12. Shackles of Guilt

12

SHACKLES OF GUILT

T aryn took an instinctive step back, then two, then three. She hated how much James’ words affected her. He had made it clear from the very beginning of this entire trip that his good opinion of her had vanished years ago, but knowing that no matter what she did, she could never regain it stole her breath.

“I will give ye five minutes to collect yerself,” he told her cooly. “And then we set off again.”

“I thought ye said the horse needed to rest.”

Her argument slipped out before she could think better of it.

“He does. But it is verra likely that those bounty hunters will be back. I dinnae intend on being here when they return.”

Taryn busied herself with washing the blood off her face and hands, quickly rebraiding her knotted hair, and tugging her cloak back around her shoulders. Meanwhile, James buttoned his jacket and sheathed his sword. He then snapped off a branch full of limbs and dead leaves overhead and pulled out some rope. She wanted to ask what he was doing, but kept her mouth closed this time.

At his insistence, they walked to the road, venturing onto it for the first time during this journey. Once there, she mounted and waited to see what he would do. Calmly, as if his actions made all the sense in the world, James tied the branch to the lower third of the horse’s tail, letting it trail behind them. He then moved to her side, a fresh piece of rope in his hands and wound it around her wrists once more. Any hope she might have had at proving herself trustworthy vanished when he tugged on the knot to ensure it was secure.

How will I be able to defend myself should those attackers come back?

She was truly beginning to question his sanity until James climbed into the saddle, and they set off walking.

Twisting around to see, she watched as the branch erased their trail almost as quickly as they made it. When she looked at James over her shoulder, he raised an eyebrow, daring her to make a comment. Taryn said nothing, even as she sent up a silent prayer of thanks, knowing that they were safe from at least one villain.

They rode well into the night before stopping for a few hours to rest. The sun came up much sooner than she would have liked, but she didn’t dare complain as they climbed into the saddle yet again and started riding. Avoiding the roads meant that she had been entirely unaware of just how close they were to McGregor lands until they crossed into them.

“Och,” she said in a surprised whisper. “We will be there before the midday meal.”

“Aye.”

It was a response she should have seen coming from James. Apart from their few conversations that often turned into arguments, he had only given her single syllable answers. But her realization felt so much larger than one word. Their arrival at the McGregor Castle would mean the end of her freedom. Her three years of roaming, of being able to do as she pleased was quickly coming to an end. Her life would never be the same now that they crossed the McGregor borders.

Of course, she had known that her life was invariably changed the second James had kidnapped her. But it hadn’t hit her just how different things were going to be until now. She had thought, perhaps a bit foolishly, that their travels would take several more days.

A knot, low and gnarly, settled in her gut. Sweat broke out along the base of her skull that no amount of winter wind could stop. For a moment, she wondered if James could sense just how nervous she was now. He always seemed to be able to tell exactly what she was feeling, often before she did. If he did, he didn’t say anything.

Her eyes stayed glued to the road, unable to let any part of it pass without taking notice. The closer to the castle they got, the worse the road conditions became. Giant holes that would have easily upturned a cart peppered the trail. Bridges had been washed away and left unrepaired, forcing them to find another way around. The few houses they did come across had been long since abandoned. None of this seemed to be a shock to James, but to Taryn it completely ruined the image of her clan she’d held in her mind these past three years.

“What have I done?” she asked, mostly to herself.

Before James could answer, a smattering of mud hit the side of her face. Taryn jolted in shock from the blow.

“Traitor!”

The harsh accusation came from a wrinkled and hunched old woman with hands so gnarled, were it not for the mud staining them, Taryn never would have thought her capable of holding anything.

With tears pricking her eyes, Taryn silently brushed the mud off her face.

“He is back!”

“James has brought her back!”

“Coward!”

“We are saved”

The villagers shouted out a mix of praises for James’ feat of finding and returning Taryn to the clan and sheer hatred of Taryn. Some threw things at her, others spat as they rode past, while some ignored her entirely and cheered for James.

She wished she could say that their jeers were the worst part of the ride to the castle, but the state of the village hurt her far more than their words ever could. Everywhere she looked there were signs of poverty. Gardens overgrown and forgotten, some entirely barren. Houses shuttered with blankets stuffed over windows to keep the heat in. Mothers in clothes too small and in tatters while their children shivered despite their best efforts. Every face looked to be skin and bones, no one spared from such a fate.

If their words affected James, he showed no sign of it. Not once did he respond with a smile or flinch when someone hurled something at Taryn. His hands stayed steady on the reins as he guided them through the small town and towards the castle that had once been her home.

