Chapter Thirty

"My drops of tears I'll turn to sparks of fire."

William Shakespeare, Henry VIII

Sara,

Since I secreted Eliza out of Dunscaith, Father has treated me like a traitor, but the warriors refuse to act against me. We have an uneasy peace between us. Gilbert is often by his side and the two of them bend over the map of Skye and stop speaking if I come close. Gilbert has tasked the blacksmith with making sure every warrior's sword is sharpened, and the farrier is checking the shoes on every horse at Dunscaith. A catapult has been erected and brought to the bailey as if it will be carted over land.

I think Father is going to war against the MacLeods.

Be safe. Your loving brother, Kenan

Sara looked from the letter in her hand to Jok standing in the doorway of her room. The seal hadn't been broken, so it hadn't been read by anyone else. "Does Rory know I received a letter from Dunscaith?"

He nodded once, suspicion in his eyes. Nothing about the freckled, red-haired warrior was soft or humorous as he waited. Had Rory told him to wait for some reaction from her? Did he expect her to give him the letter to read?

"Kenan doesn't mention the Fairy Flag," she said. "If my father has it, he's not bringing it out yet." Which seemed odd, but he might be worried if he unfurled it or held it up, that would be the third time even if he wasn't marching into battle.

Jok said nothing, just stared at her. Sara exhaled. "I don't know what to do."

Jok crossed his arms, his legs braced. "Ye need to leave Dunvegan."

Her face snapped up to his. "I do?"

"I'll help ye leave, milady. Get ye out safely."

Her lips parted as her heart, which she'd thought was ash, somehow squeezed tighter like an overripe fruit giving way to rot. Was this what Rory wanted? For her to go away?

She swallowed hard, willing the tears swelling in her eyes not to fall. "It isn't safe for me to ride by myself at night," she said, glancing at the darkening window.

"I'll escort ye across on the ferry at dawn," Jok said as if the plan was already in place. "Your horse will be ready."

She looked at Rory's closest friend. "Jok, do you think I'm a Macdonald spy like Madeline? That I seduced Rory to steal the flag?"

She watched him shift in a numb type of haze. His lips opened for several seconds before words came out. "I know only that Rory must have the faith of his people to be the chief. That he cannot have whispers behind his back, milady."

She turned toward the hearth. After a long moment, she heard the door click as Jok left. Her jaw hardened as anger swirled into the place where her heart had shriveled. "I'm going to find that foking flag," she murmured. "And I'm going to…" Stick it up Rory's arse.

She sniffed, wiping her nose. She imagined her riding up with Kenan next to her and dropping the unfurled flag in the dirt at Rory's feet. Then she would turn around and ride away from him forever.

…

"I was tasked to look after ye," Reid said, "and that's what I will do." He nodded, his lips pursed tightly.

He stood before Sara and her horse, Lily, at the edge of Dunvegan Loch. Rory had been nowhere in the castle when Sara had descended from her tower room. She didn't dare wake the twins to say goodbye. Eliza would want to go with her, and it wouldn't be safe.

No one had been in the great hall as she passed, except for Gus whom she'd kissed and shed a tear for. Rory hadn't even come to her room or met her outside to say farewell. The treachery was another dagger in her already ragged heart. One would think with so many piercings to the vital organ, she'd have dropped dead. But, amazingly, she'd woken during the early hours when Jok had knocked on her door.

Jok now held Lily's bridle. "The man was waiting here when I brought yer horse out, milady." He nodded at Reid who stood by a bay horse, fully saddled.

"'Tis my own mount," Reid said. "And even if ye say I must remain here, I'll still follow." The man had two large satchels tied to the back of his horse and a rolled blanket. He looked ready for a journey, one from which he may not return.

Sara was too tired to argue, and the man had been loyal from the start. She nodded. "Very well then, Master Reid. I'll appreciate the company."

He smiled, his shoulders relaxing, and mounted. "This is Jasper."

"My horse is Lily." Sara lifted into the saddle, shoving her boots into the stirrups. She reached down for the bundle that Jok handed her.

"Food and drink."

Sara looked down at him. "Guard his back, Jok. I was not the danger here, and I fear that the true assassin isn't finished."

"I'll lay down my life to protect him, milady," he said, his serious words coming out like a binding oath.

She glanced up at the massive stone fortress that was still a black form in the ebbing night. "He'll need a friend. Someone he can…trust." The last word almost didn't squeeze from her tight throat.

"And here." Jok held a pouch out. "Coins for passage to the mainland and beyond if needed. From Rory."

She stared at the heavy-looking coins. Mainland? Rory didn't just want her gone from Dunvegan. He wanted her gone from the Isle of Skye. She forced herself to breathe and sat straighter, turning her face away. "Tie it to my satchel."

