Page 19 of The Lost Highland Prince (The Last Celtic King #1)

18

Chapter Eighteen

Maeve found Cailean at the same little spot by the river where he'd brought her after training. He was staring out into the distance and didn't even seem to notice her approach, but when she sat down next to him, he spoke immediately.

"Go away, Maeve. Go and get that arm seen tae and get some rest."

Maeve frowned at the dismissal. "I have questions for ye," she said. "Many of them."

"Are ye the one in position tae be askin' questions?" he asked her harshly, then sighed, obviously regretting his tone in an instant. He shook his head and said, "Please, just go."

"What happened back there?" she pressed. "Why did they listen tae ye? Why were ye so sharp? Why?—"

"Maeve," Cailean interrupted, turning to her with annoyance in his eyes and voice now. "Have we nae had enough for the night? Is it nae time tae let it go?"

"Have we nae had enough secrets between us?" Maeve snapped back, riled up by his tone despite everything. "Dinnae ye think it's best we're honest with each other from now on?"

Frustration shot across Cailean's face as he turned to look at her. "What exactly is it ye want tae ken?" he demanded.

So many things. She wanted to know so many things. There were so many secrets still between them; she could taste them in the air. What was the pin? Why did the elders listen to Cailean so well? Who was he really? But when she opened her mouth, what she blurted out was, "What is yer problem with Kier's plan? I think usin' me knowledge?—"

Cailean groaned. "Dinnae do this."

"No, really," she pressed. "What possible reason could ye have for not wantin' tae win back such a valuable asset as Darach Castle — Bruce Castle, by rights? The Darachs will ken their men are dead soon enough, and they'll ken I didnae do it alone. They'll come lookin', and we'll all have tae move again, and the people of Broken Windmill might be in danger. Dinnae ye think it would be better tae pre-emptively strike with?—"

"Maeve," Cailean said through gritted teeth. "I'm tellin' ye now tae drop it." His expression was strange, not just anger and frustration, but an undercurrent of fear, too. It was almost unrecognizable, almost hidden entirely, but not from Maeve. She knew fear too well not to know it when she saw it.

She almost backed down, but her passions had risen too high to suddenly stop now. She needed to know. "But I can help. I can make meself useful if ye'll just let me. Me sister is there, lost, with naebody there tae help her. How can we do nothin'? Tae not act when ye've been given such an opportunity seems cowardly…"

She trailed off as rage flashed across Cailean's eyes. She realized in an instant she'd gone too far.

"Ye'll accuse me of cowardice?" he asked in a soft, deadly tone. "Me? I'll accept many things, many insults, many complaints, but I willnae be called a coward. Nae after everythin'."

"I didnae mean…"

But Cailean got to his feet. Something about him seemed to change in that instant, and he started pacing back and forth, the night winds ruffling his hair as he did. His gray eyes glinted in the moonlight, and Maeve was reminded of the dark fae warriors from stories long ago, and she found herself shrinking back — not out of a sense of immediate danger for herself, but from a different, more primitive kind of fear.

"Ye want tae ken the truth? I'll give ye the truth, then, for all ye can handle it. I've lost everyone. Everyone , dae ye understand that? Ye think ye're the only one who's ever feared for a sister? I had brothers and sisters too, once. They're gone, slaughtered in their beds as bairns, or else burned as me home crumbled around us. Me mother and father, killed and displayed in the most brutal way. Me entire clan, decimated while I was just a bairn who could do nothin'. I dream every night of the fire and the blood, kennin' there was nothin' left tae return tae even then."

Maeve stared, wide-eyed, at this torrent of emotion, the stoicism gone as Cailean spilled out the raw, vulnerable truth at last.

"These rebels are all I have left. Ye're all I have left, because ye're one of us, Maeve, nae matter what. I willnae risk everythin'. I cannae lose everythin' again. I cannae watch me family die before me eyes and dae nothin' about it. Nae again." He balled his hand into a fist and slammed it against a tree. "I'm nae fightin' tae win. I'm fightin' tae survive. There's nae winnin' against a monster who already took everythin'."

He fell silent, but the night air around them suddenly felt loud. The bugs chirped in the grass, the water bubbled as it ran by, and Maeve swore she could hear her own heartbeat hammering in her chest. Somewhere deep in the woods, a bird called, and Maeve's mind traveled back to the blacksmith and the symbol on a golden pin. A symbol of secrets.

"I'm… I'm nae the only one who lied about me name, am I?" Maeve asked after a moment.

"I didnae lie," he grunted. "McManus was me mother's surname before she wed. It's as much me own name as the one I was born with."

"But ye didnae tell the truth. Nae tae anyone." She stared at him in wonder, barely able to believe it as the truth came crashing down around her ears. She'd been staring it straight in the face for so long that it felt almost impossible that she hadn't realized it until now. "The night he found me, Senan said the prince was alive. That he kent it for sure. Even that he kent him personally."

