Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T he night was quiet and Lucia and Alaric were huddled up by a tree at the edge of the camp, hidden under their cloaks. To any prying eyes, they would look as though they were sleeping, covered like that to battle the chill since they were yet to be given a tent, but in reality, they were both wide awake, going through the letters Alaric had stolen.

Neither of them could believe what they were reading was true. The correspondence was between Callum and the King’s men, something that startled Lucia. Callum was not simply the leader of the Ravencloaks as she had once thought; he was working with the English to destabilize the clans and Lucia could only assume he was doing it all for his own personal gain. With the clans under English influence, weakened and divided, he could easily swoop in and reap the spoils.

Next to Lucia, Alaric was vibrating with rage. When she glanced at him, she saw that his face was contorted into a mask of fury, his anger barely contained as he spoke through gritted teeth.

“That bastard!” he hissed and Lucia couldn’t help but worry that he would march right up to Callum and kill him. Though she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, nor did she think it would not be deserved, she still wanted to find out more about her brother first before either of them resorted to drastic measures such as this. “How dare he? How dare he condemn his own brethren tae English rule?”

“I dinnae think he cares about that,” Lucia offered, for lack of anything better to say. Lucia herself resented the English as much as anyone, but she had more immediate concerns—namely, the death of her brother. For Alaric, though, this was far more personal. He may not have been a laird himself but he was still a protector of his clan. He still had people in his care and it was only natural that the thought that they were in danger would infuriate him like this.

“I must write tae me braither,” Alaric said, as though he hadn’t even heard Lucia. “I must tell him what he’s doin’.”

“How will ye dae that?” Lucia asked. They were constantly surrounded by the Ravencloaks and it wasn’t as though Alaric could ask the messenger to deliver his letter to Castle MacGregor. “Our best chance now is tae find more information. Keep readin’.”

Alaric took a deep, shaky breath, trying to regain control. Then, he did as he was told, returning to the letters, the two of them looking for any other clues that could help them under the light of a nearby torch.

It didn’t take long for Lucia to find what she had been looking for all that time. There was a letter in the pile, detailing how Callum had passed off Ronan’s death as a loss in a skirmish, when in fact it had been he who had killed him. Callum had murdered Ronan with his own two hands after planning it for months, but there were no further details.

It had been no unfortunate accident. It had been no loss in an enemy fight. It hadn’t even been a spontaneous decision, a murder committed in the heat of the moment. No, Callum had wanted Ronan dead for a long time, and he had made sure he would get what he wanted.

But why? Was it a battle over leadership? And why was it mentioned in the letter then? Well, I guess all that matters is that now I have the information that I wanted…

She had solid proof of who exactly killed her brother. That was all she needed to keep going.

Her rage bubbling up inside her and threatening to spill over, Lucia shoved the letter in Alaric’s hands. She, too, was shaking now from head to toe, her fists clenched in her lap, nails biting into the tender skin of her palms. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, as they always did whenever she thought about Ronan for a little too long, but she refused to let them fall. Crying was always a weakness, she had learned. Even as a child, she had known the vulnerability that came with it, the risks she would be taking if she ever appeared weak.

Ronan, why did he have tae take ye?

Lucia would never understand it. What had Ronan done to Callum to deserve this? What had he done that had turned him into a target? And why had it taken Callum months to kill him when he could have done so at any point?

There were so many questions to which Lucia didn’t know the answers, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was revenge and now that she knew for certain Callum was responsible for Ronan’s death, she would finally have it.

“It is time,” she said, “tae continue with the plan.”

Alaric stared at the letter, wide-eyed, for a few moments longer before he dragged his gaze over to Lucia. “What dae ye mean? What is next?”

“I will kill Callum.”

There was no hesitation in her voice. There was no hint of guilt. Why should there be, when Callum had been so cruel to Ronan? Why did Callum deserve to live while her brother had died?

I will kill Callum.

