Page 6 of The Lost Highland Prince (The Last Celtic King #1)

5

Chapter Five

They set out right away, stopping only to gather a few of Maeve's things and take some money from Bill's stash. It was tempting to steal the lot — he certainly deserved it — but Maeve didn't take a penny more than she was owed for the two months of work she'd done so far. Her mare from when she arrived two months ago was still kept in the stables, and Maeve felt no shame in 'stealing' her back. After all, Ann had given the horse to Maeve, not to Bill. Senan had a horse of his own, and the two of them were mounted and riding out before half an hour had passed since the incident.

As the inn disappeared into the night behind them, Maeve glanced over her shoulder and sighed.

"Havin' regrets?" Senan asked her. "It's not too late if ye want tae stop. I can help ye find somewhere else in the village tae live and work, or another village if ye prefer."

Maeve shook her head. "It isnae that. I'm wonderin' about Bill. Ye say he'll live, but… what of the next servin' girl? What if…?"

Senan's expression was impossible to see in the darkness, but when he spoke, he sounded pleased by what she'd said. "Lesson one, lass. A true warrior kills without hesitatin' when it's necessary, but we dinnae take lives when we dinnae have tae. That tavern keeper is scum, it's true, but it might be he learns a lesson from the beatin' I gave him this night. Certainly, he willnae be botherin' any lassies while his broken bones heal."

Maeve thought about this for a moment. Bill was disgusting, but this was the first time he'd tried to touch her. After the retribution he'd received, it was easy to believe it would be the last time he attempted such a thing again, because, thanks to Senan, he'd always be paranoid about who was watching.

She didn't want to think about this anymore. "Is that what I'm tae be, then? A warrior?" she asked. She rather liked the sound of it, if she was honest. The ability to stand up for herself, to protect her own life and even those of others… it felt intoxicating to consider. But was this something she was really capable of?

"First what ye're tae be is rested," Senan told her. "I can hear the exhaustion in yer voice, lass, and ye'll feel it again too once the adrenaline wears off. We'll ride an hour then set up camp, and there I'll answer any questions ye might have. Then, if ye decide ye dinnae want tae continue with this old man, I'll help ye find somewhere tae start afresh."

* * *

They did indeed set up camp an hour later, but Maeve didn't ask questions. Instead, she fell into a deep sleep. When she woke again, the sun was high in the sky above her, and Senan was nowhere to be seen. For a second, she panicked, wondering what would become of her now, but he soon appeared again, carrying with him a loaf of bread and some cheese.

Maeve accepted the offered food gratefully, and the two of them sat to eat. Senan didn't say anything, and Maeve realized that he was giving her room to ask or tell as much or as little as she liked. It was a strange feeling, realizing how much he was offering her respect, and even though it was a small thing, it made her almost cry with gratitude. Except for Eoin, no man had ever made her feel like he was interested in how she felt before.

But her heart felt frozen. She was still shaken from the attack the night before, and all the trauma that had happened to her throughout her life was bubbling just under the surface. Though there was much she wanted to know and indeed needed to know if she were to continue traveling with Senan, she didn't know where to start. A small part of her worried that if she asked the wrong question or gave the wrong answer, it would all be over.

At last, she blurted out the first thing that came into her mind. "The sun is too high in the sky. I must have slept the whole mornin'."

Senan laughed. "I could tell ye were tired, Mary. I thought it best tae let ye sleep before we start on the long road ahead."

Maeve had been going by Mary for two months now, but for the first time, it made her uncomfortable to hear it. Lying about who she was to Senan felt different from lying to Bill. But she didn't make any move to correct him or clear up the misunderstanding. After all, the Darachs would still be looking for her, and she certainly couldn't risk being found.

"Where are we goin'?" she asked eventually, once she'd eaten a few slices of bread and some of the cheese.

"North," Senan answered immediately. He picked up a stick and sketched a quick outline in the ground, and Maeve realized she was seeing a rough sketch of her beloved country before her. He made a cross on the map roughly where they were, then traced the stick all the way up, farther than Maeve had ever considered traveling before. "Here's where we were last based. I suppose they'll have moved on by now, but we'll find them."

"They?" Maeve ventured.

Senan's dark eyes gleamed. "The rebel group. The brave men and women who're fightin' tae bring our home back tae how it's supposed tae be. Me people. Our people, if ye'll have them."

