Page 17 of The Rightful Highland King (The Last Celtic King #4)

Chapter Ten

Nessa clung to Darren's back as they rode through the gates of McNair Castle, too overwhelmed by the sight before her to even feel embarrassed by what she was doing.

The castle was beautiful, clearly undergoing renovations under the control of the rebels, and the capercaillie banner hung from the walls.

Nessa had been raised to fear and disdain that symbol, and to cheer whenever it was crushed underfoot.

Now she knew the truth. The McNairs had returned, not through a pretender but for real, and they were waging war against everything she ever knew. And now she was their prisoner.

"Nae that I'm complainin' about the embrace, but ye're clingin' on a wee bit tight," Darren told her in a low whisper.

She blushed and loosened her grip, hoping he couldn't hear the way her heart was hammering erratically through her chest with the anticipation of what was about to happen.

The horses stopped, and Darren slid off then raised a hand to help Nessa down.

She took it and allowed him to help her, mostly because she didn't know what else to do.

A stablehand approached to lead the horses away, and the rest of the men disappeared into the castle, leaving Darren, Nessa, and Eoin waiting outside.

Darren nudged Nessa lightly with his shoulder. "Dinnae look so grim. This isnae an execution."

Nessa wasn't so sure. She was about to say as much, but the words died on her lips as the doors opened and three figures walked out.

In the center, there he was: Cailean McNair.

The last time Nessa had seen him, he had been sparing her father's life.

Not that it had made a difference in the end.

Part of her longed to ask him why he hadn't just ended it there and then, but she could not bring herself to speak.

She didn't think she could even breathe.

The other two were her sisters, of course. Maeve was holding tightly to Cailean's hand, but Breana rushed forward, hurtling into Eoin's open arms. Nessa watched, frozen, as the couple kissed in happy reunion, then Breana whispered something in Eoin's ear.

Eoin's response was to embrace Breana again, more tightly this time, then lift her up and spin her in a circle. He was grinning and laughing by the time he put her down, and he kissed her once more.

"We'll talk soon," he promised her. "But I think ye've somethin' else ye should be doin'."

"Go on," Darren encouraged Nessa in a low voice. "Ye'll be safe here. I willnae let anyone hurt ye, but ye must take the first steps yerself. They've been waitin' an awfully long time."

Hesitantly, Nessa took a few steps forward toward Breana. Eoin retreated, and Maeve, seeming almost as reluctant as Nessa, dropped Cailean's hand and moved toward them.

At last, the three sisters met in the middle.

Maeve looked every bit a queen, as beautiful as ever, standing tall and proud.

She wore a fine but practical dress, and her chestnut hair had grown considerably since the last time Nessa had seen it.

She wore it loose, tumbling over her shoulders.

Nessa wondered if Maeve had ever known how much her youngest sister had coveted her beauty while they were growing up.

Almost unconsciously, Nessa touched her own dark hair, twirling a strand nervously around her finger.

Breana, meanwhile, hadn't changed. She was still soft, her light-brown hair and large thoughtful eyes giving her the look of innocence despite being the oldest of all of them.

Her hair was tied back in a plait that went down her back, and she wore a simple loose blue dress that made her look more comfortable and at home than Nessa had ever seen her.

Nessa had grown up envying her as well, not necessarily for her beauty but for her poise and grace.

They were not the O'Sullivan sisters, not anymore.

Both of Nessa's older sisters had been married not once, but twice, and both had chosen the second husband, their new clans, by themselves.

They had their family now, and Nessa, in choosing her father, had made sure that she was not a part of that new family, no matter what Darren thought.

Too much time had passed. Too much pain.

She stared at them and they stared back. She wondered how she looked in their eyes, and she did not imagine it was a positive image.

"Breana?" Nessa whispered, the word heavy on her lips.

Her oldest sister's composure broke, and tears filled her eyes before she ran forward and wrapped her arms around Nessa with as much enthusiasm as she had around Eoin.

Breana held Nessa close, stroking her hair.

The last time they'd hugged had been many years before, so long ago that Nessa could barely count.

Breana had tried to be a comfort to her—but Nessa had turned her away, over and over again.

Now, though, she leaned into the hug just for a moment.