When he did, she pressed into Lily's sides to move forward, but then Sara turned her in a circle. She raised her gaze to Dunvegan, and there on the roof, tall and broad, stood Rory. He didn't raise his arm or nod or do anything to show warmth. Sara shivered at the hardness in his face, the determined look of choosing lies over her truth.

She stared back, her heart seeming to quiver in her chest as if stuck on its normal thumping, because nothing was normal or as it should be. I don't trust anyone . And he never would.

Sara turned Lily, sitting up tall like a queen in a procession, and rode out of town. Reid remained slightly behind. She viewed the waking village from behind a watery veil as tears welled up in her eyes.

Henrietta Blounce stood outside her cottage door, hands on her ample hips. Her frown was meant to eviscerate Sara as she departed.

But Sara was already empty. Her joy and hope had bled out under Rory's cold gaze from above.

…

Morag's crows scattered from the yard as Sara pulled her horse to a stop, quickly dismounting. She untied the coin purse off the satchel. The heavy weight of so many coins felt like a boulder, threatening to pull her underwater. She turned toward the door and called out, "Aunt Morag, 'tis Sara."

Morag opened the door. "Seraphina," she said, glancing at Reid dismounting next to Lily. "What's happened?"

"So much." Sara walked into her aunt's open arms.

Morag wrapped her in a warm, secure hug. "Damn the breakers of hearts." Her words dripped with vehemence.

"He thinks I stole the Fairy Flag and poisoned his brother," she said against her.

"Jamie's dead?" Morag asked, her hand sliding down Sara's arms, pulling back to look into her wet face.

"Yes, poisoned first and smothered when he was taking too long to die."

Morag's face pinched into a hard frown. "And they think you did this."

"Most of the villagers do, but I was here and in the Tower with Rory overnight when Jamie must have ingested the poison."

"But Rory let you go anyway," she said, her eyes narrowing.

She nodded then tilted her head. "Do you know about a Macdonald named Madeline who stole the Fairy Flag ten years ago?"

Morag glanced at Reid and pulled Sara into her cottage, shutting the door before he could follow.

"Yes," she said, leading her to the table so she could sit. "Sorrowful tale. Alasdair, in a fit of rage, sliced her throat."

Sara dropped the coin bag with a thunk on the table. "They all think I'm another Madeline, there to trick Rory into giving up his clan to the Macdonalds."

"Nonsense," Morag said, picking up the bag, weighing it with her hands before dropping it back down.

Sara huffed and stood to pace across the floor. "I think my father has the Fairy Flag, though, even if I don't know how he got it. He's planning to wage war on the MacLeods. Kenan has gotten Eliza to Dunvegan, and Rory says she's safe there."

"He wants you to leave. But where?" Morag asked, glancing out the window.

Sara turned, and her gaze went to the commotion outside where Reid was shooing off some overly interested crows. One swooped down at him, and he ducked, running back to stand next to his horse.

"I can't stay at Dunvegan. I'm returning to Dunscaith to get the Fairy Flag back."

Morag pivoted, piercing her with sharp eyes. "Walter will kill you, no matter that you are his true daughter. Don't lie to yourself that he won't."

Sara closed her eyes for a moment. "Kenan is there. He will help me."

Morag's hand clasped like a manacle around her wrist. "As soon as you arrive, he will take you prisoner before you can even look for the flag."

At least Dunscaith's dungeon wasn't a watery pit. "I have little choice," she said. "And I must do something. I'm not a hider."

A grim smile pulled Morag's lips into a thin line. "No, you're not a hider. You're braver than my sister." She caught Sara's cheek in her palm. "You're made of fire, Seraphina. 'Twas why your mother named you after the great angels, a fiery warrior of God."

Sara smiled. A splinter of laughter broke from her lips. "I was a newborn when she named me. It was because of the birthmark on my back that looks like fire."

Morag shrugged. "That, too." She took Sara's shoulders and squeezed as if trying to push her encouragement into her. "But you're also a flame of light and truth, and full of bravery. Your mother is proud."

Her words made Sara's eyes ache again. "I won't let my father tear me apart, too."

"You're the Flame of Dunscaith," Morag said and gave her a firm nod. She released Sara to go to a large clay jar on her shelf. Something clattered inside as she tipped it, and an iron key fell into her palm. She returned and held it before Sara's face. "It opens almost any door." She put it in Sara's hand and curled her fingers around it. "In case you must escape."

A yelp drew their gazes to the window. Outside, Reid flapped his arms with a look of panic pinching his face as the crows dived down at him. He covered his head with one arm and pranced around, his thin, long limbs looking rather spider-like.

