Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

A fter leaving Alaric’s chambers, Lucia had returned to her own. She was perched on the edge of the bed, and hadn’t moved a single muscle since she had sat down. She didn’t know how much time had passed. The room was just as dark now as when she had first entered it, illuminated by nothing but the fire that burned in the fireplace and whatever light poured in through the window from the torches the solders carried with them as they patrolled the grounds. Outside, she could still hear the bustle of people as everyone assessed the damage done to the castle by the Ravencloaks and kept an eye out for any signs of them approaching once more.

I did this. I brought them here.

Perhaps it had been Alaric’s idea and decision to come to the castle, but Lucia had said nothing against it. She hadn’t tried to warn him nor had she tried to dissuade him, even if she had always known the Ravencloaks would follow them. Now that they had caught their scent, they wouldn’t rest until both of them were dead.

She had known all this, and yet she had retreated to the safety of Castle MacGregor. Even now, even after all the guilt at the thought that she had been using Alaric and lying to him, she was still acting like a coward, following Alaric’s orders to stay inside the castle, where she would be safe.

He had been right, she thought. She could have gone after Callum on her own and perhaps she could have even managed to kill him, but she had not had the guts to do it alone. That was why she had turned to Alaric in the first place and why she had dragged him into all this. Had she been braver, had she believed in herself and her skills more, then none of this would have happened. No one would have attacked Clan MacGregor. Their food storages would still be full of grain and there would be no concerns of famine.

And, of course, she would have never met Alaric. In a way, she would have considered that a blessing. At least if they had never met, she would have never known the pain that now tore her up from the inside, as insidious as it was unbearable, a feeling worse than any physical injury she had ever sustained. It was the kind of ache from which she feared she would never recover, much like the ache that came with Ronan’s death. This, too, was a loss. No matter how much time passed, these were wounds that would never heal.

I am a fool. What would Ronan think about me if he kent what I’ve done?

Her brother had been a good man, despite what others thought. He would have disapproved of her plans; of everything she had done to get revenge.

A knock on the door pulled Lucia out of her thoughts. At first, she was certain it had to be a maid or perhaps even a soldier, but when the door opened, it was none other than Alaric, standing there, lingering near the door as though he was reluctant to come any farther into the room. Upon seeing him, Lucia’s heart thundered in her chest, beating erratically as it never had before. This was no excitement, though; she knew excitement well, as she had come to familiarize herself with it in the time she had spent by Alaric’s side. This was closer to dread, to the kind of feeling she got whenever a blade came too close to her throat or a punch she hadn’t expected to land found its target on her painfully.

She held no hope in her heart for her and Alaric. Everything had already collapsed around her and now he had come to deliver his final judgement.

“I have given it much thought,” Alaric said, his voice soft and gentle, but at the same time unwavering. Here it was, Lucia thought. This was everything she had feared from the moment she had begun to fall for him. “An’ I cannae dae this, Lucia. I cannae. Love isnae enough tae fix this.”

O’ course. I kent this was comin’.

But even though she knew it, it still hurt. Alaric’s words were like a dagger to her heart, so painful that she was glad she was already seated. Had she been standing, she didn’t know if her legs would have held her, as even now, the world went dark at the edges for a moment, her grief and panic getting the better of her.

She had nothing left. She had no family, no life, and the man she loved now despised her.

Nay… nay, it isnae true. I still have one thing left.

Revenge.

As long as she had this goal, to avenge Ronan, then she could still keep going and would not rest. What would come after was a mystery even to her. All that mattered for now was that she still had a goal; she still had something to achieve and she was going to throw her entire self to the task.

After all, why should she hold herself back now? Alaric had been the one to insist she shouldn’t kill Callum and that he had to be tried for his crimes. Alaric had been the one to insist she shouldn’t stain her hands with blood, but her hands had already been stained a long time ago. What did one more death matter? What difference would one more victim make?

Callum didn’t deserve anything but a painful death, and now that Lucia was free from the shackles of her love for Alaric, she could finally deliver her own justice.

All it took was a deep breath for her to compose herself. She had been through so much pain in her life—great and small, from the kind of minor inconvenience that came with her way of life to the unbearable, unbridled grief of losing the last of her family. She could endure this, too. She had to endure it if she was going to get what she wanted.

“Very well,” she said. There was no point in fighting Alaric’s decision. He had made up his mind and any arguments would only deepen the chasm between them. “I understand. I will leave the castle, then.”

