Page 6 of The Rise of the Highland King (The Last Celtic King #1)

5

Breana was used to being left behind. She was the oldest of her sisters, but she had never been the first among them. In their family, Nessa had been the only one prized by their parents, beloved by them both, though Breana suspected she had faced her own hardships in that role. Maeve, though she had suffered just as much as Breana had as a child, had always been the beautiful one, the fierce one. Maeve was Breana's younger sister, but she had always taken care of Breana, more than the other way around—at least, that's what it had always felt like.

Then, when Maeve had been taken away from her and married off to Malcolm Darach, Breana had been left alone. She had blended into the background, unseen and unspoken to, for years, a ghost in her own childhood home. Her father ignored her, her younger sister avoided her. It had been an empty life, a lonely one, but safe, at least. She had written Maeve a hundred letters, but she could never convince a servant to take them—her father had forbidden it—and so she had slowly retreated into a cocoon of only herself.

Even that comfort had been taken from her, though, when she was sent off to be married to Kyle Darach. She flinched away from the memory of that short but awful time she had spent in this very castle.

But now…now everything was different. Maeve had saved her. The rebels had saved her. They had given her a place among them, and yet Breana still somehow felt like she'd been left behind. Everyone here had a role, a purpose. Her new friends Ferda and Patty were a scout and a healer respectively; her closest friend Eoin was a brave guard; Maeve and her love were fierce warriors and the future king and queen beside. But Breana? She didn't fit anywhere. She'd never learned to cook or to heal, never developed the stomach to fight. She tried to lend a hand where she could, but she felt hopeless, like she would never find a place to be herself—or even to discover who that self really was.

All that Breana liked to do was draw. Though she cleaned up after the healers and the cooks, she really felt like the only thing she was good at was designing and drawing up the maps that so fascinated her. After spending such a long time trapped, she had developed a sixth sense for cartography, bringing the worlds she'd believed she'd never visit into her home and her heart. But now, she felt silly and even inadequate, doodling a detailed map of the lands of Bruce Castle and the surrounding clan lands, not sure if she would ever find a sense of purpose.

"Are ye all right?"

Breana blinked, startled by the voice interrupting her, and looked up to see Eoin standing at the door to the library. He was leaning against the frame, watching her closely. She smiled to see him despite her inner turmoil. He'd helped save her from his father, and in the aftermath of Kyle Darach's death, the two of them had bonded. Eoin had gone through a complex time after the execution of his evil father; he had spared no tears for the man, but neither could he pretend that he was absolutely fine with what had happened. Breana, who knew what it was to be the child of a tyrant, had been there to comfort him, in thanks for all he had done to save her. They had become friends, perhaps her first true friend outside of her sister, though she still found it hard to believe that he didn't just feel responsible for her.

"Eoin," she acknowledged. "I'm just…drawin'. Sorry."

"Sorry for what? Ye're free tae draw," Eoin said with a small laugh. "Ye ken ye dinnae need tae apologize for existin', Breana."

He was trying to be kind, but Breana felt a wave of shame go through her. She wished she could explain what was going on inside her mind and why that sense of inadequacy lingered, but she knew that if she tried to explain, he would just try to comfort her. She didn't know that anyone would ever see her as an equal even with all her flaws. Maybe if they did, she'd find her strengths—if she had any at all.

Eoin walked over to stand behind her and peered over her shoulder to examine her map. "That's impressive," he said, with a sincerity in his voice that took Breana back. "Is this an accurate map?"

"As accurate as I could make it from me wanderin's and the reference books," Breana told him cautiously. Was he going to make fun of her?

But he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he seemed truly fascinated as he continued. "It's good. Better than some of the things our cartographer managed durin' the journeys. Ye should show them yer work, see if?—"

"No, no, it's just for fun," Breana said hastily, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I'm naewhere near good enough tae be able tae offer real help."

Eoin tutted, but he didn't outwardly argue. Instead, he said, "Did ye want tae come and get some food? Ye missed the midday meal, so I asked the cooks tae save ye a plate. It's important ye keep yer strength up."

It was Breana's turn to laugh gently. "I've never missed a meal in me life except by choice, Eoin. I'll nae starve for skippin' a few. I'm nae as delicate as I seem, ye ken."

Eoin slipped into the seat next to her, and she turned, meeting his eyes. They were deep blue and large, owlish and intense, and she found them warm and welcoming in a way she'd never really experienced before. His auburn hair was dark, reminding her of the color of the leaves in the autumn, and he was soft and warm and friendly in a way that made it hard to keep up her shield around him.

"I never said ye were delicate," Eoin told her. "I was tryin' tae compliment yer map."

Breana broke eye contact, feeling overwhelmed for reasons she didn't really understand. "Thank ye for the compliment. But I'm really nae very hungry. If we have a spare plate, can ye send it with the rest of the food we usually send down tae the village?"

He was still watching her, concern in those eyes. "Only if ye promise me ye'll eat dinner."

"I swear it," she said, though it was mostly just to make him happy. She didn't really have much of an appetite these days.

Eoin nodded. He paused, then said, "Do…do ye mind if I stay? I'd love tae see the way ye draw."

