Page 14 of The Rise of the Highland King (The Last Celtic King #1)

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Guards were taunting Cailean, and he was ignoring them. Only two of them were here in the solitary dungeon now; the rest were up in the castle or in the main dungeon, guarding the other prisoners or preparing for the grand execution.

"Pretender Prince," one of the guards jeered. "When yer head slips from yer body, dae ye think Laird O'Sullivan will display it for all tae see?"

"Just as they did with the bodies of yer pathetic parents," the other guard added. "They'll spill yer blood first, then the blood of each of the worms who follow ye. All yer efforts will be worth nothin', scum."

Both guards laughed. The first snorted and said, "And just wait 'til O'Sullivan gets his hands on those whore daughters of his. Do ye think, since they're ruined anyway, he'll allow us tae?—"

Cailean looked up furiously, ready to react to the implication, but before the guard could finish his awful threat, his words cut off with a horrible gurgling choke. As Cailean watched, the man fell to the ground, dead—and a second later, the other guard was cut down too, all before either of them could realize what was happening.

Staring into the shadows, Cailean tried to understand what had just happened, but then it all became clear as an unbelievable sight swam into view before him, sword drawn, determination on his face.

"Eoin?" Cailean couldn't understand what he was seeing. The last time he had seen the only remaining Darach, he'd been back at Bruce Castle. "What?—?"

"There's nae time. Where are the keys?" Eoin demanded.

"On his belt," Cailean replied immediately, nodding down toward the dead guard on the left. "But I dinnae understand…"

Eoin grabbed the keys and unlocked the cell with lightning speed. He pulled open the cell door and said, "Nae questions. Just follow. We dinnae have time, the hour of the execution will arrive at any moment. We must escape now before it's too late."

Cailean almost followed, then stopped. Where would he go? Running back to Bruce Castle, leaving this all behind until O'Sullivan had enough resources to launch an attack on them himself? No. He could not do that: there were too many people here, too many potential allies gathered, too much of a spectacle to pass up. O'Sullivan wanted to see the McNair name and the whole rebellion ridiculed and defeated, and if Cailean fled, O'Sullivan would twist it into him simply being a coward.

He couldn't allow it. Not while he had this chance. He could not run away when there was so much to gain. Cailean had to stay here and show these people who O'Sullivan truly was—and, by extension, the truth about the False King and all that he and his underlings stood for. He must show people the true strength of the McNair name and of the rebellion, and of how his heart beat for his country. He'd show them all that he'd do anything to protect it. The McNairs would reclaim what was stolen from them, and they'd free the people who relied on them.

And he had to show it. Even if it meant risking everything.

"Come on," Eoin urged. "Maeve is waitin'."

That caused a deep twinge of pain in Cailean's heart. He thought of Maeve, his love, his light, and wondered how it would be if he would never see her again. No. He couldn't think that way, because he couldn't believe that there was any world in which that was possible. In this life or the next, they'd always be together. And besides—she was his queen. And a queen understood that a king must act as the country needed from him. From them both.

"Eoin. I'm nae leavin'," Cailean said resolutely.

" What?"

"I'm nae leavin'," he repeated. He took a deep breath. "I willnae leave this place. Nae without a fight."

Nessa's chambers were no different from what they had been almost four years ago when Maeve had seen them last. It was like a physical blow to be inside of them, seeing the severe decorations that had never been suitable for a young woman—her rooms had been designed to be as harsh as her parents had trained her to be. Maeve felt herself falling back through the years, back to when she and Breana had always begged Nessa to join them and been rebuffed over and over, back to how Nessa had been favored so strongly that the chasm between the three sisters had felt truly impossible to bridge.

Dropping Maeve's arm almost as if it burned her, Nessa retreated a few steps, looking wild in the eyes in a way that Maeve had never seen her. She hurried to the door and listened closely at it, then checked the little side door that led to her washroom, all while Maeve just stood in the center of the room, waiting.

"Ye're a fool!" Nessa hissed as soon as she was sure that they were truly alone. "I thought ye were supposed tae be the wild rebel who escaped the grip of the Darachs, but ye're clearly as silly and airheaded as Father always claimed ye were."

Maeve blinked, surprised at the emotion in her sister's voice. She'd never heard anything other than carefully rehearsed coldness there. "I?—"

"Why would ye come back here? Here, of all places?" Nessa's voice raised, and it was clear she was becoming distressed. "Ye are riskin' yer life and the lives of everyone in yer little…group…by bein' here."