“Nay,” said Alaric hastily, shaking his head. “Nay, ye cannae leave yet. It isnae safe. But as soon as we deal with the Ravencloaks…”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence for Lucia to know what he was trying to tell her. As soon as the Ravencloaks were gone, she had to be gone as well.

Little did Alaric know she would be gone much sooner.

Sneaking out of the castle was an easy task, much easier than Lucia would have thought. No one bothered her as she walked through the courtyard and made her way to the back of the castle, where the walls were not as heavily guarded, even now after the attack. On her first day there, she had made a point of finding every hiding spot and every route out of the castle, so now she knew exactly where to head—near the kitchens, where there was a small, barricaded door. Once there, she made sure to remain hidden in the shadows, plastering herself against the walls so that she would remain unseen by any guards that patrolled the area. She didn’t know if any of them would try to stop her, but she didn’t want to find out. If they did or if they notified Alaric, then she would never be able to sneak out and track down Callum, as was her plan.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded close to her and Lucia swiftly slid into the shadows, in a small nook near the kitchen doors. She waited with bated breath as two guards walked by, surveying the area, and she prayed to God that they wouldn’t notice her. It was only when they walked past her, disappearing into the near distance, that she finally relaxed. With them gone, she continued on her way and soon found the small door, picking the lock open and slipping outside.

She had nothing with her but her tools, her sword, and the clothes on her back. Callum couldn’t be far. After the attack, he would remain close to the castle, and Lucia was determined to find him, even if it would take her all night.

With no torch to illuminate her path, Lucia only had the moonlight as her guide. The night was dark, though, and the deeper she went into the woods, the scarcer the light became, making her trek through the trees and the roots that peeked over the ground, a treacherous one. Several times, she lost her footing, slipping on the damp ground or having her foot catch on one of those roots, and each time she barely had the coordination to keep herself from falling. Still, she persevered, refusing to let it stop her. Nothing would put an end to her plan now. She had a goal and she was determined to see it through.

After a long while of searching, so long that Lucia could only think that dawn was close to breaking, she caught a glimpse of a fire burning deeper in the woods. It was cold there, and the entire time, she had been holding her cloak tightly around her shoulders, trying to battle some of the chill, but now there was nothing on her mind but the fact that she had found the Ravencloaks. They were deep in the woods, hidden from sight, but there was no doubt in her mind it was them. Who else could it be there, waiting in the middle of the night?

Any discomfort she had felt, exhaustion, thirst and cold, no longer mattered. Her hand tightened around her sword and she slowly made her way towards the light of the fire only to find a large camp there, in the clearing that stood in her path. Several men were still awake or had already woken up for the day, all of them clad in the dark cloaks of the Ravencloaks.

There ye are. I’ve found ye.

Callum was right there, in their midst. He sat near the fire, a smug, self-satisfied smile on his lips, and Lucia’s fury burned bright like those flames. She knew she couldn’t approach stealthily. There was nowhere to hide and the entire camp was crawling with Ravencloaks. Someone was bound to see her. The only thing she could count on was the possibility that Callum wanted to fight her himself, since he had already expressed his desire to kill her and Alaric with his own two hands. If she announced her presence, if she challenged him, then perhaps she could defeat him without anyone else interfering.

As long as Callum wasn’t a coward who would refuse to fight her.

Taking a decisive step forward, Lucia revealed herself at the edge of the camp. It took a few moments for someone to notice her, but once a few of the men did, they drew their swords instantly, stepping forward and catching the attention of everyone else at the same time.

“I’m nae here tae fight any o’ ye, save fer Callum Fraser,” she said, standing her ground. “If ye wish tae be in me way, so be it. I will strike ye all down until I get tae him.”

Laughter echoed around the clearing and Lucia’s gaze slid to Callum, who was the one laughing. He stood, making his way towards her as he motioned to his men to stand down. They did so reluctantly, a few of them taking some steps back while others remained close, clearly wondering if retreating was the right thing to do. Callum, though, seemed entirely unfazed by her presence. Perhaps he had even been expecting her, Lucia thought, ridiculous as that sounded.

“Well, ye’re just like yer brother, are ye nae?” Callum asked with a heavy sigh. “So stubborn. Even Laird MacGregor’s men cannae find us, but ye did.”

“I ken how ye work,” Lucia pointed out with a shrug. If there was anyone in the world who could track the Ravencloaks, it was her. She knew their patterns. She knew their hiding spots and what they preferred when they were in enemy territory. The only reason it had taken her this long to find them was because in the dark, losing one’s way was easier than finding it.

