Page 35

K eira didn’t struggle. There was no point. Hudson didn’t push her either, at least not as much as he would push a woman accused of killing the Laird. He was still gentle with her and let her lead the way as much as he possibly could. To a point, he was still her man-at-arms anyway.

“I reckon ye were right yesterday at the wedding, were ye nae?” she asked, refusing to slow down.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he continued to follow her, his speed slow and his voice gentle.

“I dinnae ken,” he responded.

“When ye asked me to leave while I still can. One might think ye were some kind of soothsayer. As if ye kenned this would happen.”

Hudson remained silent, and for some reason, his lack of response pulled harder at her heartstrings.

“This was never supposed to happen to ye,” he eventually said, still maintaining the same quiet and gentle tone.

They descended the stairs, their footsteps quickening. Keira was completely out of it at this point. All she wanted now was a moment to sit down somewhere quiet and think about Evander.

A pang of grief hit her. If the dungeons could provide that, then so be it. There was little to nothing she could do about her reputation now. If Stella was right, she was doomed either way.

The dungeons came into view—a large cavern underneath the castle, with wooden gates secured by a giant metal padlock. Hudson followed right behind her and halted once they both got in front of the gates. He moved forward and inserted the key in the padlock. It clicked, and he pushed the gates open.

A tense silence descended between them, one Keira used to study the gates, Hudson himself, and the direction they had come from.

“Ye ken I didnae do it, right? Ye ken I didnae kill Evander?”

Hudson said nothing, and Keira waited for the better half of a minute.

When she realized nothing would come forth, she moved closer to the gates anyway. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked into the cell. He pulled the gates shut and turned the key in the padlock once again, each sound a deafening resolution in her heart.

“I ken ye did nothing wrong,” he allowed, taking out the key and slipping it into his pocket.

Keira stared at him, her throat bobbing. It was a great relief for her to know that at least there were still a few people who believed her.

“But if it wasnae me, it would’ve been someone else,” Hudson continued.

With those words, he turned around and retreated the way they had come from. Keira watched him go, and once he had disappeared, tears welled up in her eyes once again. She slid down to the floor, suffocating, despair and sadness finally taking over her body.

He was dead.

Evander was dead, and somehow people believed she had done something to him. She couldn’t love him. Theirs was a marriage of convenience, after all. So why did his death hurt her way more than the fact that people thought she had caused it?

Evander’s eyes snapped open, and the bright sunlight immediately assaulted him. He squeezed his eyes shut, raising a hand to block out the harsh rays. A dull, lingering ache shot through his body as he slowly lowered his hand.

“Good Lord,” came a distinct voice. One Evander was not able to place until its owner came into view.

Lesley.

“Ye’re awake,” she stated, the surprise in her voice evident. As if she wasn’t expecting him to wake up ever again.

His eyes swept over the room he was in—the apothecary. He was directly facing the window, and rays of the bright afternoon sun shone directly on him. He raised his hand again, a low groan escaping his lips as his eyes adjusted to the harsh light.

“Apologies, M’Laird. I shall move ye now,” Lesley whispered.

Then, he felt movement. The platform on which he lay suddenly jolted, and soon he was wheeled into the shade. A distinct coolness enveloped his body as his hands dropped to his sides.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then realized the words wouldn’t come out. He strained further, only for a choked croak to escape his throat.

“Try nae to speak for now. ‘Tis better for ye, M’Laird.”

Evander tried speaking again, but the words wouldn’t come out. He was determined. He wouldn’t let the weakness stop him. He had to push further. So he did.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Yer heart failed, M’Laird,” Lesley answered calmly, as if it was not something to be alarmed about. “And we thought for a minute that ye were gone.”

Evander swallowed. Heart failure sounded like something he couldn’t get behind as a cause of death. He wanted to die in battle right in the middle of the field. He wanted to be remembered for his bravery and determination, not a heart attack.

The thought terrified him, but he tried hard to shove it down.

“But it’s nae failing anymore?”

“Nay.” Lesley nodded. “I have given ye the antidote. I must be honest with ye; I didnae think it would work.”

“Ah,” Evander muttered.

That would explain her surprise when he woke up.

He looked around the apothecary, wondering where she was and why she hadn’t come rushing in. His heart rate quickened. Was she in danger? Did she suffer heart failure too?

“Where is she?”

Lesley narrowed her eyes. She knew who he was talking about. Of course, she did.

“M’Laird, I would advise that ye take the time to rest because the antidote needs yer rest to?—”

“Where is Keira?” Evander asked again, his voice clearer than before and laced with something that seemed to say he didn’t want to repeat himself a third time.