"Senan talks too much."

Maeve chewed on her lip. "The capercaillie is the symbol of the McNair clan, isnae it? It's the symbol of the true king."

Cailean wouldn't meet her eyes. "It was the symbol of the McNairs. They're all gone now. Barry and Graham were the ones who were meant tae carry it on. Abigail and Neala would have married and made the family grow."

"They're nae all gone. One survived." Maeve got to her feet too, and, hesitating, she put a hand out and touched his arm. He stiffened, but didn't pull away. " Ye survived. That's who ye are. Cailean McNair, the True King."

"I'm nae king," he told her in a strangled voice. The indirect admission made a cold shiver run down Maeve's spine. It was true. It was all true. She could barely believe it, and yet… yet at the same time, it made more sense than anything.

"Cailean…"

"Bein' a king was never me role. That was never who I was meant tae be. Me brothers were the ones who might have been. And anyway, what would I be now? King of smoke? King of ash?"

The grief in his voice was poignant and it hurt Maeve's heart. She could see the agony in his expression and hear it in his tone, but more than that, she could feel it radiating around him. She now understood the fear he felt, how much it must make him struggle to consider risking the lives of those who fought with him, but it didn't seem like enough. She had grown to know Cailean, even care about him, and she honestly could not reconcile the man she respected with someone who would shy away from his destiny.

"Ye're more than that. Think of the way that the blacksmith reacted tae ye. Think of that woman on the farm. They kent ye, didnae they? They believed in ye. And all these rebels here… does anyone ken who ye are?" Maeve still couldn't make him meet her eyes. "The elders do, that much is clear. Is that why they listen tae ye?"

"I've told them many times that they shouldnae. I'm just another warrior, just another rebel."

Maeve shook her head. "But ye're nae. Dae ye think any other rebel would have stood up tae them like that? Dae ye think anyone else would have thought they had the right tae tell the four elders no when they were all in agreement with a plan?"

Cailean didn't answer.

"Darren kens who ye are, I bet. Does anyone else?"

"A few people," Cailean replied reluctantly. "Nae many. Dinnae repeat anythin' ye've heard here tonight, Maeve. I mean it. After all, there's nothin' tae ken."

"Are ye kiddin'?" Maeve demanded. "All the rebels are here because they believe in the True King. They believe in ye ."

"They believe in a free Scotland. They believe in overthrowin' the False King. But they dinnae believe in me. They think I'm dead. They dinnae need me as their leader."

"Ye're already their leader," Maeve shot back, a little frustrated now. "Do ye nae see the way we listen tae ye on the trainin' grounds? Do ye nae hear the way they talk about ye? And nae just the warriors — the cooks, the healers, everybody. Dinnae ye think it'll rally them tae ken that the king they've been longin' for this whole time is actually walkin' among us?"

Cailean shook his head. He was facing her now, but his lips were tight and his expression was drawn. "I willnae reveal meself, because I willnae make a claim tae the throne. Nae now, and perhaps nae ever."

"But why wouldnae ye do so?" Maeve demanded. "Why would ye not wish tae?—"

"Because we already live dangerous enough lives, Maeve!" Cailean finally met her eyes, and the expression behind his was tortured. "We're already traitors in the eyes of the crown, already men and women who should be exterminated on sight accordin' tae the folk who hold all the power. Do ye really think I want tae put me own ego in front of keepin' an even bigger target from me friends' backs?"

Maeve couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Are ye serious right now?" she demanded. "None of us are here for a safe life, and ye ken it. We each have dedicated our lives tae this cause, me included. Dinnae ye think it's an insult tae keep the truth from us?"

"Comin' from ye?" Cailean asked, his eyebrow raised. "Ye dinnae understand. If I told them who I was, everythin' would change. They'd expect me tae be their leader, tae wage an outright war that I dinnae think we can win. I willnae lead me men and women intae mindless slaughter for the sake of a title that was robbed from me a long, long time ago. I willnae let the last part of the McNair legacy be death and sacrifice in me name. I willnae allow needless bloodshed just for my sake."

Maeve could almost understand where he was coming from, but she couldn't quite reconcile it all in her mind. How could Cailean stand here with the birthright that so many people believed in and turn away from it? How could he not understand the immense power that would come from accepting both the truth and the responsibility that would come with it? Did he not understand what was at stake? Their lives, sure — but also the lives of the people, just like the villagers here in Broken Windmill, and the hearts and souls that surrounded them. The beating heart of Scotland, oppressed under the rule of the False King, needed Cailean to take on the mantle that had been waiting for him for twenty years.

"We're already dyin'," she said quietly. "We're already fightin' and bleedin'. Knowingly. Willingly. Not just this group of rebels, but pockets all over Scotland, already layin' down their lives for the shadow of hope, the ghost of a prince who they ken may only exist in their hearts and minds. Would it nae be a powerful statement tae stand up and show them that the prince is real? That there really is a figure that they're fightin' for?"