Maeve blinked at the sudden intense passion in his voice. A rebel group? She remembered his rambling from the night before about the McNair prince and the False King. At only twenty-one, she had no memory of a time before the current line was in charge of Scotland, but she knew that it felt wrong as it was. A true king would never ally with the Darachs, never treat people like she knew the people were being treated. She'd heard whispers and rumors about the usurped McNairs, but as far as she knew, they were all dead and gone, wiped out when Maeve was still a babe in arms.

They were silent for a few minutes while they finished their meals. Maeve considered all the things she could ask, but there was just too much. So instead, she settled on something solid, something she needed to know for sure.

"Ye werenae even a wee bit drunk last night, were ye?" she asked.

Senan laughed long and loud at that. "Ha! No, I wasnae drunk. I hadnae so much as had a sip of ale or mead the whole night. I like tae keep me wits about me when I'm workin'."

"Workin'?"

He smiled. "Aye. Recruitin', and gatherin' information. Ye can hear things much better as a lousy drunkard than ye can as a man like me. Naebody pays attention tae a word from yer mouth, and naebody watches the words that come from their own."

Maeve considered this. "Clever," she said. "I thought ye just a brave fighter, but it seems ye've a craftiness about ye as well. Should I be afraid?"

Senan shrugged. "A smart person is always a wee bit afraid. It's what gives us the power tae overcome," he replied. "But dinnae act so impressed. Ye were usin' the same trick as me. How many times did ye wipe that same table as ye eavesdropped?"

Maeve felt her cheeks grow a little pink at that, but her lips twitched upward into a smile. Something about the twinkle in Senan's eye made her feel far less guilty about being caught. "Was I so obvious?"

"That isnae it. Actually, ye were so subtle I'd have missed it if I wasnae lookin' for it. It's one of the main reasons I thought I'd invite ye along; ye've obviously got the brains to be a true asset tae the rebellion."

The rebellion. Was that what she wanted? Maeve thought about it hard, and she realized that yes, it was. She'd been longing to fight back for so long; fight back against everything that had ever caused her pain. Against the men who'd hurt her. Against the royalty who had empowered them. She would be free, and she'd make sure her country was as well.

"Do ye ken him?" she asked. "The McNair prince? Is he really alive?"

"Alive and well, last I checked, though it's been some time since I laid eyes on him," Senan replied. "He's only a few years yer senior. Ye both need some trainin', I'd say, but when ye've got it, ye'll both be formidable in yer own ways."

Formidable. The very sound of the word made her feel powerful. Could that ever be said about her? Maeve wasn't sure, but she was willing to do anything it took in order to find out.

* * *

The next day, they stopped at a clear spot in the forest and Senan said, "Hit me."

"What?" Maeve stopped chewing on the apple she had plucked from a tree nearby.

"Hit me," Senan repeated, spreading his arms wide. "I want tae see the power ye've got."

"Do it, lass!" Senan commanded.

Maeve knew an order when she heard it. She put the apple down on top of her coat and turned to face Senan. Taking a breath, she balled her hand into a fist and swung at him. Her fist connected with his chest, but he didn't even flinch.

"Nae strength," he said, shaking his head. Then, in a flash, his own arm swung up toward her. Without even thinking, Maeve ducked, avoiding the blow, and she darted out of the way. Senan pressed his attack, but Maeve rolled out of the way and stuck out her foot. His weight overbalanced on her leg and he tripped, falling to the ground.

Maeve stood back, breathing heavily. "Ye could have hurt me!" she protested.

Senan sat up from his fall and started to laugh. "I wouldnae have hit ye. I was pullin' me punches. But ye reacted well."

"What?"

"Ye've nae strength, but ye're fast and quick-witted. Aye, I went easy, but ye didnae ken that, and ye managed tae defend yerself. Ye'll do well if ye use those skills tae yer advantage," Senan told her. He gave her a proud smile, and Maeve felt flustered, unsure how she was supposed to feel in response. "Now we just have tae build up yer strength and yer discipline."

Maeve held out a hand and Senan took it, allowing her to help him to his feet. "How will I do that?" she asked. "Are ye gonnae train me? Do ye think it'll be enough?"

"That depends on ye," Senan told her seriously. "I can teach ye everythin' that I ken. I can help ye build yer muscles and hone yer knowledge. But what we do is up tae ye. If there's anythin' ye're nae comfortable with, we willnae fight. If ye change yer mind, we'll stop. If we get halfway north and ye find ye want a different life?—"

"I want tae learn," Maeve said immediately. "It doesnae matter if it hurts. It doesnae matter if ye bruise me or break me. I'll come out of it stronger, faster, better. And I'll never let anyone hurt me again."

Senan nodded approvingly. "Then we start now."

