“She must have taken it with her.” The realization of where she had gone struck Ian with the force of a blow to the chest. “God help me, she’s headed for Stirling.”
Ian heard light steps on the stairs and turned to see his mother in the doorway. She remained there, worrying her hands. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Niall is gone as well.”
It took Ian a long moment to take in the meaning of his mother’s words. “Niall? Niall is with Sileas?”
“Your da says it’s good that she’s not alone,” his mother said.
“God’s blood!” Ian stormed up and down the bedchamber, feeling like a trapped animal. “What can the two of them be thinking? Stirling is not a jaunt down the road—it’s a journey of several days. Christ above, they could be murdered along the way!”
Visions filled his head of Sileas raped, the pair of them mercilessly beaten, and their mutilated bodies left beside the road for wild animals to feed upon.
“Niall is good with a sword,” Alex said, guessing the direction of Ian’s thoughts. “I’m sure your father taught him, same as he did you, to watch for trouble and travel unseen.”
His mother’s gaze rested on the yellow gown that was somehow still clenched in Ian’s hand, then shifted to the bed. “Niall’s old clothes that she wears to muck out the barn are gone. I washed them and left them folded on the bed for her.”
“With Sileas dressed like a lad, the risk is no so great,” Alex said.
“Even if they do manage to reach Stirling in one piece,” Ian said, raising his hands, “the town itself is a hive of hornets.”
The untimely death of James IV at Flodden had left Scotland with a babe as king and his mother, the sister of the hated English king, as regent. Ian didn’t need the Sight to know that powerful and ruthless men would be at court vying for control of the babe and his mother.
“I’m going after them,” Ian said, starting toward the stairs. “And when I find them, I’m going to murder them myself.”
Alex caught up with him in the hall. “It won’t take us long to collect Connor and Duncan,” he said.
Ian shook his head. “No. I don’t know how long this will take, and the gathering for Samhain is only a fortnight away. The three of ye must stay here and make certain Connor is chosen chieftain.”
“We’re coming with ye.” Alex put on his cap and lifted his mantle from one of the pegs by the door. “There’s time to make it to Stirling and back, if we’re quick.”
Ian met his cousin’s sea-green eyes, which were solemn for once.
“Connor and Duncan will say the same.” Alex said.
Ian nodded his thanks and went out the door.
CHAPTER 22
Sileas held onto Niall’s arm as they walked their horses through the crowded, cobbled streets of Stirling. Despite being exhausted and filthy after days of travel, she stared about her. She’d never been in a town of this size before.
“Can ye let go of my arm?” Niall said in a low voice. “I don’t like the way people are looking at us, with ye dressed like a lad and all.”
Sileas snatched her hand away. In her amazement, she had forgotten her disguise.
“It looks like a palace built for the gods,” she said, looking up at Stirling Castle.
They had seen it for miles before they reached the town, perched on top of the towering rock cliffs that protected it on three sides. The side of the castle that faced the town was the only way it could be approached, and this was protected by a curtain wall and massive gatehouse.
“What if the queen isn’t here?” Niall asked. “The royal family has more than one castle, ye know.”
“Your da says that if the queen has any sense at all, this is where she’s brought the baby king,” Sileas said. “He says not even the English can take Stirling Castle.”
They retraced their steps to a tavern at the edge of town that had guest rooms upstairs and a stable behind for their horses. After paying for the night, they took their supper in the tavern.
Sileas had never been among so many strangers in her life. Most of the men spoke in Scots, the English spoken by Lowlanders. Although she knew some Scots, they spoke it far too quickly for her to understand much. Most wore the English style of clothes.
“Will ye stop staring at their codpieces,” Niall hissed and pushed her cap lower over her eyes. “You’re going to get us hurt—or an unpleasant invitation.”
Sileas stifled a laugh behind her hand. She had heard that English noblemen wore a padded cloth over their private parts, but she had not truly believed it.
“I’ll need a bath before visiting the queen.” She looked down at her own clothes and sniffed. “I smell of horse, and that’s the best part.”
“I’ll ask the tavern keeper to send up water,” Niall said, getting to his feet. “It’ll cost extra.”
Sometime later, she saw a woman carrying two sloshing buckets up the stairs—the closest to a washing those stairs had gotten in a long, long while.
She and Niall followed the woman up to a small, serviceable room with a single cot. After warning Sileas to bar the door, Niall returned to the tavern to wait while she had her bath.
Sileas shook out the blue gown she’d stuffed in her cloth bag, pleased that in the chaos of her flight she had thought to bring her best gown for court. After spreading it out on the cot to air, she scrubbed herself clean as best she could in the small wooden tub and put on the chemise she would wear under the gown tomorrow.
