Page 11 of Bound By Deception

Bryce was right, she thought as she suppressed a shudder. The ironsmiths of Duncrag were indeed working hard, forging iron weapons to use against the Shee.

They were halfway up the hill when a woman stepped out of a cottage and threw the contents of a bucket across the road. Liquid splattered to Bree’s right, and her pony snorted, side-stepping.

Bree glanced down at her cloak, but she couldn’t see if whatever that bucket had contained caught her. The daylight hadalmost faded now, braziers illuminating the fort.Disgusting place.Mouth thinning, she urged her pony into a brisk trot.

Fortunately though, the higher they climbed, the fresher the air became—and by the time they rode up the final incline before the huge iron-studded gates in front of the broch, Bree sucked sharp, cold night air into her lungs.

Once again, Gavyn introduced them, and again, they were ushered through, riding into a large open space, lined on three sides by low-slung buildings and stone walls, with steps on the fourth side leading up to the great doors of the broch itself.

Bree drew up her pony and vaulted off, landing lightly on the stones.

“Careful,” Gavyn muttered from where he’d dismounted next to her. His voice was rough, betraying his tension. Being amongst the Marav and in such proximity to iron was taking its toll. “You’re Fia mac Callum, remember. Move with a bit less grace.”

Bree bristled at his command before she reminded herself that Gavyn had a point. Her new body didn’t feel as nimble or strong as her Shee one, yet she still carried herself with the same confidence and elegance as the rest of her people—not a bumbling Marav.

Nodding, she handed her mount’s reins to the captain. They both still had their hoods up, although she caught the glint of his silvery eyes as he watched her. “Good luck,” he said finally.

Bree’s brow furrowed. “I don’t need it.”

Their gazes locked then. The closeness Bree and Gavyn had once shared was in the past, but the ghost of it still lingered. For a moment, she thought the captain might say something else.

But he didn’t. She could almost taste his impatience to be away.

Two heavyset figures approached from the gatehouse, big men clad in dark leather with fur cloaks around their shoulders.

“Give us your bags, lass,” one of them greeted Bree. “We’ll carry them up to your quarters.”

Bree nodded, motioning to the large leather packs strapped behind her saddle. “This is all I have.”

One of the guards collected her things, while the other, who’d greeted her, motioned to the enormous broch that loomed above them. Braziers had been lit by the doors leading into the round tower, ruddy firelight flickering on dull stone. “I’ll take you to meet the chief-enforcer now.”

Bree’s belly clenched. She’d thought she might be given time to prepare herself for meeting her husband-to-be.

She glanced at Gavyn again, but he’d turned away, mounting his horse once more.

Standing in the midst of the yard, flanked by two mortals, her breath steaming in the chill, Bree watched him go. The other Ravens followed. None of them bid her farewell. They merely favored her with lingering glances, their expressions veiled beneath the shadows of their hoods.

That’s it, Bree thought as her gaze tracked her escort through the gates leading back onto The Thoroughfare. The main gates would be closed now; they’d have to find lodgings for the night in the lower levels of the fort.I’m on my own.

“The Hag’s nails,” the guard who’d shouldered her bags muttered. “What have you got in here … rocks?”

Bree didn’t answer. Instead, she lowered her gaze demurely. Best she started behaving like a meek maiden right away.

“Not a chatty one, are you?” His companion eyed her.

The guard holding her belongings snorted. “The chief-enforcer is a surly bastard. The last thing he’ll want is a mouthy wife.”

“She’s comely though.” Bree glanced up to see naked appreciation flare in the other guard’s pale-blue eyes. A note of envy had crept into his voice. His boldness made her itch to punch him.

“A Maid of Albia isn’t going to have a face like the Ben Neeya, is she?” His companion replied, impatient now as he nodded to Bree. “Come on, lass … it’s cold enough to freeze The Warrior’s balls off out here. Follow me.”

Bree did, relieved to get out of the chill.

They crossed the wide yard and climbed the stairs toward the heavy doors above. Bree noted that she walked differently now—she no longer moved in supple, stalking steps as she once had. As she mounted the steps, her thigh muscles strained slightly. Her body definitely had lost some of its former strength.

Two more guards, these clad in chainmail with domed helmets upon their heads, flanked the oaken doors. Wordlessly, they drew them open for Bree and her escort.

Sighing as she stepped in out of the cold and damp onto a rush-covered floor, Bree pushed back her hood and glanced around. She’d expected to enter the vast hall within, but this space appeared to be the entranceway, with another set of doors ahead of her. A single brazier burned in the center of the chamber, the flames casting long shadows over the damp stone walls, while to the right, worn stone steps led upstairs. To the left was another, shadowy, set of steps. These led underground.

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