Ross the minute my doubts surfaced. It’s just—”

“Ye were nae certain,” Alba said, her tone strangely gentle.

“Aye,” I croaked, my throat tight with the need to cry.

“Aye. Years spent dreaming of vengeance, then meeting a man whose honor shone contrary to every expectation. To trust his goodness meant conceding that the only relation I had left—my stepbrother—was the monster I’d feared. ” Tears ran down my grimy cheeks.

Alba shifted her cloak and studied me. “If ye were free now, what would ye do?”

The question felt like sunlight appearing in a dark sky.

“I would beg yer brother’s forgiveness, though I ken he will nae ever trust me again or give it.

I would try to think of some way to prove to him that I love him, that he can trust me.

I would…I would go to my home and figure out a way to free Allan. ”

They exchanged a charged glance, silent and urgent. Desperation flickered in their eyes, desperation I instinctively knew they hoped I could relieve. “I can help ye,” I whispered, voice trembling. “Whatever drove ye here, I will aid ye.”

They looked at each other once more, silently communicating a secret known only to them. A slow smile unfurled on Alba’s lips. “I do nae believe ye bad. Ye helped me return to myself.”

“And ye saved my brother,” Isla added softly.

“We owe ye,” Alba murmured, eyes moist.

“And ye owe Allan,” Isla said.

“If ye could somehow free him.” Alba’s voice cracked.

“I can,” I vowed, chest warm with fierce conviction. “I vow it.”

“Ross intends to leave in the morning to go to yer home and give his life for Allan’s freedom.”

I recoiled at the news. “Ramsey will kill them both!” I cried out.

“Aye, but what choice does Ross have? He can nae trade ye for Allan. Yer stepbrother did nae want Breeda. And if Ross attacks yer home, yer stepbrother will definitely kill Allan. If he bends the knee, he will likely kill all our warriors or make their lives living torture. If he does nae bend the knee, if he and Allan are both killed, Thor will lead the clan to war against yer brother, and our clan will have a chance of survival.”

I gripped the bars, my heart pounding and my stomach in a thousand knots. “I am the better choice. Free me,” I begged. “I will make my way to my home tonight and free Allan. Nae anyone will be the wiser before it’s done.”

“Ye think me a clot-heid?” she demanded, eyes narrowing. “To allow ye to go back to yer stepbrother with yer mind-reading ability?”

My chest burned with resolve. “Ye ken I’ll nae aid him. He killed my da, my brother, and my uncle. I despise him! I will nae ever read minds for him. I’d rather be dead!”

I caught Alba and Isla exchange a satisfied look, and my lips parted in shock. “This was a test?”

“Aye,” they said in unison.

“Ross is nae thinking straight because he loves ye,” Alba said.

“Nay.” I shook my head, refusing to allow hope. “He hates me.”

“Aye,” Alba agreed. “Love and hate are nae mutually exclusive, Ar—Elena. He hates ye with such passion now because his love for ye is all-consuming. ’Tis why he refuses to see that ye can aid us.”

“Ye tried to convince him of such?” I asked, surprised.

“Aye. I was shocked to discover who ye were and what ye had done. Ross told me of seeing ye send a message via a pigeon to yer stepbrother, but then I thought about the timing. When ye sent the missive to yer stepbrother, it was before ye had proof of the truth, when ye still had doubt. I’d have done the same if I were ye. ”

Alba produced a key and used it to unlock the cell. I stepped onto the cold stone as the cell door opened, every nerve alight with relief and fear. I want to embrace them both—sisters now, friends—but my arms fell to my sides.

Isla handed me her dark cloak. “Put this on and pull it over yer head. Tell the guards at the gate ye are me. They’ll nae question ye, as ye ken well I go to other clans to deliver bairns frequently. We’ve left a horse tethered in the woods for ye.”

“Thank ye,” I said, my insides feeling like singed parchment.

Alba wiped away her tears. “If ye save my brother, I urge ye to come back with him and fight for Ross. But if ye do nae…” She let the words hang.

I nodded, gratitude and sorrow warring in my chest. It was too late for Ross and me.