Page 43

Simone

Simone and Artan sluiced through the water in the small ship, one they’d borrowed from Sloan, and headed toward Mingary.

“She’ll be there,” Simone whispered.

They reached the beach in Bloody Bay, landed the boat, and hid it in the weeds. There were no lights on around the castle.

Luckily, the half-moon gave them enough light to find their way to the curtain wall opening they’d used previously. “You’d think they would have filled it in.” Simone snorted.

“Never said she was smart,” Artan joked. “Slimy, crafty, and a liar, but never smart.”

Simone chortled. “I cannot wait to meet your dear sister.”

“By marriage only. And she’ll never admit it, but I know she had my brother killed. He was a fool. I cannot argue that.”

They crept through the opening and through the unlocked cellar door.

Once inside, Artan reached back for Simone’s hand. “I don’t wish to lose you. Have your bow ready?”

“Aye. Move along.”

Artan crept up the stairs onto the main floor, surprised to hear no sounds at all. There was no one moving about the castle. Of that much Simone was certain.

“’Tan, there’s no one here.”

Artan turned back to her with a wide grin on his face. “Aye, there is. Listen carefully.” He tugged her forward into the great hall—the empty great hall that showed no signs of an evening meal either.

But then she heard it.

The snore.

A loud snore came from a place above stairs. “Is that Glenna?” Simone asked.

“I’d recognize it anywhere, though it is a bit louder. Evidence of how sickly she is. There’s probably one maid here with Glenna. No one else. Kelvan keeps her here out of his way, is my guess.”

“Move along, then. I’ll check the other chambers while you check hers for any guards by the door.”

They separated, so Simone climbed the stairs and checked every single space, and all were empty but one, as Artan had thought. The servant was sound asleep in her chamber at the end of the passageway.

Simone met Artan back at the doorway and said, “It’s time. Wake her up. She’s put the people and friends of my clan through enough.”

Artan said, “And mine. Tamsin is finally relaxing, but this is stirring her up again. Thane worries about her.”

“Tamsin will be fine, but only if we get rid of the two blights on Mull—Glenna and Kelvan.”

Artan nodded, then squeezed her hand. “Let’s go inside. Ready your weapon and hide in a corner before I awaken her.”

The chamber was dark, but with Glenna’s snoring, it wasn’t difficult to find an alcove opposite her bed in the huge chamber built for a king.

Simone gave a short whistle to let Artan know she was settled.

Artan stood at the end of the bed after he opened a shutter on the nearby window to light up the area a bit.

“Glenna, wake up.”

Nothing.

“Glenna,” Artan said a bit louder before he lifted the heather-stuffed mattress and dropped it again. “Wake up.”

“What? Who? What is going on? Who are you?” The woman opened her eyes and looked about her, not settling on Artan for a few moments.

“Come now, Glenna. You must remember me. I was at your cottage often enough until you tired of my brother and killed him.” Artan stood strong at the end of the bed, his shoulders back, his brown hair curling at the collar of his tunic.

How Simone adored him, his power so subtle to most, but he was so intelligent that it amazed her.

Smart and kind, something that was hard to find.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“Then you hired someone to kill him.”

“You don’t know anything. What the hell do you want, Artan?

Your brother deserved to die. He kept everything from me—my jewels, the silks.

He wouldn’t allow me to shop either. He was a coldhearted bastard, and you know it.

Get out of my castle.” She sat up, her stump still wrapped in a bloody bandage, the green color telling Simone it had yet to heal.

Glenna was not a beautiful woman, her hair a complete mess, her skin pale and sallow, something Simone could see in the light of the moon.

The sickness in her gaze was also clear.

This woman was cruel to the end of every one of her bones.

Insufferable and vile, her insides rotting with hate. It oozed from her pores.

Simone had met women just like her before.

Artan said, “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where the Grant woman is. Where are they keeping her?” He waited for another of her many lies, but Simone knew how to get her talking.

“She’s not going anywhere. I owe her. It’s her fault my grandfather died by her father’s sword. And it’s her fault I lost my hand. She owes me in so many ways.”

“Och, the trials and tribulations of the world according to the twisted, maniacal beliefs of Glenna of Buchan. You tell so many lies that you believe them yourself. Where is Kelvan keeping her? You have no one here to help you but a tiny maid, so answer my question.”

“She owes me.” Glenna grabbed a pillow and nearly flung it at Artan but something stopped her. “Look what happened to my hand, and it keeps giving me the fever.” She held up her bandaged stump, as if he would care.

“Kyla had naught to do with that.”

“She did so. It’s all her fault.”