* * *

The next weeks were exhausting, repetitive and painful, but also exhilarating. They woke up every morning long before the sun rose and set off traveling on their horses, winding further and further north. Then they'd stop and eat some of their rations, or occasionally pause at a tavern or inn to eat, restock, and gather information. After that, they'd find a clear spot in the forest or high up on the hills and begin their training.

For the first week, all Maeve did was exercise on her own. Senan made her run laps, press up off the ground with her arms, and practice punching against the trees. The second week, they graduated to sparring together, with Maeve dodging and weaving Senan's attacks while she increasingly improved on her own. On the third week, he gave her a practice sword and started to teach her different moves and positions, and by the start of the fourth week, when they were almost at the spot where Senan had left his camp, they were combining all of the training into one, with Senan randomly demanding switches in an instant.

Maeve was black and blue, exhausted, sore, and some days so frustrated with her progress that she wanted to cry. But Senan was the best kind of teacher; he was gentle with his words and always made sure she was comfortable before they moved on to the next activity, and he offered praise when she did well and only positive suggestions when she made mistakes.

It was the last morning that they'd be traveling, according to Senan; they'd reach the village before the morning was over. Maeve and Senan both rode slowly, side by side with one another, talking as they went.

"Do ye think the other rebels will accept me?" Maeve asked him as they guided their horses along a winding path down a large hill. "As I am?"

"Yer trainin' is comin' along well, Mary," Senan reassured her. "Aye, ye've a way tae go, but ye're far from the weakest recruit we've ever had. Dinnae worry about such things."

"I'm nae worried about that. I'm worried about the fact that I'm a woman. After all, in me life… well, let's just say that's never been an advantage for me." She tried to play it off as a lighthearted joke, but she was sure that Senan noticed the bitterness that crept in at her words.

If he did, though, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he simply shrugged and said, "We have many women in the rebellion."

"Ye mean the White Sparrows?" Maeve asked. She'd told Senan a few days before that her life had been saved by one of the Sparrows, but she'd stayed vague about exactly how that had happened, and Senan hadn't pressed. He had confirmed, though, that the two rebellious groups worked closely together.

"Aye, but nae just among them. Most of the Sparrows are women, but they've a few men in their ranks. In the same way, most of our army is made of men, but there are plenty of women involved as well. They're spies and scouts and informants, aye, but many are also warriors in their own right. If that's what ye want for yerself, Maeve, then that's what ye'll have." Senan smiled. "And I'm sure ye'll be popular amongst them."

"Popular? What do ye mean?"

Senan chuckled. "Ye're charmin' and hardworkin'. Not tae mention ye're a bonny lass. People will be drawn tae ye, mark me words."

Though it was meant as a compliment, his words left a bad taste in Maeve's mouth. She knew that she was pretty, as he said, but it was honestly the last thing she wanted him to acknowledge about her. Her physical appearance was why her younger sister had always been so jealous of her, and why Malcolm Darach had chosen her to be his wife despite her being the middle child. It was what had made those guards in the prison think they had a right to say such horrible things, and what had tempted the disgusting attentions of Bill at the tavern.

None of those things were her fault, she knew that; the men in each case were the ones to be blamed every time. But regardless of that, Maeve did not want to think about being bonny. She just wanted to be free.

They reached the village a short time later, only to find that the rebel camp had moved on months before. Senan did not seem concerned or worried about this, so Maeve did not worry either.

"The redcoats raided," a young man explained. He had a patch over one eye and his arm around a woman who looked to be in the first stages of pregnancy. "They told those of us who were injured tae stay behind tae be safe. By the time they came back for us…"

Senan nodded. "Ye're wed, then, Donnie? Good for ye, lad. Stay here and keep yer wife and bairn safe, heal from yer injuries, and when ye're needed, we ken where tae find ye."

The young man, Donnie, smiled and nodded. He moved forward and Maeve noticed he had a noticeable limp. "If there's anythin' I can do, anythin' at all, then I'll be by me king's side in an instant."

The intensity in his voice made Maeve's heart flutter. This man believed in the McNair prince — the king , as he called him — with all of his being. Was this the heart of the rebellion? If it was, then Maeve could believe that one day they might even win.

"For now, just tell us where tae go," Senan said, patting Donnie's shoulder. "And stay loyal, lad."

They set out an hour later with instructions and a few supplies. It would be a few more days, Senan explained, before they reached the new location where the rebels were hiding.

"Ye ken what that means?" he asked her as their horses picked up the pace.

Maeve grinned. "More bruises tae be earned. But watch out, Senan, because they willnae all be mine."

Senan gave her a fierce smile in response. "I'm countin' on it."