As Lesley opened her mouth to speak, the door creaked open. They both turned their heads in that direction, Evander more expectant, hoping to see his wife step inside.

She did not.

His face fell as Arthur walked into the room, stark relief etched on his face.

“I kenned the heart failure wasnae going to get ye, ye stubborn bastard,” Arthur grunted.

He made a rough sound in the back of his throat as he moved closer and drew Evander into a hug—at least as much as his supine body would allow.

“I told the others to stay back, ye dinnae need all of us fussing over ye right now.”

He broke the hug and stared at his friend, his green eye dancing with happiness and gratitude. In another world, in another time where the situation was not urgent, Evander would have cared. But for now, he didn’t.

“Arthur, where is me wife?” he pressed.

Arthur’s eyes darted from Evander to Lesley, his brow furrowed his confusion.

“Ye havenae told him yet?” he asked, an unusual edge to his voice.

Lesley shook her head.

“Told me what?” Evander interjected, the wariness in his voice growing with each word.

Arthur cleared his throat. “She’s in the dungeons. She was imprisoned, because… Well, she was accused of killing ye.”

Evander’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Now, ye just woke up, Evander. Ye’re still weak. Perhaps when ye’re properly awake, we can discuss?—”

The remainder of those words fell on deaf ears. Perhaps it was the thought of Keira being in danger. Perhaps it was because he had been awake long enough, but Evander didn’t know where the strength came from. He rose from the platform and lowered his feet to the floor.

“Evander, what are ye doing?” Arthur protested.

“M’Laird.” The concern in Lesley’s voice was evident.

Evander ignored it.

He ignored all of it and stepped across the cold floor, the coarse stone scraping the soles of his feet. He didn’t bother asking for shoes. Then, he broke out into a run. Out of the apothecary, out of the wing, and across the halls.

His bare feet skidded over the soft earth, his arms whipping back and forth as he continued to run down the stairs and even more stairs.

This was not happening.

This was definitely not happening.

He flew down a third set of stairs and felt the cold air hit him as soon as he stepped foot in the underbelly of the castle.

He found her there, slumped against one of the walls in her cell, her head hanging down in resignation.

A curse escaped his lips at the sight. Her head snapped up, and their gazes met. Her eyes widened, and she rose from the floor, a weak smile spreading across her tear-streaked face.

“Ye’re alive!” she cried.

Evander moved closer to the gates and tried to pry them open.

“They’re locked,” Keira murmured.

Evander’s eyes settled on the giant padlock that straddled the gates. Then, he looked around the open space, his eyes searching for something he could use to?—

He spotted a big rock a few yards behind him. He hurried to it, grabbed it, and returned to the gates.

“Stand back,” he urged, his voice soft.

He slammed the rock as hard as he could against the padlock. The rock crashed against the metal, and a chunk fell to the floor. The lock was still secure.

He swung again and slammed the rest of the rock against the lock. It only budged a little. Evander dropped the rock and reached for the padlock. Then, he pulled at it as hard as he could.

“Evander,” Keira murmured, the concern in her voice obvious.

Evander didn’t respond. Instead, he tugged at the padlock even harder, trying to yank it off the shackle.

Then, it gave way.

He pulled out the entire contraption and flung it to the side, then yanked the door open. Keira stepped out, and he pulled her into a hug. The scent of her bathing oils mixed surprisingly pleasantly with the musty smell of the damp dungeon walls.

“Are ye all right? Did they hurt ye?”

Keira let out a wet laugh, tears welling up in her eyes. “Ye’re alive. That is all I’m concerned about.”

“What have they done to ye?” Evander whispered. “Give me names. I promise ye, nae a single one of them will go unpunished.”

Keira wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. Their foreheads touched, and she held still for a while, tears streaming down her face.

“Ye have nay idea how relieved I am. I thought I’d been cursed. I thought I’d somehow managed to kill ye with this curse I have, like I killed Fletcher.”

Evander reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. “Ye didnae kill Fletcher,” he whispered. “And ye cannae get rid of me that easily, even if ye try.”

Keira wiped the tears from her eyes and let him examine her. She knew at that point, from the anger and redness in his eyes, that there better not be a hair out of place on her head, or else she wouldn’t be able to control what he would do next.

And neither would he.

“Let us go. We have spent enough time in this place,” Evander urged.

He reached for her hand once more and held onto it as tight as his weak body would allow him. Keira followed silently behind him as he led her out of the dungeons. She felt as if she was leaving doubt and captivity behind.

“We must clarify as soon as possible that ye didnae kill me,” Evander muttered, pulling her up the stairs, his hand still wrapped tightly around hers.