Mairi nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” said Kaetha. “You’re tired. We all are. We all need rest and warmth.”
Kaetha set aside some larger sticks and scooped leaves and twigs into a pile, striking flint against firesteel over them.
“The kindling’s not dry enough,” said Donnan.
“It’ll work,” she said. Comprehension dawned on Donnan’s face as she stretched out her hand over the kindling. She’d only ever summoned fire or sparks by accident before and was pretending to be more confident than she felt. But a thrill of energy bolted through her and heat snapped at her hand. She flinched then waved her hand and blew cool air onto her palm. Flames had taken hold of the kindling.
Donnan poured a little water on her hand. “You should be more careful,” he said.
“Mairi didn’t see,” she whispered.
“No,” he said, his voice low, “I meant you should try not to burn yourself.” He positioned sticks over the kindling, keeping his eyes on his task. “What is it you’re hiding, Kit? How did you really know we were nearing the road?”
She glanced at Mairi. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I can tell when you’re lying.”
She said nothing.
“Fine.” He got up. “Right,” he said, speaking to both Kaetha and Mairi. “I’m going to set some rabbit snares before it gets too dark.” He took his knife and the ball of string and wandered off through the trees.
“Don’t go far.” Mairi came over to the fire and started warming her hands. “What can I do?”
“You can get warm and rest.”
Kaetha poured water in the pot and set it on a log so that most of it was in the flames, adding health-giving bay leaves and motherwort, mint for refreshment and a sprig of lavender to soothe. When the tea was brewed, she poured some in a bowl and handed it to Mairi. “Drink up,” she said as she poured the rest into a waterskin, determined to get Donnan to drink some upon his return. Then she set about making porridge.
Three bowls were filled and steaming but Donnan still hadn’t returned. Mairi was gazing into the fire but, for all the golden glow on her face, there was a shadow there that no light could cast out. Kaetha understood. She felt it too.
“We’ll see him again, Mairi,” said Kaetha. “I believe that.” Mairi said nothing; she just sat, twisting the silver band on her ring finger. Hoping that her stepmother wasn’t giving in to despair, Kaetha tried to hear her thoughts but, as had happened before, she felt as though her magic pushed against an unyielding wall. Mairi’s mind was divided from hers. “Did you know I have an aunt in Feodail?” she said, surprised at her sudden certainty that she would go back to her old home. Her anger towards Lady Gwyn was still wound as tight as rope but she realised they would probably need her, or at least the hall’s proximity to the citadel of Ciadrath, and Mairi would benefit now with a plan to focus on.
“An aunt?”
“My mother’s sister.” Realising that her hands had become fists, she stretched out her fingers and laid her hands on her lap.
“You’ve never spoken of her,” said Mairi. “Neither did Aedan.”
“She may not be our favourite person in the world but she would take us in if we needed her help.”
Mairi nodded, quiet, thinking.
“Eat,” said Kaetha. “You’ll need your strength. Don’t wait for me, I’m just going to check on Donnan.” Mairi seemed almost childlike in the way she looked up at her, her eyes big and round. “I’ll be back very soon.”
There was a snap of twigs behind her and Donnan looked past Kaetha, his expression registering alarm.
“It’s alright,” she said, resigning herself to explaining about Tam coming with them and persuading Donnan not to tell Mairi about him. “It’s just—” The name ‘Tam’ faded from her tongue. Tam was not there. Instead there were two men and a young woman. Kaetha edged backwards. One man was scrawny, his ropey neck telling of older age, yet he must have been strong as he wielded a huge axe. Another stood behind and, despite wearing the robes of a monk, he also brandished a weapon, a long, jagged knife. The young woman bared her teeth like an animal, a knife in one hand, a hammer in the other.
“What do you want?” said Kaetha.
“Money. Food. Weapons. Let’s see what you got.” The skinny man pointed at her with his axe. “That your camp over there?”
“No!” Kaetha cried, her heart pummelling against her ribcage. The man laughed as she and Donnan raced back to Mairi, standing between her and the approaching thieves.
“The bags, lass.” He glanced at the young woman, motioning towards the pile of bags near the fire.
“Aye, Pa,” she said, sauntering over to Donnan. “Put that knife down, laddie.” Donnan did not. Then, with one swift motion, the knife fell to the ground and Donnan clutched his hand with a groan. Kaetha only realised when the woman stepped back that she’d hit him with her hammer.
Mairi dropped her own knife and handed one of the bags to her. “Just take what you want and go.”
“That’s a pretty bit of silver,” the woman said, gripping Mairi’s wrist.
“No – please. That’s my wedding ring.”
“Not anymore.” The young woman pulled the ring off Mairi’s finger and put it on her own, threw Mairi’s bag to the monk-thief and picked up another as well as the dropped knives. “Come on Pa, let’s go,” she said to the man with the axe.
“But what if they talk – to Laird Lennox up at Doocot Hall,