The words had come so easily to Lucia that a chill ran down Alaric’s spine. Within mere minutes, she had gone from a woman filled with joy at discovering the letters to one brimming with rage, blinded by it. Alaric understood her desire to bring Callum to justice; he, too, wanted the same thing, not only for Ronan’s death, but also for everything he had done in his quest to destroy the clans. But bringing him to justice and killing him in cold blood were two entirely different things, and Alaric couldn’t simply agree with Lucia’s plan.

He had killed people before, that much was true. It was impossible to avoid such a thing in battle, after all, but Alaric had never killed a man in cold blood and he didn’t want to start now. Besides, it was a dangerous plan. He could see it in Lucia’s eyes, how she yearned to repay the debt he owed her in blood. He was certain that she was seconds away from trying to kill Callum in his sleep, but he couldn’t let her do that. She would be dead before she could even reach him.

“I cannae allow it,” he said in the end after a short silence.

Lucia let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “I didnae ask fer yer permission. Try an’ stop me an’ ye’ll see what happens.”

Would she not hesitate to draw her blade on him either, Alaric wondered? If he did get in her way, would she stop or would she try to kill him, too?

After all, she hardly needed him anymore. She had used him to infiltrate the Ravencloaks and now she was a part of them. There was nothing left for her to do than get her revenge or die trying.

“Would ye kill me, too, then?” he asked, voicing his thoughts. “Would ye force me out o’ yer way?”

Lucia looked at him for a few long moments, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth and biting on it.

“Ye saw what he wrote in those letters,” Lucia said. “He is workin’ with the king. With the Sassenachs. Dinnae ye want him dead?”

“I want him tae answer fer his crimes,” Alaric said. “It isnae the same.”

“If ye capture him, he will hang,” Lucia pointed out. “What is the point? By killin’ him, I am only makin’ things faster.”

“It isnae the same,” Alaric insisted. Even if the result were the same—Callum dead and unable to continue with his plans or hurt anyone else—doing justice was not in his or Lucia’s hands. He had to answer for his crimes, yes, but not in the way Lucia wanted. “An’ it is dangerous, Lucia. What will any o’ this matter if ye are killed afore ye can kill him? All this effort, wasted. Yer life, wasted. An’ yer braither… he will have nay one tae avenge him or remember him.”

It was that last reason which gave Lucia pause. It struck Alaric then that she didn’t particularly care what happened to her as long as she got her revenge, and the only thing that stopped her from trying to kill Callum in that moment was the thought that she could die before she killed him.

For now, it was good enough for Alaric. If nothing else could convince her to wait and be patient, then this would have to do.

“Fine,” she said in the end, lowering her gaze. “Fine. I willnae dae anythin’ without talkin’ about it with ye first. I promise.”

“Alright,” said Alaric with a small nod, relieved. “Alright. Thank ye, Lucia.”

With a snort, she rolled her eyes at Alaric, pulling her knees up and resting her chin on them. For a moment, Alaric thought she looked terribly vulnerable, like a child who had just lost everything, and his need to protect her was overwhelming. This was a ruthless woman, he reminded himself, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to kill those she deemed guilty, but even that wasn’t enough to stop him from feeling that way towards her.

She had lost too much. Her brother had been the only family she had and he, too, was taken by the man who was sleeping a few tents over, none the wiser. Alaric understood her pain. He carried it as his own, after all.

“Me parents,” Alaric said, clearing his throat and taking a pause as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. “Me parents were killed, too. It was a long time ago, but I ken how it feels.”

Silence stretched over them for a few moments before Lucia reached for him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Who killed them?”

“The Sassenachs,” Alaric said. “They were brutally murdered an’ there was naethin’ I?—”

Alaric couldn’t finish his sentence. Even now, it hurt too much to remember them, to talk about them. He couldn’t speak of the details of their murder. All he could bring himself to say was that they were gone and it was all because of the English.

And now Callum was working with them to hurt even more people, many of whom could be people he loved. No one in the Highlands was safe from them.

“I understand,” Lucia said, her voice soft and low now, lacking all the rage that had tinted it earlier. “I’m sorry.”