"I dinnae want people tae fight for me," Cailean replied. "I just want them tae live."

"But they fight already!"

"Tae live!" Cailean countered. "They fight tae survive! If I come along and make claims of grandeur, they'll fight tae win, and that means they'll fight tae die. I willnae allow the people I care for tae needlessly lose their lives."

"How is it needless?" Maeve threw her hands in the air, exasperated. "We have the chance tae put men like Kyle Darach, men like me father, out of their positions. Tae restore Kier's family home and seat, or open up supplies and bring food and joy tae villages like this one once again. Are they nae things worth layin' down our lives for?"

"Worth layin' down me own life for? Aye," Cailean replied. "But I'll never lay down everyone else's." His voice broke at the end, and he looked away. "It's time tae drop the subject."

"How can I drop this now that I ken the truth?" Maeve asked. She felt herself growing deeply upset in her chest, like something was fundamentally wrong and she didn't know what to do about it. It had been the longest day of her life, with so many different events, but this moment was the one that felt like it was going to break her. There was a deep disappointment within her at how Cailean was reacting to this.

"Ye love this country," she told him quietly. "I can hear it in yer words, see it in the way ye act. Ye ken yer duty and ye're nae the type tae shy away from it. How can ye let fear of loss turn ye away from somethin' so important?"

"Ye ken nothin' of duty," he said irritably.

" I dinnae? Ye think I married Malcolm Darach for fun, do ye?" Maeve folded her arms. "We all have our hardships tae bear. Ye, though, have the chance tae make a difference. How can ye turn away from it?"

Cailean scowled. "Enough. Enough." He turned away from her. "I'm goin' tae me hut and I'm goin' tae sleep. Ye should do the same."

"Wait, Cailean…"

But he pushed past her and stormed off, the irritation and confusion emanating from him so strongly that it seemed to linger in his wake. Maeve stood there by the river, the shadow of the broken windmill in the distance, and she'd never felt so alone.

* * *

Cailean returned to his sleeping hut and found Darren there, sitting awake and waiting for him.

"Ye want tae talk about it?" Darren asked as soon as Cailean entered. He was sitting on his bed, watching his friend with an unusually intense expression on his usually playful face. "Ferda filled me in on all the rest."

Cailean appreciated what his friend was doing, but the last thing he wanted to do now was talk more. It had been too much today, too many twists and turns that he just couldn't handle. This morning he'd woken up ready to face and explore unexpected feelings that had bubbled to the surface, and now a whole slew of very different feelings had taken over, and he had no idea what was going on inside his heart and head.

"I dinnae want tae talk," he said roughly.

Darren nodded slowly. "So she was Darach's bride, eh? Poor lass. God only kens what she went through. It's a hard thing, yer duty takin' away yer happiness."

"Ye're nae bein' as subtle as ye think ye are," Cailean told him, disappearing behind their partition to wash and change. "I already said I dinnae want tae talk."

"Aye, but I do," Darren told him. "Did me da suggest we use her tae our advantage? Is that what's got ye so riled up?"

Cailean washed his face in the basin, not answering. He could still hear Maeve's accusation and disbelief in his mind, and he didn't want to think about it. He felt so torn, so split in two, trying to choose between what was right for his family and what was right for the country. It was a hopeless burden, and one he didn't know how to bear alone, yet also one he knew that he couldn't share with anyone else.

"All right, all right. I willnae push," Darren said after a moment. "But ye'll need tae talk tae me eventually." He was silent for a long time, and only when Cailean exited from behind the partition did he speak again. "But I will say one more thing."

"Of course ye will," Cailean replied with a groan, laying back on his bed. "Can ye nae just go tae sleep?"

"One thing, I swear. It's about Maeve. Bonny name that, by the way. Suits her better than Mary."

"I dinnae want tae talk about Maeve," Cailean told him sharply. "Nor about what yer da wants, nor about anythin'. I just want tae sleep."

"Do ye think when ye go tae sleep it'll make it go away?" Darren asked quietly. He blew out the candle that was flickering on the makeshift table at the side of the bed and the hut plunged into darkness. "I dinnae."

"I cannae possibly ken until I've tried it," Cailean told him grumpily. "Nae more talkin'. Goodnight."

Darren let out a long sigh, but he didn't speak again, much to Cailean's relief. Cailean closed his eyes, but rest did not come. Images swirled in his brain; dead men in the woods, reverence in the eyes of a blacksmith, the awe in the voice of an old woman. He groaned, turning on his side, and heard Maeve's voice in his ear, accusing him, pleading with him, knowing him more than he'd ever wanted to be known.

He tossed and turned for hours, his mind rebelling despite his body's exhaustion. And when sleep finally came, it brought with it dreams of smoke and blood.