Thomas nodded. “Ye’ll save her. I ken it.”
He would, and nae simply because he must for the king. And that scared him more than any enemy he’d ever faced. They moved up the hill together, Esther and Maximilian behind them, Hella by William’s side. They got to the crest, and William felt as if a hand squeezed his chest when Ada was nowhere to be seen but Freya trotted toward them.
Hella immediately began to howl, as did Freya, and the dogs shot toward each other. A sense of terrible foreboding twisted through William, and at the look of fear on Maximilian’s face, that feeling of doom increased. Thomas put a hand on William’s shoulder. “I can come back with Grant and send Lannrick to—”
“Nay,” William interrupted. “I’ll nae allow Ada to have put herself at risk needlessly. Go now.”
With a nod, Thomas turned. Maximilian fell immediately behind Thomas, but Esther hesitated. She came quickly to William and grabbed his hands. “I was there the day the fae gave Ada the gift, closest to them when they tried to right the mess they had made.”
William’s brow furrowed. “Tried to right the mess?”
Esther waved a hand. “’Tis a long story for another time. But I ken something that nae anyone else does, nae even Ada. I told her father, but he made me vow to keep it secret until the day I thought I had met the man that would make it so.”
William frowned, unsure what Esther was trying to tell him and impatient to go after Ada. “Make what so?”
“To set the gift to rights. The fairies’ arguing mucked up the gifts they gave Ada. They said so that day, but I was the only one who heard it.”
A bad feeling took hold of William. “Are ye saying Ada’s gift is nae working properly?”
“Aye, ’tis exactly what I’m saying,” Esther replied. “Two sacrifices must be made for the gift to be fully activated—one by Ada and one by the man who thinks to hold her heart. Until this happens and the love is true, the gift will nae have the power it is supposed to.”
“By all that’s holy,” William said. “What sacrifice? I dunnae wish for her heart.”
Esther arched her eyebrows. “Dunnae ye? I suggest ye look within yerself.” With that, she fell into step behind Thomas and beside Maximilian, and the three of them hurried in the direction of the cave.
Resisting the urge to rush headlong in a direction that might be the wrong one, William kneeled to see if he could track the path Ada—or whoever had been waiting for her—might have taken. He scanned the dirt and grass, looking for signs of someone having passed this way. He moved down the path, anger rising with each passing moment that he saw nothing, and then a footprint in the mud caught his attention. Then another. And another. Until he counted six sets of footprints. Five of them were much larger than the other. Five men and a woman.
Ada.
He scampered over the ground on his hands and feet, following the six sets of prints up and to the right. But then the prints disappeared into the leaves and grass. Frustration choked him as he scanned the ground. It would be much harder, much slower, to track them over the leaves and sticks. Nearly impossible, unless he was an expert, and he wasn’t Grant.
Suddenly, a stick cracked behind him, and he jumped to his feet, swinging around with his sword drawn. He gaped at the sight of Marjorie, dirty, disheveled, and grasping a dagger. “Connor took her,” Marjorie said, matter-of-fact. “I was hiding when he and his men came by.”
“What were ye—”
“Bram,” she interrupted. “I was coming to free ye so ye could rescue Bram, but it seems Ada got to ye before I could. I thought she’d betrayed ye.”
William nodded. “As did I.” He eyed Marjorie. “It seems nae anyone is quite who they appear to be.”
“I love yer brother,” Marjorie said, her voice unapologetic. “For him, I will do anything.”
“Then he’s lucky,” William said, meaning it. “Do ye ken where the MacKinney was going?”
“Aye. To his stronghold—Castlerock. He means to wed her.”
The notion pumped anger through William’s veins. “Well, he kinnae. She’s my wife.”
“Aye,” Marjorie agreed. “But Ada told Connor that ye were dead, that Brothwell killed ye.”
Panic rioted within him. She’d offered herself as a sacrifice to protect him. She had to have known that Connor would wed her the first chance he got, thinking to use her and keep her with him. “We’ll have to make haste. If ye kinnae keep up, I’ll come back for ye.”
“I will keep up. I’m fast,” Marjorie said, determination vibrating her words. “But, William, ye should ken that Connor has a priest with him. He’ll likely—”
“Stop and wed her,” William bit out. The anger and worry hit him so intensely that he bellowed his rage as he began to shake. The MacKinney would bed her, thinking Ada had willingly wed him, unless William reached her first.