Once upon a time, she had seen the stone-faced building as a menacing prison where she was expected to look and act a certain way, never putting down her guard. It was a fortress to her, one that kept her locked inside and the world so far away. Now, as she stared up at it from the saddle, James’ arms half tucked around her fending off the cold, all she could see were the crumbling rocks and the roof that was in desperate need of repair. The McGregor Castle was sad and old, having taken quite the beating from her years of absence and the constant attacks from the baron.

“I never imagined…” she started to say, a hand half covering her opened mouth. “I did nae ken things had gotten so bad. I-I dinnae ken; otherwise I would have come back.”

“Well, now ye ken. What are ye going to do about it?”

“I told ye,” she answered, steeling herself. “I will do whatever I must to ensure Laura is returned safely, and the clan is left to rebuild.”

James hummed as if he were truly considering her answer for the first time, as if it had taken until now for him to truly believe that she wanted to do the right thing.

“Taryn, I?—”

The wide wooden doors to the castle swung open, cutting off whatever James was going to say next. There was a hint of regret, perhaps even sadness, in the way he had said her name, but she didn’t have time to think about that now. Standing on the highest steps of the courtyard were her uncle and her parents.

She had thought about this moment countless times over the years she had been gone. She had always wondered if her parents would greet her with open arms filled with relief, or if they would cry tears of joy. From their stony faces and crossed arms, she no longer had to wonder. Fury and irritation were to be her welcome. It was no less than what she deserved, but it still stung.

“Take her to the hall,” Laird McGregor ordered as soon as James’ horse was within earshot.

The guard that had been surrounding him moved as a unit to pull her out of the saddle. Two hands gripped each arm so tightly that she was sure there would be bruises. She was grateful for them nonetheless; without those men holding her up, she would have tumbled to the ground as soon as her feet hit the icy cobblestone. Her hands still tied in front of her made her an easy enough puppet to pull around. She didn’t bother putting up a fight, no matter how much her pride screamed at her to demand better treatment.

Knowing without question that his orders would be carried out, her uncle, Laird McGregor, spun on his heel and marched into the castle. Her parents followed quickly after, sending her a look of disdain as they turned. With the guards all but carrying her, Taryn had no choice but to obey.

The foyer was missing the warm, colorful rug that had once greeted guests and the large paintings of their ancestors from long ago. There were empty hooks on the walls where other paintings, swords, and other artifacts had been taken down until the entire space was nearly bare. Every hallway, every room they passed looked much the same. She was nearly expecting for the Great Hall to be bereft too, a testament to just how far things had gone. But when the guards pushed her down the two little steps that signaled the entrance of the Great Hall, she was surprised that very little had changed.

There were a few less tables and the floors felt a bit dirtier than she knew her mother preferred. The candles in the candelabra overhead were nearly melted down, but those were the only signs that anything was amiss. The coat of arms still hung over the massive fireplace. She took in the large tree, the small acorns hidden in the branches, and its thick, curved roots that made up the center of the image. A sword went through the tree that matched the blue and yellow feathers of the helmet that sat proudly over the shield. Wood was still stacked neatly beside the hearth. Someone had even gone through the trouble of spreading some pine needles down the length of the tables for festive cheer. But that wasn’t what caught her eye.

In the center of the room was a large chair, ornately carved with symbols and scrolls she had long ago been taught the meaning of. Her uncle sat, his shoulders not as straight and tall as they once had been, but still just as stately. On either side of him stood her parents. Each one of them was still clothed in rich fabrics of deep colors, though they seemed to be a few years old. Jewels hanging from her mother’s neck glimmered in the firelight, while her uncle and father sported several gemstone rings.

The guards, ever vigilant in carrying out their duties, deposited Taryn to the space in front of the throne. Their hands uncurled from around the tops of her arms and she nearly fell over. A startled grunt came from somewhere behind her and a split second later, James was at her side, steadying her. His touch was exceedingly more gentle than the guards’, but caused an ache all the same. She gave him a resolute nod, surprised to find uncertainty in his rich green eyes.

“James,” the Laird spoke. “I thank ye for the service ye have done for yer clan. I will see to it that ye are rewarded accordingly. Now, yer duty is finished. Step aside so we may deal with this traitor.”

Hesitantly, for only a second, James looked first at Laird McGregor and then at her. Whatever he was searching for, he must have found it as he let go and moved several yards away, though stayed in the room.

“How dare ye,” her mother began.

In all her years, Taryn had heard mother angry on numerous occasions. She had been icy and direct, unfeeling and unforgiving. But never had her mother spoken with such venom. Those three little words struck directly to Taryn’s core, rattling her more than she cared to admit. The Laird’s hand shot up, effectively silencing her mother, but somehow, Taryn knew whatever he had to say would be worse.