“You lie, Glenna. Tell me where she is.”

“Never. I’ll kill you first, Artan.” She pulled a wee dagger from under her pillow and pointed it at him.

Simone didn’t particularly like that move.

An arrow flew next to Glenna’s head, landing in the wooden headboard behind her. Glenna screamed, hiding under the covers.

Simone had already had enough of the lying fool. Her husband was way too patient. She strode forward, her bow in her hand. She whipped the top coverlet back. “Get your bloody, lying arse out from under the covers. Look me in the eye if you want a chance at living long enough to see dawn.”

Glenna dropped the covers and sat up. “Who the hell are you?”

“Logan Ramsay’s daughter. I know the truth. I know that you jumped out of an alcove and struck my father from behind, and it was his guard’s quick action that cut off your hand. If you hadn’t tried to kill my father, you would still have ten fingers. Your fault. Not Kyla Grant’s.”

“It is her fault. She sent them to me.”

“She did not. It isn’t her fault. All. Your. Fault. You. Big. Lying. Bitch.” She stretched the tone of the last word out long enough to make sure Glenna understood her well.

Glenna began to whine like a bairn. “It was Kyla’s son who struck me, so it is her fault.”

“You struck first, trying to kill my father.”

“And I wish I had. Old bastard has caused Kelvan more trouble than anyone.”

“For kidnapping bairns? Who kidnaps bairns but people who deserve torturous deaths? He’ll get his just due soon enough.

And as for your grandfather, if he hadn’t tried to force his daughter onto my cousin Torrian, he wouldn’t have become so cruel.

He forced Davina to lie to our king. He had Kyla beaten so close to death that her father had to have her carried back home.

I know all the history, Glenna, so don’t think I’ll fall for your lies. Now, where is Kyla?”

Glenna glared at Simone and crossed her arms, but then barked, “Ow!” when her stump hit the other arm straight on. “Hellfire. All Logan Ramsay’s fault.”

Simone took several steps back, nocking her next shot as she moved. “You forget who you’re talking to, woman.”

Glenna held up her arms. “I don’t know where Kyla is.”

The arrow hit just behind the other side of her face.

“Try again!” Simone yelled.

“She’s not here.”

Another arrow over her head.

“He has her hidden on the mainland.”

“Not enough information. Where?”

“I don’t know, I told you. I don’t pay attention to that.”

Three arrows flew around her and then a dagger hit her shoulder. “Try again!” Simone whispered. “This is your last warning. The next one will be in your eye.”

Glenna let out a scream that would surely draw the dead from their graves.

“Drimnin. She’s in a cottage underground in Drimnin.

They took her to Morvern where there’s so few people.

You’ll never find it because I can’t. I honestly don’t know anything more than that.

I’ve never been in it. Kelvan had it made. ”

Simone said, “That’s enough. If you’re lying, I’ll be back.”

They hurried out, down through the cellar opening.

“I can’t believe she is foolish enough to be here without guards.”

“There are probably a few at the drawbridge in the front, and they’re probably drunk and asleep.”

“We’ll row to Lochaline and find the man awaiting our message.”

Artan nodded and took Simone’s hand, leading her in the dark to the boat.

They rowed quietly, the half-moon-lit night peaceful and beautiful as any she’d seen.

Simone paused once and reached for her husband.

“Is it possible it could be so quiet when the entire area will be lit up with warriors on the morrow?” A distant owl hooted, echoing in the silence, the only other sound the quiet lapping of the waves against the rocks on the shoreline.

Artan said, “I am worried when I think on what she told us.”

“Why?”

“If the entrance is buried and the building is underground, how will we discover it in a forest? It reminds me of the door hidden under the chest in the cottage on Ulva. Nearly impossible to locate.”

“We’ll find her.”

They continued until Simone saw the messenger waiting by the water’s edge, his horse and two mounted Grant guards behind him. She moved over to the man and said, “Drimnin on Morvern. Meet Connor at Drimnin.”

The messenger nodded and mounted, the three animals galloping away from the shore.

Simone and Artan rowed back across to MacVey land, leaving the boat there for the morrow. As they climbed the hill to the main path, Simone said, “We’ll save her.”

“How?” Artan whispered. “Things built underground are impossible to detect.”

“Lia and Tora and one more, I think. If his father can handle it.”

“Who?”

“Grant.”

“The bairn?”

“Aye. Grant is tied to John somehow. He’ll help us. I would wager Grant knows exactly where John is.”

Artan whispered, “Poor Maitland.”

Simone squeezed Artan’s hand. “Poor Maeve.”