Maeve scowled, frustration building up quickly inside her. Here she was, listening to Nessa, of all people, chastising her as if she were a child, while Cailean was locked in a dungeon awaiting execution!

"Breana and I came—" she started.

Nessa clasped her hands together, looking thoroughly stunned and exasperated. " Breana is here? How could ye be so foolish? Do ye ken what will happen if Father finds her? At least ye can supposedly fight; what will she do if?—"

Maeve had heard enough. "Ye ken nothin' about Breana, nor about me for that matter. And what do ye care anyway? Ye were always mother's favorite, and father's as well. Ye've been sidin' with him since we were bairns. What does it matter tae ye what happens tae Breana and me?"

Something beyond Maeve's wildest dreams happened at that moment. It was the slightest movement, the slightest change, but it shone more brightly than anything Maeve had ever seen. For just a fraction of a second, something seemed to soften in Nessa's eyes.

Maeve held out a hand. "Nessa," she said quietly.

The mask was back up in less time than it took to breathe, and ice and coldness were masking Nessa's face once more. "I am doing what I have always done, what Breana could never do and what ye never would," Nessa told her icily. "I'm doin' me duty."

"I'm doin' me duty too. Please, Nessa, try tae understand," Maeve told her. "I ken there's more tae ye than this. Breana saw it even more clearly than I did, and now…it's time tae make up for what we've lost."

Nessa didn't speak.

Maeve did not move her hand. She had to press this moment, and she couldn't let it slip through her fingers. There was a crack in Nessa's previously impenetrable armor, the tiniest sliver of the hope that Breana and Maeve had spoken about.

"Come with me," Maeve whispered. "Think of the things we could achieve, the three of us together. Think of how strong we would be as a united front, overcomin' whatever our father, the king, anyone could throw at us."

Nessa stared at her, and for the briefest moment, it seemed like her hand flinched upward.

Someone knocked at the door.

Nessa's coldness returned in full, and she swept to open the door, though Maeve noticed that she positioned herself so that whoever was on the other side would not be able to see Maeve. "What do ye want?" Nessa snapped. "I am restin'."

"Forgive me for the interruption," a timid servant's voice came from the other side. "But yer father sent me tae fetch ye. He said…he said it's time."

"Time?" Nessa asked.

"For the execution."

Maeve's heart stopped in her chest. No. She couldn't have missed it—it couldn't have already gotten to the point where there was no time left. Where was Eoin? Where were Darren and Breana? Why hadn't anyone done anything to stop this before it got to this point?

Her legs felt like they lost all of their strength, and Maeve grabbed the edge of a table to support herself. Nausea warred in her stomach, and her vision swam. She could barely see.

"Ah," Nessa said, though Maeve could hear that she spoke in that strange, rehearsed way again, rather than in the more natural voice she'd used when confronting Maeve. "So it is time for the traitor tae die. Good. Leave me."

"I'm tae escort ye…" the servant stammered.

"Leave me," Nessa said again, this time in a more commanding voice. "I must finish gettin' ready for the event."

The servant must have acquiesced because a moment later, Nessa closed the door again and turned back to Maeve.

"Well?" Maeve whispered, trying to speak through her dizziness and fear. "What will ye do?"

"I will go tae the courtyard and witness the execution," Nessa told her primly. "And ye… I suggest ye use the chance tae run. Find Breana and escape. While ye still can."

Nessa did not say another word to her, studiously ignoring her as she gathered a few things and pinned a cloak in the O'Sullivan colors around her neck. She did not even glance at Maeve as she left the room once more.

Maeve knew that a time would come when she'd have to reach out to Nessa again—but now was not that time. As soon as Nessa was gone, she rushed out of the room and down the corridors, no longer caring if she was seen or not. She had to get to Cailean.

Maeve ran as fast as her legs would carry her.

The solitary dungeon where Maeve knew that her father would keep Cailean was unlocked when Maeve arrived, and her heart was in her throat with fear as she pushed open the doors. There were no guards here, nobody at all, in fact. She walked down the thin staircase and along to the cell.

It was empty. There was no sign that anyone had been there except some blood on the floor just outside of the cell door.

No guards.

No prisoner.

No Cailean.

Maeve was too late.