“Ye are, without a doubt, the most selfish, vain, thoughtless creature I have ever had the misfortune of kenning.”

She winced with nearly every word, each of them landing like a blow.

“I have treated ye as if ye were my own, clothing ye, housing ye, seeing to yer education, all so ye would be fit to be my heir. From the moment ye were born, we all made sure ye kent that yer singular role in this clan was to secure the future for everyone.”

Taryn kept her mouth shut, biting her tongue so hard that a metallic taste ran down her throat.

“And then, when the moment finally came, when it was time for ye to do what ye have been preparing for yer entire life, ye leave. Ye decide to be unbelievably selfish and run away for nay reason at all other than yer own desires.

I did nae realize my desire to live was so wrong.

Taryn wasn’t given the chance to voice her thoughts. Instead, her father stepped forward and started his beratements.

“Did ye nae stop to think of what this would do to us? Yer running away made yer mother and I look as though we were nae capable of raising an obedient child. Ye made us out to be fools. Nae to mention all the trouble this has caused the rest of the clan.”

There was no love in her father’s eyes. If there was any gladness for their reunification, it was only so that they could put a stop to the chaos. It had very little to do with her as their daughter, as a person.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, silently absorbing the blows they dealt with their words. It felt like hours. Yet, they hardly spoke of the suffering of the clan. There was no mention of the raids or the attacks. They spoke mainly of their reputations, their pride, and the infringement of their lifestyle.

What stung was their complete lack of care for her. It was an entirely different thing than when James had first told her of the state of the McGregor Clan. He had made her heart ache with sympathy for all those who had suffered at the hands of Baron Dudley. The sight of it all as they rode through the village had crushed her spirit.

When she risked a glance at her father, the disappointment she saw there was her undoing. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She refused to make any noise, not wanting anyone to think she was putting on a show or vying for sympathy of her own. But she could do nothing to hide the fact that she felt incredibly guilty and bereft for how things had turned out.

The deep ache that had started when James had first told her everything that had happened after she left only grew deeper the longer she stood there, confronting everything that had gone wrong for her parents and Laird.

“I must send word at once to Baron Dudley that his betrothed has at long last returned and is now ready to do her duty. We must all hope and pray that he will still have ye. That all of this can finally be put to rest.”

It was then that Taryn saw the deep lines of worry etched into her uncle’s temples and the skin peeking out from around his thin, gray hair. He looked so much older, so much more worn that he ever had before.

“What will we do with her until we get a response?”

It was her mother who had asked, refusing to so much as acknowledge that Taryn was still in the room with them. They were all making it very clear that Taryn was no longer a person to them, but a means to an end.

“Lock in her the cells. I want to be sure she will nae escape a second time.”

Taryn’s eyes shot up to her uncle in horror. She knew they were angry, and she knew they had every right to be, but she never thought she would be treated as a prisoner. The guards moved to do as their Laird commanded, and panic engulfed Taryn.

Knowing she wasn’t going to get any help from her parents, she sought out the only other person who might defend her. But James had his eyes glued to the floor, his hands clenched in fists as he rocked back and forth, ever so slightly. Everything about his posture, from the inward curve of his shoulders to the furrowed brow told her that he was not at all comfortable with the way things were going, but still, he did nothing to stop it.

“Wait,” she protested, the word coming out a mangled cry. “Please, dinnae do this.”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears, the guards ever obedient and her uncle already engrossed in conversation with her parents about their next move. Those same vice grips wrapped around her arms once more and started to pull her out of the hall. They moved so quickly that her feet dragged out in front of her, unable to keep up.

Before they rounded the corner, her eyes locked with James’ one last time. He wore an expression she couldn’t discern, his eyes nearly glowing. Any hope she might have had that he would put a stop to all of this vanished the moment they left the Great Hall and trudged off towards the dungeon.

The cold, dank air of the cell hit her in a wave of despair. This was where people came to be forgotten about, that much was clear from the rags that passed as a cot and the waste in the corner of her cell. She couldn’t remember the last time Laird McGregor had ordered someone to be brought down here. It seemed like such a cruel, heartless thing to do, but after seeing the ruin of the clan, she wondered if this truly was what she deserved.

“There,” the guard said with a smug note of satisfaction. “Now ye are exactly where ye should be, with nay chance of running from yer duties.”

Slamming the iron door shut and turning the key destroyed the last of Taryn’s freedom. She knew she was never going to walk out of that cell the same woman. The guard walked away, leaving her in the freezing, dark room. Tears continued to fall from her face, and Taryn, sinking to the floor, fell too.