He knew beyond everything that he had to keep her safe. She had become important to him, almost as important as his heart beating. But he hadn’t done enough to deserve her.
He stared up at the darkened beams. This time he wouldn’t fail. He had to prove his worth as a husband and that meant finding Lugh before he realised Sandulf was on his trail. And the thought frightened him to the core of his being.
An unnatural hush clung to the entire village which perched between the sea and the great fortress of Dun Ollaigh, the sort Ceanna struggled to remember hearing except after the death of her mother.
The familiarity of the buildings and its scents washed over Ceanna. She’d missed it in ways she hadn’t quite been aware of until she returned. Everywhere her gaze brought on the rush of another memory, but as long as her stepmother and Feradach remained in control, this place was dangerous for her. For them both.
‘Where to now?’ Sandulf asked in a quiet voice.
Ceanna adjusted the hood of her cloak, keeping her face concealed. ‘The tavern is impossible. My stepmother is sure to have spies there. Shall we try Urist?’
‘He tried to betray you.’
‘Did he? Do we really know that?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘No one came after us. He acquired that corpse which he pretended was me. And the messengers left before the ambush, but...’ At Sandulf’s gentle cough, she paused. ‘What?’
‘I thought you were the one who hated taking risks.’
‘I’m learning that I’m rather better at this than I could have imagined.’ She cocked her head to one side. The air was far too still. She couldn’t even hear the fishwives calling out their wares besides the harbour as they always did at this time of day. ‘Something is wrong. I can’t quite put my finger on it. There seems to be a certain sadness hanging over the village.’ A shiver ran down her spine. ‘Probably my over-active imagination. I hope it isn’t anything to do with my father. I hope he remains alive...’ Tears stung at the back of her throat. ‘I want to see him again, Sandulf. I want him to meet you and bless our union.’
He gave her a sideways glance. ‘I know what your imagination is like.’
A warm bubble of happiness filled Ceanna, banishing her fears for her father. When he said things like that, she could almost believe that their marriage stood a chance of being a happy one.
Sandulf shaded his eyes. ‘I can hear shouting. Can you make out what they are saying?’
‘Kill the heathen who murdered Our Lady.’ Ceanna wrinkled her nose. ‘Which lady? Do you think someone tried to steal the statue of Mary from the church? It will surely be drunk lads from the fishing boats. They are always doing daft things like that. At least it is not about my father’s death.’
Sandulf gave her a look. ‘Since when can anyone kill a statue? Who else is their lady?’
She placed a hand on her stomach. The full horror of it washed over her. ‘They are blaming some poor innocent for my death. How could this be? Did Urist pass that body off as me? Could he do that? Why would he? I should—’
His fingers closed tight about her arm. ‘Should what? Show yourself? Ruin any hope of surprising your stepmother and this Feradach? Alert Lugh? You’ve no idea what trick Urist played, but it was certainly not designed to assist you escape. You might as well march into the middle of Dun Ollaigh begging for your death at the top of your voice.’
She jerked her arm away, hating that his words contained some small measure of truth. ‘I can’t have an innocent’s blood on my conscience.’
Sandulf glared at her, obviously expecting her to back down. He gave a long sigh ‘You’re right. Something must be done. Keep in the shadows. Do not reveal yourself unless it becomes absolutely necessary.’
‘What are we going to do?’ she asked before he could stride away.
His glance flickered over her. ‘What makes you think I will need help? You stay here with Vanora. I will report back after I have worked out what is happening.’
‘We’re a partnership, Sandulf. You need me whether you like it or not. You are far from fluent in Pictish despite your practice.’
He sighed heavily. ‘Why do you make it so difficult for me to protect you? Where has the woman gone who hated taking risks?’
‘She ceased to exist not long after she encountered you.’
She gestured towards where a crowd gathered. A sort of mute rumbling roar filled the village, driving out the quiet, but it, too, was an unnatural sound.
‘Those are the people I grew up with. They mourn my death. But not my father. Not my father, Sandulf. He lives.’ Her heart leapt. All the way here, she’d tried not to hope that he might still breathe and that she could see him again, but even still, a faint hope about rescuing her father had taken hold inside of her. It had started as something small like a warm ember, but had since grown to a steady flame. With Sandulf’s help, she knew they could rescue him after the plotters were exposed. Then maybe her father would grow strong and they could become closer again.
‘They may be your people, but they can also be your undoing. You spoke true—leaving you in the shadows would be a mistake. Follow my lead. But revealing yourself to the crowd will be a last resort.’ After Ceanna’s unsteady nod, Sandulf crouched down in the dust and rapidly sketched out his plan. ‘Our main objective is to determine who is being held and if he is worth saving.’
‘He has been captured and abused because of me. Of course he is worth saving.’
‘If it were Lugh or Feradach, would you feel the same way?’
Ceanna hugged her arms about her waist.