Stay, said the voice inside Breana's mind, eager to have him by her side in a way she'd never really experienced before. She found things easy with him, and to have him here would be a comfort when she was otherwise feeling so adrift. But when she opened her mouth, the words that came out were, "Ye should go. Ye have much tae do around here, and I'm just drawin'."

Eoin's smile faltered, and Breana wanted to take it back. But instead, they sat there in awkward silence for a moment, until at last he let out a small sigh and nodded. He stood up and headed toward the door.

"Eoin, wait."

He turned back. "Aye?"

"Have…have ye heard anythin' about Maeve? And the others?" Breana asked. It had only been a few days, so she wasn't expecting anything, but she would never forgive herself if she didn't ask.

A flicker of something showed in Eoin's eyes. It almost looked like disappointment. But a moment later, he smiled and said, "Nae news yet, but I'm nae worried. If anyone can manage tae get the country together again, it's Cailean and Maeve."

Breana nodded, though she felt a strange tightness in her heart again. Yes, she believed that Eoin was right—her sister could do anything. Breana just wished she could say the same about herself.

Eoin hesitated, looking like he wanted to say more. Then he sighed and said, "I'll see ye at supper then."

"See ye at supper," Breana replied.

He left then, and she was suddenly aware of how quiet the library was with just her in it. Why hadn't she asked him to stay? She'd wanted to. But instead, here she was, alone with just her map, no news of her sister, no way to help.

Tears filled Breana's eyes, and she wiped them away in frustration. She was being ridiculous and she knew it. Why couldn't she just say what she wanted? Why couldn't she just find the place where she fit?

She peered at her map, squinting at it, trying to understand what was wrong. Eoin had said it was impressive, but Breana knew there was something not right with it. Looking closer, she realized the issue in a flash—the area around the forest was missing a lot of detail, detail that wasn't present in any of the maps that already existed in the castle.

That was something she could do. She'd go for a walk in the forest now to clear her head and maybe take note of some of the detail that were missing. Maybe then, she'd feel like she had a place—even if that place was just outside the walls of the castle.

Breana had been strolling in the forest for almost an hour, taking notes as she walked, absorbed in her work. For the first time in a while, her heart lifted, enjoying what she was doing, feeling centered. Maybe there was something to what Eoin had said about her talking to the cartographers. Maybe she could be of some help after all; maybe?—

"Help…please help…"

The faint voice shocked Breana out of her thoughts, and she spun where she stood, seeking out the sound.

"Help me…"

It was a woman's voice, and it sounded weak. Whoever was begging for help was clearly in pain, and they were nearby. Breana looked around wildly, hoping one of the other rebels would appear, but she was alone in the forest. Alone, that was, except for whoever was begging for help.

She needed to do something, and she pushed through her sudden paralyzing fear. "Can ye hear me? Where are ye?" she called back, hoping that the injured woman could not hear the shaking in her voice.

"...help…"

Breana followed the voice to the bushes at the side of the path and almost cried out in shock. A woman lay there, pale and bleeding from a large wound at her side which she was clutching hard, trying to keep her lifeblood inside. Breana hurried to her, falling roughly to her knees at her side.

"What happened tae ye?" she asked desperately. "Who hurt ye?" She ripped off the bottom of her skirt, not really sure what she was doing except that she had to help with the bleeding. The woman didn't protest as Breana pressed the makeshift bandage against the wound.

"Treachery," the woman gasped. "Treachery."

Breana knew it was dangerous to try to move the woman, but she also knew she couldn't leave her here. She would have to keep her talking, keep her awake, in order to get her back to the healers before it was too late. She helped the woman to her feet, encouraging her to lean against her. "Hold the bandage tae the wound," she instructed her, hoping that it was the right thing to do.

They moved through the forest, the woman staggering but conscious. "McKenzie," she muttered. "McKenzie."

Cold ice flooded Breana's veins. "Murtagh McKenzie?" she asked. Breana could see the walls of the castle ahead, so she forced herself to keep moving, even though the shock made her want to stand stock-still. "Are ye talkin' about…"

"Treachery…" the woman said again, then coughed. Blood leaked through the makeshift bandage and got on the remains of Breana's dress. The woman's legs gave out under her, and she stumbled. Breana managed to keep her up, but only just.

"No more talkin'," Breana assured her, trying to ignore the nausea and fear in her guts. "Let's get ye help."

"She's a spy. One of the White Sparrows, the people who Ferda went to find," Eoin explained to Breana. "And ye saved her life."

The two of them sat outside the council room, waiting to be called inside when the elders had all arrived. As soon as Breana had passed the injured woman off to the healers, she'd hurried off to find Eoin, the only person she could think of at the moment. She told him what the woman had said to her, and he'd urgently called for the council.

"I… I dinnae ken how I managed tae get her back here," Breana confessed. The healers had told her the woman was going to be all right, which was a relief at least, but now all that Breana could think about was Maeve. What had the spy meant by treachery? Had someone from the McKenzie clan somehow been the one to hurt her? Surely not.