Breana pulled back but kept her hands on Nessa's arms, running her eyes critically up and down her full frame, obviously inspecting her for damage or changes or something else that Nessa did not understand.

"Ye're thinner," Breana said after a moment. "Och, has that horrible man nae been feedin' ye? Cailean, will ye tell the cooks tae make her a meal?"

"I'm nae hungry," Nessa said. "Really, I'm fine, I…"

She trailed off as her eyes landed on Maeve, who was still standing back, watching her warily as though she wasn't sure what she was going to do. At last, Maeve spoke, not coming any closer.

"The last time I saw ye, ye covered me escape," Maeve said slowly, "But then ye went tae watch Cailean's execution without so much as a moment's hesitation. I dinnae understand. What side are ye on?"

Nessa felt her whole body tremble, but she straightened up, sticking out her chin and holding her back stiff as her mother had taught her.

"The last time I saw ye , ye told me tae escape with ye—and then, when ye fled, ye left me behind," Nessa told her quietly.

"And now ye've dragged me here. Whose side are ye on? "

Breana shook her head. "Nay, Nessa, it wasnae like that. Maeve told me what happened, and I was there in the castle that day. I?—"

"Ye didnae look for me," Nessa told her.

Just a flicker of vulnerability entered her tone at those words, but she stomped them out almost immediately.

In a colder voice, she said, "Which I'm glad for, of course.

Ye've sworn yer allegiance tae these rebels.

By leavin' without me, ye were only doin' yer duty. As was I."

Maeve finally stepped forward. "Nessa, I think ye should come inside. We have a lot tae talk about, a lot tae discuss. And I think?—"

But Nessa shook her head. A sudden overwhelming exhaustion descended upon her, and she found it more difficult than she ever had in her life to remain standing.

She could not do this now. She wasn't sure she would ever be able to do this.

Nessa O'Sullivan had spent her whole life building up her composure, and she would not allow these two to shatter it here and now.

"I am tired," she said, which was not a lie. "It has been a long journey, and I need tae rest. Please, just take me tae me cell. If we must discuss things, let it be after I have had a chance tae sleep."

Breana took a few steps backward, and the two older sisters exchanged glances. Both of them surprised, though Breana's had an undercurrent of sadness while Maeve instead seemed a little annoyed.

"What do ye mean, cell?" Maeve demanded. "Do ye think I would bring ye all the way here tae throw ye in a cell? Dinnae be ridiculous." Then, as if she couldn't help herself, she added, "We arenae all the same as our father."

"Maeve, please," Breana said quietly. "That isnae helpful."

Cailean stepped forward, placing a placating hand on his wife's arm and addressing Nessa directly for the first time.

She could not meet his eyes, remembering the last time she had seen him, standing on that stage awaiting his execution.

"Welcome," he told her. "Go with Darren, if ye're tired.

He will take ye tae yer room, and we can all have a talk later. "

Darren took his cue and slipped an arm through Nessa's. "Come on," he said in her ear. "Let's go."

Nessa did not argue. She leaned on Darren's arm and went with him, using that tiny connection as the only comfort she had left.

She would enter McNair Castle, and she would wait at her sisters' whims until the tides changed again.

Because Nessa O'Sullivan had been born a pawn, and a pawn she would remain.

There was nothing else left in the world that she could do otherwise.

The chamber to which Darren led Nessa was small, but not unpleasant.

There was a small but comfortable-looking bed taking up the majority of one wall, clearly made for one person, along with a desk, a chair, a private partition for washing, a small wardrobe, and a shelf with a few books.

The books were a surprise. Nessa was not a huge reader—she had never had time for stories, even though she knew her sisters had loved them—but she felt touched that someone had thought of giving her something to do while she passed her day in imprisonment.

"Were the books yer idea?" she asked Darren.

"Mine?" Darren asked. "Do I look like the readin' type?" He winked after saying it, and as had happened so many times since she'd met him, she couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

Sighing a little irritably at his incessant cheerfulness, Nessa stepped further into the room. There was only one decoration on the wall: a landscape painting of bluebell woods, the trees rising powerfully up into the frame, the grass carpeted with the beautiful blue wildflowers.

"Oh," she breathed. "Bluebells. They're me favorite flower."