Ewan tapped the key on the opposite side of the iron door, seeking the lock. It clattered inside clumsily, and he wrenched it to the left. A metallic click sounded, and the door creaked open. He stepped out into the hall. Still, Cruim did not move.
It entered his mind to put his uncle inside the cellar, but with the way the man was curled in on himself, blood dripping in strings of saliva from his mouth, Ewan knew it would do little good. His uncle would be no threat. Not when he was dying.
Instead, he crouched by his uncle and gently squeezed his shoulder. “May God forgive ye for what has been done, Uncle.”
Ewan straightened and backed away before charging up the stairs to where the sounds of battle increased—the clashing of weapons and armor and cries of war. A line of warriors appeared in front of him, backlit by light, so they were set in the shadows. At least a dozen men ran to him. Too damn many to take on with a single dagger.
Ewan gritted his teeth and held his ground. If saving Faye lay beyond them, he’d kill every damn one to get to her.
“Sir?” A familiar voice said.
The men stopped.
“Monroe?” Ewan squinted as he raced forward, so the light washed over the faces of his trusted advisor and strongest warriors.
Monroe’s dark eyes went wide. “What’s happened—”
“Moiré,” Ewan ground out.
“We know.” Monroe’s lips thinned beneath his black beard. “Lady Sutherland wrote me a note telling me what happened. We found blood in the cottage she sent us to, and we assumed it had to do with Cruim. Lady Sutherland’s horse was still bound near the hut, as well as Mistress Moiré’s.”
“Where is Faye?” Ewan demanded.
Monroe’s brows shot up. “She’s no’ here?”
Ewan shook his head. “No’ that I’m aware. She wasna brought to the cellar.” He turned his attention to his warriors. “Most of ye search here and take every traitor prisoner. Send two men to Dunrobin to look for Faye. Monroe, ye come with me.”
The warriors split up in immediate compliance with their orders.
“Where are we going?” Monroe asked as Ewan led him through the Great Hall of the manor to the large doors exiting outdoors.
“To the cliff,” Ewan said as a savage pain twisted through him. “Where Lara died.”
Where Faye most likely was. He only hoped they would not be too late.
“There’s something I think ye should know.” There was an almost gentle note to Monroe’s voice that made Ewan pause and regard him with concern.
“What is it?” Ewan’s heart locked mid-beat as he waited for his friend to respond.
“In the letter Lady Sutherland wrote, she confessed something I think ye should know.” Monroe glanced down at his hands, then lifted his gaze to Ewan. “She’s with child.”
23
The air was tinged with the brininess of the sea, and the hushed roar of crashing waves sounded in the distance. Faye continued to put one foot in front of the other, allowing Moiré to guide her to the unknown location.
The dense forest cleared away, revealing a cliff that spilled out to a vast sea.
Fear clutched at Faye’s heart, and she faltered. “Where are we? Where is Ewan?”
“I’ve spent my life being weak.” Moiré pressed the point of the blade to Faye’s stomach.
The tip pricked Faye’s skin beneath her kirtle and made her continue the slow march forward.
“I’m the daughter of a second son.” Moiré gave a mirthless laugh. “Destined to be a servant to my kin for the rest of my life. Do ye know that babe in yer belly will have a better advantage in every way than I’ve ever had?”
Faye hated that she couldn’t put her hands over her belly to protect her unborn child. It left her so much more vulnerable than she’d ever realized possible. “So, ye’ll kill me? And Ewan? Why? For power?”
Moiré pulled in a deep breath, her chest puffing with pride. “To be chieftain.”
Faye gaped at Moiré. “Will ye kill yer own da as well?”
A pained look crossed Moiré’s face. “He was already dying.” It was said so defensively, Faye knew Moiré had a hand in helping his illness along.
“It was why I planned to do this,” Moiré continued. “I didn’t have to hurt ye as well until ye told me ye were with child.” Tears welled her large brown eyes. “I tried to save ye, but the tea I made ye dinna work.”
The tea.
Horror chilled Faye to her bones. “Ye were trying to kill my child?”
“Dinna look at me like that,” Moiré snapped. “As though I’m a monster. I couldna allow an heir to come between me and the chieftainship. And I dinna want to kill ye.”
They were near the cliffs now. The wind gusted with more force, billowing against their faces, and carrying with it the salty mist of the ocean.
“And now ye think ye have to kill me?” Faye’s voice was quiet, but her thoughts screamed through her brain with a multitude of scenarios to free herself.
Moiré nodded and sniffled. “I’m sorry.”
“Why lie to me about Ewan?” Faye demanded. “The letters…” She shook her head. “I know about them.”
Moiré thinned her lips. “So ye wouldna question why he dinna return to Dunrobin, so I could find a way to give ye a tea that would work with the new herbs I took from Sorcha’s garden.” She gave a frustrated sigh. “I tell ye, Faye, I was trying to save ye. But after we came across the blood, after ye demanded to be answered…I couldna keep it a secret any longer.” Her arm at Faye’s back tensed. “Especially no’ with that babe in yer womb.”
“What about Ewan?” Faye choked.
“He’s alive,” Moiré offered graciously. “For now. Cruim insisted he stay a prisoner rather than kill him outright. My da has a tender heart. One that willna beat long enough to see all this through, I wager.”
Faye staggered under the force of her relief. Ewan was alive. Her thoughts flicked back