Morag tilted her head. "Now, who is this person with you?"

…

The journey to Dunscaith would take two days. As they rode along the snaking river, neither Reid nor Sara voiced the worry that her father and Gilbert might meet them with an army marching north along the known trail. But as she crested each hill, Sara held her breath.

Exhausted and hungry, Sara followed Reid to a squat structure made of stone that was used by sheep farmers in the winter. It was dry if not warm, and Reid had brought more foodstuffs than she had, sharing them. He also walked to the river to haul fresh water for them to wash. Sara watched Reid add a couple thin, cut tree limbs he'd brought in one of his big satchels to the fire.

"Thank you," she said when he handed her a bladder of fresh water.

"I would see ye safely home, milady."

She frowned, glancing up at him. "I might be imprisoned when I get home." She could just leave Skye, but, no, she'd find that damn flag, or at least try. Let Rory see how bloody wrong he was about her.

Reid crossed his arms, gripping himself as if he were cold. "Master Kenan will keep ye safe."

Sara bit into a piece of cheese. "Do you know my brother?" Her voice sounded gravelly from disuse since she hadn't spoken since leaving Morag's.

Reid opened his mouth twice but closed it each time. He turned to the doorway. "I'll be right back." He headed out into the night. The man was nervous by nature, and riding into enemy territory must be adding to his discomfort.

"I'll get his damn flag," she whispered in the empty hovel. And then what? She'd have to leave Skye. The thought made the pit of her stomach grow hollow again. Not that she was sad to leave Dunscaith, but leaving Eliza, Eleri, and Kenan would be hard. And leaving Rory… I won't think about it.

She wiped at the few escaped tears with such force one might think she was slapping herself. I won't cry for him, the man who cannot trust. "That's it. I'll pity him." He'd certainly hate that.

Her sorrow hardened to stone. Fury was strength and sorrow was weakness, and right now she needed strength. Bloody hell! She'd saved Rory's life in the chapel by crawling under when the whole thing could have collapsed on her and knowing that her father would take revenge on her for ruining his plans. She'd shown him the flaming birthmark on her back, had let him touch it, kiss it. She'd trusted him, but he hadn't trusted her.

"Dammit," she muttered, shaking with anger. "No," she chided and wrapped the blanket around herself, rolling to her side before the fire. I won't think about him.

They started out early the next day, and by noon they broke through the tree line into the far reaches of Macdonald territory. Her father's scouts were there even if they weren't seen.

"Please let Kenan be here." Her prayer was caught in the wind tugging her hair out behind her. Reid kept his horse even with her, and his face was pinched with intensity.

Sara slowed her horse to a walk, and Reid followed suit. She looked over at his earnest face. "Turn back, Reid. Ride home to Dunvegan. There's nothing but torture and death at Dunscaith for a MacLeod."

His face reddened. "I will stay by yer side, milady."

She shook her head. "You will die, Reid. I won't have your blood on my hands."

He swallowed and then sniffed, glancing outward toward the castle perched on the edge of the sea before them. "My mother was a Macdonald, Lady Sara."

She stared at him. "But you've been with the MacLeods. You said you came from Lewis." Confusion made her speak quickly. Was no one what they seemed?

"I've lived in many places and not at Dunscaith for…some time."

"Then you're still in danger, Reid."

He smiled sadly at her. "We're all made to die, milady, and I would do so doing something worthy and honorable." Lips pinched, he glanced away from her, looking back at his bulky satchels tied to Jasper.

Sara sighed. "You're brave, honorable, and true."

His face snapped back to her, his eyes wide and tortured as if she'd slapped him. She watched him swallow hard before looking forward.

Ahead, several Macdonald scouts entered the path leading to the castle. "He'll know we are here now. May God keep us safe."

"Amen," Reid murmured.

They rode the rest of the way in a rolling canter, and Sara watched as the warriors swarmed out from the walls surrounding Dunscaith. Like Kenan had said, there was a catapult next to the wall with dozens of ropes tied to it. It was ready to roll toward Dunvegan, but her father hadn't yet started his campaign.

If she could only find the flag before then. At best, she'd escape with it, returning it to the MacLeods. At worst, she'd destroy it so her father couldn't unfurl it.

Perhaps I should let Father use the damn flag against them.

The thought made her stomach sour. There was anger and then there was dishonor, and Sara would never cross that line.

As they clopped along the winding path through the village, curtains fluttered in windows and frightened people peeked from cracked shutters. Did they think she was bringing war to their village? Sara felt like yelling, "I'm trying to stop a war," but instead, she kept her gaze forward and her back straight. She'd grown up with these people, danced around the maypole with them and walked between Samhain bonfires together. Had her father poisoned them against her?