Lucia was one of the few people who hadn’t tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t save them or offer him advice or reassure him it would pass, and for that, Alaric was grateful. Her simple words were more comforting than anything else could have been, as was their companionable silence as they sat there together. They didn’t need to exchange any more words. They both knew what the other was going through and that was more than enough.

Eventually, they both fell asleep like that and when Alaric opened his eyes the next morning, he came face to face with Douglas, who was crouching over him and Lucia. Startled, Alaric jumped back, waking Lucia in the process, who screamed when she spotted Douglas so close.

“Good mornin’!” Douglas said, surprisingly cheerful. “Did ye sleep well?”

Alaric glanced at Lucia from the corner of his eye, wondering what it was that Douglas could possibly want from them. “Aye,” he said carefully. “Until ye came an’ stood over us. What dae ye want?”

“Some respect wouldnae harm ye,” Douglas spat as he stood to his full height, Alaric quickly following him so they were eye to eye. “We have an actual plan tae discuss. Ye cannae sleep all day.”

Alaric thought that was hardly fair, since it wasn’t that late. The sun had risen in the horizon, but most of the men were still waking up, shuffling about the camp in search of food and ale. Still, he bit his tongue and only nodded.

“We’re comin’,” he assured Douglas. “Dinnae fash.”

For a long moment, Douglas lingered, his gaze flitting between Alaric and Lucia. Then, he turned on his heel and left, and Alaric shared a look with Lucia, knowing she was wondering the same thing.

What was that? What does he truly want?

As the men gathered around the newly kindled fire, Alaric and Lucia joined them, all of them standing in an irregular semi-circle. The last to join them was Callum, who strolled out of his tent and came to stand before them, hands on his hips.

“There is a villager an’ his family who owe me dues,” he said. “They havenae paid us in months an’ they claim they dinnae have the gold. I say we go an’ see if they’re tellin’ the truth.”

Cheers erupted from the men around Alaric, but he couldn’t bring himself to join in, even as Lucia did. She could play her part well; he couldn’t.

“That’s right,” said Callum. “An’ if there is nae gold, then there’s grain an’ ale an’ women. Maybe we can bring some more lasses intae our ranks, hmm?”

As he spoke, he looked at Lucia with a leer and Alaric took a step closer to her instinctively, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back. He didn’t like that look at all, even if it was nothing but a way to provoke the two of them.

But why would he dae such a thing? He has already accepted us in the group.

“Here is how it’ll go,” said Douglas as he stepped forward, taking over from Callum. “Alaric an’ Lucia will go there, pretendin’ tae be travellers lookin’ fer shelter. They’re already bruised an’ bloody, so chances are, they’ll take pity on them. Once inside, they’ll make sure there are nay weapons in the house an’ then we’ll follow.”

“All o’ us?” one of the men asked, surprised.

With a sigh, Douglas pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nay, o’ course it willnae be all o’ us. Why would we all need tae go there? It’s only a farmer an’ his family. Ye will all receive yer orders in detail. Any other questions?”

Alaric didn’t like the sound of this plan. Something seemed off to him, though he couldn’t quite tell what it was. Lucia, too, seemed tense next to him, as though she was already expecting trouble.

They shared a quick glance, one that was enough to communicate their concerns to each other. They were both thinking the same thing, Alaric knew. Could it be that Callum had figured out they had taken the letters?

But then why would they go to such great lengths to kill them? Surely, if they wanted to, they could kill them right then and there and get it over with, without hiding behind the ruse of an attack. Alaric couldn’t see how such a deception could be useful.

Unless they are afraid o’ us.

The odds were against him and Lucia, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t deal plenty of damage before they were killed. If Callum feared that he would lose too many men trying to murder them, then perhaps he would be willing to go to great lengths in order to trick them.

But they couldn’t refuse the assignment. This was all only speculation from Alaric’s part and if he was wrong—and there was a good chance he was—then they would only be making themselves appear suspicious. They had no choice but to follow Callum’s orders and go through with it.

We will be careful. I will warn Lucia an’ we will be both be ready.

As they prepared for the travel to the cottage, gathering their things and saddling the horses, Alaric couldn’t shake the feeling that all eyes were on them.