"But ye did," Eoin told her. He put a hand on her arm, and only when he did that did Breana realize that she was shaking. His skin felt comforting against hers, and she found herself breathing a little more steadily at his small gesture of comfort. "Ye did, and now we have information we wouldnae have had otherwise, and she's gonnae live."

"But what does it mean?" Breana asked, a tremor in her tone. "McKenzie…do ye really think…?"

"I dinnae ken," Eoin told her. He took her hand and squeezed it.

The elders arrived soon after, and Breana told the whole story once more, from the moment she'd heard the injured woman's voice to the words she'd said. As she spoke, she could hear her words jumbling up as her anxiety rose to the surface, urgency making it difficult to focus.

When she was finished, Hamish was the first to speak. "The spy—her name is Barbara—she is unconscious. We likely willnae get any further information from her any time soon. So it's vitally important ye tell us everythin' that she said."

"That is everythin'," Breana assured him. "Treachery. McKenzie. That's all she said." Her stomach tightened uncomfortably, and she felt like she was going to be sick. "Is Maeve in danger? How can we warn her? How can we help her?"

Kier rubbed at his thick beard, then shook his head. "We dinnae have enough information tae go on. Barbara may have meant any number of things by her warnin'. If we're tae go in, swords raised, and it turns out there's been a mistake—we could have ruined everythin' before it's even started. The McKenzie treaty is essential tae Cailean's plans."

"Nae if he's a monster," Eoin argued. "Nae if his men injured this lass, our lass, presumably tae keep some dark secret. What if Cailean and his men are in danger? Are we tae just stand back and hope?"

"We're tae trust Cailean," Senan said, exchanging looks with the other three council members. "I believe he'll be able tae deal with whatever ploy Murtagh McKenzie throws his way. He's nae unaware, and he didnae go intae this a blind, trustin' fool. He'll be on his guard."

Ewan nodded. "We must trust our king, if he's tae rule us. If there's a threat?—"

"There is a threat," Breana interrupted, unable to believe what she was hearing. "And Maeve is there! Deirdre, Darren, Fergus, all of the rest of them are there—nae just Cailean. He'll be distracted, tryin' tae protect them all. We need tae let them ken there's danger, or…"

"There will always be danger. Always," Kier told her, obviously trying to sound gentle while still being firm. "This is war. We must trust Cailean and Maeve and the others tae face whatever threat Murtagh McKenzie poses. If Barbara awakes and has further information, we'll act on it. Until then, we wait."

"We cannae just wait!" Breana protested. "We cannae?—"

"We wait," Kier repeated firmly. "And we trust Cailean."

As soon as night fell, Breana snuck out of the castle, knowing that what she was about to do was foolish but also knowing that she had no other choice. Her fear for Maeve was all-consuming, and she could not just sit idly by and wait around while her sister might be in danger. She had only just gotten her back, and the idea that she might lose her again was completely unacceptable.

Most of the horses were asleep in the stable, and Breana had no idea which belonged to someone and which were just for all of the rebels, but she didn't have time to think about that now. She walked along the row until she found a horse that was awake, and she took that as a sign that this was the one to get her where she needed to go. She led the horse out of the stall, thanking God she'd learned to ride as a child, and attached her pack hastily to the saddle.

"Are ye stealin' that horse?" a voice asked from the shadows.

Breana yelped and spun around to face the corner from where the voice had come. Eoin came out from the shadows, his arms folded, an inscrutable expression on his face.

"I kent ye'd be here," he said. "I came tae wait. Ye're more like Maeve than ye think. She wouldnae have just waited, either." He shook his head. "Ye cannae just ride off alone."

"Please." Breana stepped toward him, pleading as she did. Part of her wanted to back down as she had done her whole life, but she couldn't do that. Not when Maeve's life was on the line. "Please understand. I need tae go. I need tae warn me sister. And it isnae just her—this whole rebellion will fall if we dinnae help Cailean. None of us want that. Please, Eoin—dinnae try tae stop me."

There was a crystalline silence, then Eoin sighed. "Nothin' I say is goin' tae stop ye, I suppose."

"Nothin'," she agreed.

He took a step toward her, looming over her. "I could stop ye. I could make ye stay, physically."

Breana took a breath, a newfound determination filling her. "Do it," she challenged. "And at the first opportunity, I'll slip away again. I am scared to death for me sister, and I willnae stop until I ken I've done everythin' I can tae keep her safe."

Eoin's expression finally cracked, and it relaxed into something like admiration. "I understand," he told her. "And I ken I cannae keep ye here. So, come on."

"What?"

"Come on," he repeated. "I'm comin' with ye."

Breana could barely believe what she was hearing. "I…ye dinnae have tae do that for me."

Eoin nodded. "I ken. Let's go."

He had a horse saddled in just a few minutes, and as the two of them rode out into the night, Breana's heart was hammering wildly in her chest. There was fear there, of course, but that wasn't all that it was. She couldn't stop thinking about the way that Eoin had looked at her.

For the first time, she'd believed that someone could see her. For the first time, someone had looked at her not just with concern, but with admiration. Like she was an equal. Like she was a partner. For the first time in her whole life, those blue eyes had made her feel like she had found her place.

As though she'd finally found what she was looking for. And now, she needed to make sure she didn't lose it again.