Page 129 of Bride of Mist
“Dougal has a plan,” the lass said, holding the torch aloft and picking up her skirts to climb the steps again. “Come. We must hurry.”
“Now where are we going?” Adam asked.
“Ye want to see your sister, aye?”
Adam came to her heel faster than a well-trained hound.
They were out of breath by the time they emerged again in the buttery, and the sight of the cheeses on the buttery shelves made Gellir’s stomach growl.
The lass stifled a grin and handed him a small round of ruayn.
He thanked her and split the cheese with Adam.
While they ate, she grabbed a wooden tray and began loading it up with cheese and smoked fish.
“Come,” she said. “The passage to thedùn marais across the great hall.”
She started forward, and Gellir caught her arm. “Wait. Let me.”
He had no intention of letting that pair of brutish knaves get their hands—or even set their eyes—on the maid. He peered out of the doorway. Seeing no sign of the beasts, he motioned her forward.
She crossed the hall and led them to another hidden passageway. This one was carved into the back of the ale cellar. She handed a jug of ale to Adam to carry, took a large iron key from a hook on the wall, and beckoned them to follow her.
Gellir handled the torch this time as they descended dozens upon dozens of damp steps.
When they reached the iron gate at the entrance of thedùn mara,Gellir shivered. The dank, weepy walls, so deep beneath the keep, were shrouded in shadow, making the empty cell look as foreboding as a grave. He was suddenly glad Feiyan wasn’t alone here.
“Dougal,” the maid called out. “Are ye there?” She turned the key in the lock of the gate. “I’ve brought supper.”
As soon as it was unlocked, Adam threw open the gate and called out, “Feiyan!”
“Adam?” came a faint reply. “Is that you?”
Moments later, brother and sister came together in an enthusiastic embrace.
Meanwhile, Gellir acknowledged Dougal with a cool nod.
“I thought ye’d come,” Dougal told him.
Gellir smirked. “Rivenlochs ne’er leave clan warriors behind.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Come with us now, Feiyan,” Adam pleaded.
“I can’t,” Feiyan said.
“What do you mean? We have the key. We can slip out the gates, join the warriors, and return to Rivenloch. All you have to do is—”
“Nay,” Feiyan said, casting an appreciative glance at Dougal. “I mean to win the castle back for its rightful laird.”
Dougal shot her a look of earnest gratitude. Then he told them, “But we could use your help.” He quickly scanned Gellir from head to toe. “Aye, I think ye’ll do.”
It was a mad scheme, this plan of Dougal mac Darragh’s. Gellir didn’t like it. Not at all. He was a skilled warrior, accustomed to being in the thick of battle. It seemed a waste of his talents to be relegated to the position of a useful but powerless pawn.
But since the ploy might save Feiyan, and since that orange-headed, dewy-eyed maid was fawning over him for his bravery, how could he refuse?
Still, he experienced an unsettling shiver of apprehension when Dougal pulled the hood of Gellir’s cloak over his mud-smudged face to head up the steps after Adam, leaving Gellir to take his place in the gaol. He wasn’t meant to be caged like an animal. Trapped here, he would be helpless to defend anyone.