One window sat unshuttered, and she saw her friend, Beatrice, looking out at her with a mix of fear and sorrow on her face. Sara met her eyes but couldn't speak. Beatrice fidgeted there, her hand raising halfway to give a little wave. Sara mimicked the gesture, riding on.

Sara guided Lily over the bridge, under the portcullis, and into the bailey of Dunscaith Castle. Reid followed, keeping Jasper behind her. She concentrated on remaining still and expressionless when her father, flanked by Gilbert, walked out of the keep. Where was Kenan? Her stomach tumbled.

"Why are ye here?" Walter asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Sara!" Kenan called as he jogged up from behind her. Her eyes closed briefly in relief, and she exhaled some of the tension she'd been holding. He lifted her down from Lily's back and wrapped her in a hug. "'Tis not safe for ye here," he said near her ear.

Behind them, Reid dismounted, going to his largest satchel. Did he think to unleash some type of weapon? She should have warned him not to. If he, a MacLeod, brandished a weapon before the simmering anger of the Macdonald chief, her father would have him shot through with an arrow with a mere incline of his head.

"Let go of her, Kenan," their father called. "Present yerself, woman, to yer chief and father."

With a squeeze, Kenan released her, and they walked forward together.

They stopped several feet before Walter and Sara spoke. "My betrothed at Dunvegan is dead." Sara kept her expression stony. "I have no place there."

"So ye return here?" Gilbert asked, his deep voice tinged with accusation. "When ye're a traitor to Clan Macdonald?"

"I am no traitor."

"And where is Eliza?" Gilbert continued.

"Safe with her…" She glanced at her father. "With her twin sister who was raised at Dunvegan."

"What the bloody hell," Gilbert said, his face swinging toward Walter.

Walter walked closer, and she was grateful that Kenan stood beside her. She saw Reid come closer out of the corner of her eye. Her father's face was red, spittle on his lower lip. "I had them locked in that chapel," Walter said, not even bothering to show a response to the truth about Eliza. "The smoke would've taken them within minutes, the whole leadership of Clan MacLeod wiped out in one bloodless plan." He threw his arm out as if wiping away a meaningless fly. Bloodless? Perhaps, but deadly and dishonorable.

Sara saw Father Lockerby standing behind. His narrowed eyes rested on all of them, judging them as if he truly were God, ready to hurl them into Hell.

Sara focused her gaze on her father. "By burning a house of God?" She shook her head. "'Twas dishonorable."

Walter continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Ye gave them a way out and actually helped drag them to safety!" His voice had risen so that by the end, he was shouting. "Saving those I had already condemned. In so doing, ye've brought war to Dunscaith."

"No, Father," she said. Her arm swung out to indicate the catapult they both knew was on the other side of the wall. "Your actions have brought war to our people."

Walter raised his massive fist and swung it toward her face. Sara had time to squeeze her eyes shut, anticipating the jaw-breaking pain. But it didn't come. She opened her eyes to see Kenan forcing Walter's hand down. Gilbert slid his sword from his sheath.

Kenan's hand remained wrapped around their father's fist, but he turned his gaze on his brother. "Put that away, little brother, or know I will slice yer arm off today." And maybe his head. He didn't say it, but Sara heard the threat there. Hopefully Gilbert did, too, because she'd never known Kenan to give idle threats.

"Let go of me," Walter said, his face a shade of red that bespoke punishment and death.

"Don't strike her," Kenan said.

"She's a traitor. I can slice her open if I want."

"Nay, good sir." The wavering voice came from behind Sara. Reid cleared his throat. "She's no traitor to ye." Sara's already clenched stomach quivered with panic for the thin man who was mostly arms and legs without muscle.

Walter yanked his fist back from Kenan. Reid walked forward holding a wooden box. He didn't look at her but kept his gaze pinned to her father.

"Aren't ye supposed to be at Dunvegan?" Walter asked, waving away Gilbert who seemed ready to take on the unarmed, fragile-looking man.

Sara began to shield Reid but stopped.

Supposed to be at Dunvegan? Her father knew Reid? And knew he should be at Dunvegan?

Reid cleared his throat. "I came with Lady Seraphina because she asked me to carry this. She brought ye this to assure yer victory."

Sara's inhale stopped as Reid lifted the lid, swinging it back on little iron hinges. He tilted it toward Walter.

"Oh, Reid," she whispered, her shoulders curling with the pain of regret in her chest. What had he done?

"What is this?" Walter asked, but a calmness in his voice said he had a guess.

"'Tis the great Fairy Flag, milord," Reid said. "Yer daughter stole it for ye. So ye see, Lady Seraphina is no traitor to Clan Macdonald."