Chapter Six

October, 1317

One month later

Sinclair land, Scottish Highlands

“Checkmate.” Lillian moved the piece into position, a slow smile spreading across her face.

Will sighed and dropped his forehead into his hand. “Damn. Walked into it again.”

“What is this, the third time in a row I’ve beaten you? Or was it the fourth?”

“Ye ken verra well it was the fourth, and ye are showing yerself to be a verra poor victor, English,” Will shot back with a narrowed glare.

Lillian only laughed in response. She straightened the pieces as Will rose to his feet.

It had become their habit after his nightly sweeps of the perimeter to share a game of chess next to the fire.

“At least you managed to capture my rook this time,” she teased as she, too, stood from the table. “The others are likely wondering what is taking you so long to lose. ”

Will snorted and lifted a sandy brow at her. “Aye, well, they’ll have quite a laugh to hear that ye trounced me yet again.”

In the three months since she’d been holed up here in the Highlands, Will had gone from a stranger who vaguely reminded her of one of her brothers to an actual brother in all but blood. He was one of the only people she saw with any regularity, and that closeness had allowed them to forge a sibling-like friendship.

She spent most of her days alone in the two-storey wooden cottage Will had arranged for her, so she looked forward to the evenings, when Will and a rotating team of three other guards would visit for their security check. She was used to busying herself, but she was grateful for the companionable conversations and games they shared.

“Are ye set for the night?” Will asked. It was the same question he always asked before selecting one of the men to act as her overnight watch, gathered up the others from their posts outside, and returned to their own lodgings near Roslin Castle an hour’s ride away.

“Aye,” she said, smiling at the comfort in their routine. She strolled with him across the large chamber that took up the entire first floor of her new home, then stood behind him as he pulled the door open.

He whistled into the fast-approaching darkness as he slung a cloak over his shoulders.

Only two whistles drifted back through the autumn twilight .

Although Lillian was still learning to distinguish each man’s distinctive whistle, she knew Arnold, the newest member of her small collection of rotating guards, hadn’t responded.

Will’s brows dropped, but he smoothed his features as soon as he noticed that she was watching him. “Arnold will get an arse-kicking he willnae soon forget for being slow to respond,” he said, lifting his lips into a sardonic smile.

Still, his words didn’t completely loosen the sudden knot of unease that tightened her stomach.

Life had been quiet ever since they’d fled Berwick and made their way to the farthest northeast corner of the Highlands—blessedly so. There had been no more sign of the man who’d chased her in Berwick’s back alleys. Other than the occasional run-in with a fox who liked to linger by her wood pile looking for mice, she’d felt completely safe.

Until now.

An owl hooted in the distance, and despite herself, Lillian jumped.

“Easy, lass,” Will said softly, though his gaze scanned the darkened woods beyond the open expanse of grass that had been cleared around the cottage.

The half-moon peeked out from behind the scuttling clouds, sending eerie shadows dancing in the trees a stone’s throw away.

Will whistled again. The two answering trills were closer as the men moved in toward the cottage .

Lambert was the first to emerge from the gloaming. He strode swiftly to the cottage’s doorway.

“Something isnae right, Will,” Lambert said as he came to a halt.

Lillian didn’t miss the sharp look Will sent Lambert, but he didn’t silence the man. “Where is Arnold?”

“I was supposed to cross his route, but he never appeared. He was just…gone,” Lambert said breathlessly. “I was about to return when ye whistled.”

Ewan suddenly appeared through the darkness. “What’s going on?” the gruff old warrior demanded.

Lambert quickly repeated what he’d said to Will. The three men clustered in front of the still-open door and spoke quietly, blocking Lillian inside.

As Will whistled once more into the darkness, Lillian balled her hands in her skirts. Something felt…off. Aye, Arnold was a playful, roguish man. He was always the first to tease Will for losing at chess to Lillian. He was quick with a laugh and a joke, but he took his role as a guard seriously. He would never jest about this.

“We are going into lockdown protocol,” Lillian overheard Will murmur to the others.

“Arnold is like as no’ taking a piss behind a rock somewhere,” Ewan said crossly. “I’ll go after him.”

Ewan turned back toward the woods without waiting for Will’s agreement.

“Ewan, nay,” Will barked, but the grizzled older man had already begun striding into the night.

Just then, a flicker of silver light cut through the darkness. It was only the size and shape of two fingers pressed together, and swift as a darting bird.

Time seemed to slow as Lillian’s mind fought to keep up with what happened next.

The silver bird of light buried itself in Ewan’s shoulder. The warrior grunted at the impact, his body lurching backward. Ewan fell to one knee, his hand reaching toward his shoulder, but another blade shot out of the darkness, lodging in his other arm.

Distantly, Lillian registered a scream ringing in her ears. Her own scream.

She was suddenly being shoved back into the cottage. Will’s large form almost completely blocked the doorway, but she saw Lambert lunging toward Ewan where he had tumbled more than a dozen paces away.

“Nay, Lambert!” Will shouted. “Get inside!”

Lambert froze halfway between Ewan’s slouched form and the cottage door. He turned to stare at them, then began to move back toward the cottage.

Before he got more than three steps, he lurched and twisted. With a groan, he stumbled and fell to the ground.

A dagger hilt protruded from Lambert’s shoulder blade, the same that had hit Ewan. Lambert moaned and reached feebly behind him, his fingers groping for the hilt. Ewan was struggling to rise to his feet, but every time he moved his arms, he groaned in pain and fell back.

Beyond the two crumpled warriors, the shadows suddenly seemed to come alive.

Oh God, nay.

They’d found her.