“I want to do more than gut him.” Ronan paced back and forth along the landing. To Duncan’s men surrounding him, he muttered, “Make yourselves busy along these rocks. Scatter about as if you’re stretching your legs or whatever else comes to mind. I willnae be leaving here without my wife, which means we must find a way inside, and damn soon.”
“Follow his order, as if it were my own.” Duncan motioned to his men to move out then eyed Hamish. “Tell me you ‘see’ something.”
“No’ as yet, but I’ll be waiting and watching.”
“As will I.” Ronan bounded onto the rocks and crouched in the dark, his chest aching and his frustration burning fierce and hot. Find a way in, he would. Or perish trying. There was no other choice.
Chapter 7
Kyla’s heartbeat thumped as she stood beside Fiona at her window. “I’ll no’ wait idly by for Ronan and Duncan to attempt a rescue. We have to find a way out of this place afore my chosen one loses all reason.”
“The only way in and out is through the main gate.”
“What about from the top of the tower? Can we get upstairs, sneak through the window and use a rope to scale down?”
“Should we fall then we’d end up a bloody mess on the rocks.” Fiona closed the shutters over the window. “What of your fae skill? ’Tis said those with the mind-walker ability can sway another’s intentions when within their mind. Has your skill ever grown to that level?”
“I’ve never attempted—oh.” Memories surged, of the time when she’d been down in the dungeons with Ronan following his initial capture at Duncan’s hands and she’d unknowingly used force against him when she’d issued her command for him to eat. His words flowed through her mind.
“Cease using force against me.” He’d taken a hearty swallow of the water, her mind entrenched within his. “I can sense your fae skill, your subtle yet clear push within my mind to make me obey your orders.”
“I have no idea what you speak of.” She truly hadn’t at the time, having never used force before.
“Trust me, you hold a fae skill whether you wish to acknowledge it or no’, although it likely lays buried somewhat inside you since you have no’ had the chance to be guided by our people in the full use of it. I too am part fae and can sense your ability.”
She grinned and cleared her thoughts. “Fiona, I’ve used force once afore. I’ll try to do so again.”
“Good, then dress and we’ll be away.”
She tossed her drying cloth aside and donned the shift the maid had left folded on the end of the bed. From the ambry, she whipped out a gown of the darkest color, one which would aid her in blending in with the night. With the mountainous folds of blue-black fabric in hand, she eased the velvet over her head and the layers slithered down her body and brushed the polished floorboards. Front laces pulled together and tied, she slid her feet into the slippers the maid had brought then ran her fingers through her damp locks. “I’m ready.”
“Then we leave, now.” Fiona looped one arm through hers and tugged her toward the door.
With one last deep breath to firm her resolve, she stepped into the passageway and with as much force as she could muster, thrust inside the guard’s mind. “I wish to leave, along with Fiona, and you will offer us your aid, immediately. Am. I. Understood?”
“Aye, my lady.” A haze clouded the guard’s dark blue eyes through the slits in his helm.
“I—I—” Fiona stared at her in astonishment. “Demand something more. Ask him his name.”
Within the guard’s mind, she issued, “Give me your name.”
“Cedric,” he mumbled, his gaze still cloudy.
“Oh, that’s perfect.” Fiona clapped. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Cedric, listen to me well. What is the best route for us to get outside, without anyone being any the wiser?”
“The servants’ stairwell winds down to the kitchens.” Eyes still hazed. “There is a back door in one of the storage rooms that leads to a small rear courtyard.”
“Show me the way.”
“Of course.” He tramped down the darkened passageway then opened a door within a shadowed nook, one she hadn’t even noticed on her way up.
“I should have considered the servants’ stairwell myself.” Fiona hurried through the door Cedric had opened, her forest-green skirts swishing about her.
“Follow me, as quietly and quickly as you can,” she issued to Cedric as she rushed after Fiona. Oh goodness. The servants’ stairwell was so cramped and dark, lit only by a single candle on the landing just below them. Hands bunched in her skirts, she negotiated the tight turn of stairs with Cedric stooped over behind her. His shoulders brushed the gritty stone walls and his head scraped the low beamed ceiling. Musty air clogged her airways and she fought to drag in each breath.
“We’re almost there,” Fiona whispered from below as she hurried down the last few steps then halted next to a heavy wooden door and touched the knob. “The kitchens lie right beyond this door.”