“There’s something you should know, Kaetha,” said her aunt. “Mairi wasn’t sure about this at first but eventually she agreed with me. We feel that you will not be safe as long as you’re here.”
It was painful to hear these words spoken but she was, at the same time, relieved that someone else had brought up the subject so that she didn’t have to.
“What are you saying, Gwyn?” said Aedan.
“She will have to leave the country to get out of Svelrik’s reach.” She touched Kaetha’s shoulder. “You’re in too much danger here in Dalrath, my dear.”
“I know. I know I have to leave you all.” She looked up at her father. “I wish I didn’t.”
“I wish I could come with you,” said Aedan, his fingers brushing her cheek. “But I’d just hold you back. If only I could look after you. You deserved a father who could do that.”
“You saved me from Murdo. You gave yourself up for me. I’ll never forget that.” She turned to her aunt. “You’ll look after him?”
“I promise,” said Gwyn.
“We both will,” said Alistair.
“There were many times I thought that the inside of that dark cell would be the last sight I saw,” said Aedan. “You gave me back my life, Kit. Don’t you worry; I’ll take care of it. Only make sure you take good care of your own.”
“I’ve booked passage for you on a ship which sails at first light,” said Gwyn, “and I’ve packed you some things.” It was only now that Kaetha noticed the leather bag in the corner of the room.
“I see you’ve thought it all through,” said Aedan. “Who’s the captain?”
“His name is Abel Mercier. He has cargo bound for Angaul.”
“Abel?”
“You know him?” asked Kaetha.
“Aye, I do,” said Aedan. “You can trust him. He’s as shrewd as a fox, you get the impression that he’s thinking a hundred thoughts for your every one, which causes many to be wary of him, but he’s been a loyal friend to me. It was good fortune that led you to choose Abel.”
“It was good advice. Carbrey Somerled named him as an ally,” said Gwyn.
“Somerled? Earl of Torrath?” asked Aedan.
Gwyn nodded. “Long before his execution.” The image of the three earls’ heads on spikes came to Kaetha’s mind. “Somerled suspected that Abel had been involved in Rhona’s escape, though he said the merchant never directly confessed as much.”
Aedan’s expression was carefully blank.
“In fact,” continued Gwyn, “We had planned to ask Abel to deliver the seals of the loyalists for Rhona but his ship didn’t return when we expected, nor for some months after. We assumed he’d been shipwrecked or raided by Hildervalders and we could think of no one else who might know the identity of Rhona’s ally in Angaul. No one, that is, except you, Aedan.”
“So . . . ?” Kaetha hesitated, “you got Pa to send that package instead? The one that got him arrested?”
The lines on Gwyn’s face deepened. “I regret, more than anyone, that that happened.”
“It wasn’t her fault, Kit,” said Aedan. “It was bad luck. Whilst I didn’t like to risk trouble finding its way to those I cared about, I did want to help Rhona’s cause. It was my choice in the end. With proof of loyalty amongst the earls, Rhona might have been able to gain support in other lands.”
Kaetha felt as though she were falling. She glared at Gwyn. “It was you. Back in Braddon. The cloaked woman.”
“You’ll need to be more careful in future, Gwyn,” muttered Alistair.
Gwyn nodded. “I saw you at the ceilidh,” she said to Kaetha. “I didn’t think you’d seen me.”
“It was you then.”
“Aye. You’ll understand why I had to keep my presence there secret. It was too risky. Though I longed to talk to you.”
“But if you hadn’t come,” said Kaetha. “If you hadn’t—”
The trapdoor creaked then and Mairi and Donnan appeared. Kaetha jumped to her feet, relief surging through her as she rushed over to them.
“I thought I’d lost you,” she said.
“Can’t lose us that easily,” said Donnan, embracing her.
Her wounds flared at his touch and she winced. “Careful,” she said.
“Sorry.” He backed away awkwardly.
Mairi was holding Aedan’s face in her hands and speaking with him in low tones. She now wore a dark woollen gown as well as a cloak over her other clothes, a white cap concealing all but a few tendrils of red hair.
She and Mairi looked at one another, neither one speaking for some moments.
“Your hair looks nice.” Kaetha smiled at her.
“Well,” Mairi shrugged, “Your aunt just happened to have a Shamlakahn powder we could make a dye with.” She smiled too. “I just felt like a change.”
“And, your back – the blood – what did you—?”
“Don’t worry, it’s not mine,” said Mairi.
“And my poultry yard is only slightly depleted,” muttered Alistair, winking.
“Tam told us what . . . happened to you,” Mairi continued, tears welling in her eyes.
“I’ll be alright,” said Kaetha, cutting that branch of the conversation short. She knew that if she talked about what she’d been through, she would be overwhelmed by it. “I’m sorry for making you a promise I couldn’t keep,” said added.
“I know why you did and it’s alright. I was scared for you but you saved Aedan’s life as well as preserving your own. I cannot thank you enough for that. Oh, here—” she took off
