Page 75 of Highlander of Steel
Turning a corner, listening for the sound of any guards who might have had the misfortune of being stationed down there, she frowned at a worrisome sight ahead.
Through the bars of a cell, a hand peeked.
She ran forward, the glow of the torch settling across a familiar figure who lay on the dirty floor. Blue eyes squinted up at her, glassy with sleep or fever or both, the man’s cheeks sunken from starvation, his lips cracked and dry.
“Lass,” Fraser croaked. “I wondered what happened to ye.”
Ailis sank to her knees, propping the torch against the bars. “Yer hand,” she said thickly. “Let me see yer other hand.”
“I wouldnae… if I were ye,” Fraser replied, grimacing as he sat up. “It’s nae pretty.”
He rested his other hand on the knee of his crossed leg and offered a bitter smile. Bandages were tightly wrapped, holding down a wad of cloth where a finger used to be. It had been tended to, at least, so it wouldn’t fester and bring on a fever.
“They had the… decency nae to take it from me sword hand,” he said, wincing. “Or they didnae ken… that I use me… left hand.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ailis murmured, reaching through the bars to touch his brow.
It was hotter than it should be, but not so hot that he was in immediate danger. Still, in conditions like this, surrounded by dirt and filth, where rats and pests reigned, it was not a matter ofwhetherhe would take seriously ill but when.
“I daenae ken how to get ye out, but I will,” she said quietly. “I’ll do it soon, once I can find ye a safe path to escape. Och, Fraser, I’m so sorry for what me braither did to ye.”
Fraser furrowed his brow. “It wasnae yer braither, Ailis. It was yer faither who sliced off me finger. Said he’d send me to Killian piece by piece until me braither handed over the land he wants.”
“Land?” Ailis hissed.
All of this for land? All of this for a bit of grass and forest and river that doesnae truly belong to anyone?
Just then, Fraser’s eyes widened, darting over her head. He managed to say her name, his voice sharp with panic, before something coarse and scratchy rushed over her face, plunging her into darkness.
As she thrashed and tried to grab the fabric that had been dragged over her head, strong hands seized her wrists and quickly bound them with rough rope.
“I should have killed ye when I had the chance, ye traitor,” a gruff voice snarled. “All of ye, traitors.”
Unforgiving arms hauled her to her feet and dragged her down the hallway, the shriek of hinges telling her that she was being thrown into the next cell.
“Ailis!” Fraser shouted. “Ailis, it’s yer?—”
A grunt silenced him, a faint thud conjuring images of a guard knocking him out.
She braced herself for the same thing, but it didn’t come. Instead, a rough hand dug into her shoulder, forcing her down onto her knees.
The next moment, that hand squeezed the back of her skull and shoved it downward. A shock of cold water made her gasp—or try to—as she struggled to pull back, the fierce hand keeping her under.
The hood was soaked through in an instant, triggering a panic more intense than anything she had ever experienced. She would have taken a thousand strong currents dragging her out to sea over the smothering, suffocating helplessness of whatever was happening to her.
Just when she thought she might pass out, the hand withdrew.
Ailis reeled back, desperately trying to suck in a breath, but all she managed was a mouthful and a noseful of the sodden fabric, blocking her from taking even the smallest breath.
I’m goin’ to die. I’m goin’ to die, all because I didnae listen to Killian.
“Ye willnae die quickly like yer maither,” the awful voice said, growing familiar. “Ye’ll die slowly, as payment for all the years I’ve resisted killin’ ye. Ye’ll die slowly for yer maither’s sins and all the trouble ye’ve caused me. Ye’ll die slowly for leadin’ yer braither astray, and because I deserve to watch the life leave yer eyes.”
The hood was ripped off her head.
Ailis gasped wildly, sucking in as much of the stale dungeon air as she could, her eyes streaming with the pressure that almost drowning had pushed into her skull.
“Faither, plea?—”
