Page 113 of Bride of Mist
Feiyan nodded. “I’m Feiyan la Nuit of Rivenloch, niece of the laird.”
“No wonder ye fought with such skill,” Merraid marveled, perusing her from head to toe. “Are all o’ ye so fierce?”
Feiyan smiled with humbled pride. “Not as fierce as the maid who cracked my pate with a chamberpot.”
Merraid blushed.
“So will you do it?” Feiyan asked. “Will you help?”
Merraid reclaimed Feiyan’s drained cup and creased her brows as she gazed pensively into its empty depths. “E’en the forces o’ Rivenloch may not be able to defeat Gaufrid’s army.”
“You haven’t seen the forces of Rivenloch.”
“If anythin’ bad happens to Dougal, if he’s hurt or k-ki-”
“Nothing will happen,” Feiyan said, placing a hand of reassurance on the maid’s forearm. “I swear it.”
Merraid stared at her with earnest longing. “I’d do anythin’ to save Dougal mac Darragh.” Then, holding the cup and candle, she rose and turned away.
Feiyan stood to follow her. But a wave of residual pressure in her head dizzied her, making her sway on her feet. “Wait a moment.” She pressed her fingers to her temple. “That clout you gave me has made a muddle of—”
Her words were cut off by a harsh scrape and a metallic clang. When she looked up, Merraid was on the other side of a gate of iron bars. The maid’s face was solemn as she turned a key in the lock.
Feiyan’s heart dropped. “What are you doing?”
For an instant, she gave Merraid the benefit of the doubt. Maybe there was a good reason to lock Feiyan in this cave of a castle gaol. Maybe his prisoner’s sudden disappearance would rouse Gaufrid’s suspicions.
But when she glimpsed the nervous spark in Merraid’s heretofore innocent eyes, she sensed something else was afoot.
“Don’t leave me here,” Feiyan insisted, keeping her voice level. “I need to get word to Dougal.”
“How do I know ye don’t mean to keep him, ye and your Rivenloch army?”
“I give you my word.”
“Why should I believe ye?”
“Youhaveto believe me,” Feiyan said, fighting back panic, trying to sound reasonable. “You have to let me go. Dougal is waiting for me.”
“If ye’re truly a Warrior Maid o’ Rivenloch—”
“I am. I swear.”
“Then ye’ll make a valuable hostage.”
The maid intended to trade her for Dougal. Merraid didn’t realize that to Gaufrid, Dougal had no value.
Merraid tried to explain. “I can’t lose him. He means too much to me. To the clan. Laird or not. I’m sorry.”
It was Feiyan who was sorry. Sorry she’d trusted the maid. With a roar of frustration, she rushed at the lass, banging into the iron bars with such force that the gate clattered in its stony frame.
Merraid staggered back with a gasp, perhaps fearing Feiyan’s rage would unhinge the cell gate.
“’Twon’t work,” Feiyan argued. “Don’t you see? Gaufrid won’t pay the ransom.”
“Dougal is his brother. He’ll pay.”
“But he’s the one who sent Dougal to his death. He’s the one who set the fire at Kirkoswald. He knew Dougal would have no choice but to seek vengeance. Gaufrid sent him straight into the swords of Scotland’s most formidable border clan. Alone.”