“Aye, that much is true,” said Callum with a sage nod. “Ronan taught ye everythin’, right? Ye’re the one who was helpin’ him all along.”

It wasn’t a question and Lucia neither confirmed nor denied it. She had seen Callum before, when her brother was still alive, watching one of their meetings from the shadows, but Callum never knew she existed. It was only now that Lucia had revealed her identity to him that he could piece the puzzle together, understanding just how much of an important role Lucia had played in the plans of the Ravencloaks.

“Ronan’s stubbornness is what killed him,” Callum said. “We could have ruled the Highlands together. We could have taken over everythin’ if only he wasnae so against the Sassenachs. But he’s dead now an’ ye’ll follow him soon, stubborn as ye are.”

Bile rose to the back of Lucia’s throat. Callum spoke so casually about dominating the Highlands and she knew he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Ronan had never wanted to live under the influence of the English or the king. He would have never accepted a deal between the Ravencloaks and the English, and so Callum had disposed of him with no hesitation.

“Ye speak as though me braither would ever stand by yer side,” Lucia spat, sneering at Callum. “He was naethin’ like ye. He would never have agreed tae any o’ yer plans.”

“Och, but he did,” said Callum. “He agreed tae plenty o’ them. Ye may nae wish tae believe it, but yer braither was a good friend. I appreciated both his company an’ his intellect. It’s such a shame that I had tae kill him.”

Lucia stared at Callum in shock, dumbfounded by what she had heard. Surely, Callum couldn’t be serious, she thought. How could he claim to be Ronan’s friend when he had killed him in cold blood? Lucia knew her brother and she knew he would never be friends with a beast like Callum.

“Are ye surprised?” Callum asked, laughing once more. The sound was cold and cruel, like a clang of a sword in Lucia’s ears. “Yer braither was a criminal, like the rest o’ us. He was the heart o’ the Ravencloaks. How can ye be surprised that we were friends?”

“Ye lie!” Lucia said, but even she couldn’t deny the waver in her voice. She, too, had been a crucial member of the Ravencloaks, after all, even if no one was aware of her involvement with the gang until now. She had committed her fair share of crimes, but she couldn’t reconcile the idea of the Ronan in her head being the same as the Ronan Callum claimed to know. Her brother was not like Callum. He had a sense of honor. She still held onto the belief that her brother had been a good man; he was the kind of man who would never have associated himself with the likes of Callum.

Before Callum could say anything else, Lucia, in her rage, charged at him with all her might, her sword clutched tightly in her fist. Callum wasted no time before he parried the blow, using a movement that was terribly familiar to Lucia.

He trained with Ronan. He kens all o’ Ronan’s moves.

She, too, had trained with Ronan. He had been the one to teach her everything she knew, but if Callum knew the same strategies, the same attacks and blocks, then she couldn’t defeat him through technique or strength. She had to be fast; she had to be brutal and she had to rely on the element of surprise if she wanted to defeat him.

Gritting her teeth, Lucia dealt attack after attack, viciously moving towards Callum as she tried to corner him. Callum was a big man, so he wasn’t as fast as Lucia, not as lithe and limber. Many of the attacks she delivered were close shots, barely missing the mark as Callum stepped out of the way at the last possible moment. When she managed to injure him, her blade cutting his sleeve open and slicing his flesh, several men stepped forward and for a moment, Lucia thought that would be it; they would subdue her, all of them attacking her at the same time, and she would have no choice but to surrender.

But then, Callum yelled, “Get back! She’s mine.”

His free hand clutched at his injured arm, drops of blood pouring over his fingers as he panted, trying to catch his breath. His men listened to him, clearing out more space for the two of them. They trusted Callum; they trusted his skills. Even with Lucia’s draw of first blood, they didn’t think he could lose to her.

Lucia knew better than to think he was invincible, but she, too, was quickly getting out of breath. His vicious attacks had already taken a toll on her. Sweat dripped down her forehead and her chest heaved as she tried to draw more and more air into her lungs, determined as she was to end Callum’s life herself. Even if she lost her life in the process, nothing else mattered as long as she could have her revenge.

“Come, then!” Callum shouted, his voice ringing out in the clearing. “Come! Kill me if ye can!”

With a battle cry, Lucia threw herself at him once more, sword raised high, her rage coiled around her like a living, breathing thing.