Eighteen
William could do little more than stare at her, his shock was so great. “Ye’re certain?”
She nodded her head. “Ye must make haste.”
He rose, uncertainty gripping him, but made his way close enough to the water’s edge that he could study the towers. He looked up at the moon, which was disappearing before his very eyes already. Ada was right. He could hardly believe it. He’d never seen such a thing.
“Is sheban-druidh?” Grant asked, coming up beside William.
“Nay,” William replied. “She had an instinct, as she told us. ’Tis the gift from the fae.”
“But if it’s nae working properly—”
“Dunnae fash yerself.”
“But she said Thomas was the one who would stop the Steward, and now she says ’tis Bram.”
William nodded. Her gift had only been half working, and now… He refused to reveal it to Grant just to ease his worry, but William suspected her gift was functioning properly now that he had realized that he wanted her heart. But he’d not give in to the desire to accept her love and give it in return. Still, he did not think that mattered when it came to her gift. William had seen the complete certainty in Ada’s eyes when she’d told them what they must do.
Her words drifted through his mind:
The moon will soon disappear from the sky, blanketing the land in near-complete darkness. Swim to the hill, scale it, and follow the path to the cell that overlooks the cliff. Bram will be there. Jump from the cell into the waters far below without fear of death, and then swim back to them to escape.
It seemed simple. Too simple. But what choice did he have?
“The moon will be gone soon,” William said, turning toward Ada. She stood there swathed in moonlight, looking very much like a forest fairy with her hair tumbling down over her shoulders and her pale skin glistening. A deep ache pierced him, but he shoved it away and looked at Grant again. “Go arm Marjorie with a dagger; I’ll do the same for Ada.” The daggers would be no match against men with swords, but it was better than nothing. The thought offered precious little comfort. “I want to talk to Ada before I depart.”
Grant inclined his head, and they turned together and made their way to where Ada and Marjorie stood in the small clearing. Grant motioned for Marjorie to follow him away, and once they were out of earshot, William took his dagger out of its sheath and handed it to Ada.
“Do ye believe ye could stab someone if ye were in danger?” he asked.
Her steely gaze met his, and he blinked at how her eyes shone like silver in the light. “Aye.” She took his dagger by the hilt. “Show me how to do it.”
He nodded and demonstrated how to aim for a man’s throat or his heart—the two places that were likely to cause instant death. When he was done, he stood there engulfed in the silence of his own misery and doubt, his throat aching with the need to say something, to offer an explanation as to why he had hurt her. But that would be akin to asking her to scale the wall he was trying to keep between them. So instead he said, “Will ye kiss me for luck?”
Her lips parted with her obvious shock. “Ye dunnae need luck,” she replied, her voice hard.
The realization that she had now withdrawn from him as he had her struck a powerful blow to his chest and made his breath solidify in his throat. It was for the best, he decided. He would return for her when this was over, and then he would take her to her new home to be safe.
“Stay here until I return,” he said. She nodded so quickly he was suspicious. “I mean it, Ada. Vow it. Vow ye will be here when I return.”
A memory he’d long forgotten of his mother surfaced in his mind’s eye: him making her promise she would be there in the morning when he awoke. It was as if he’d sensed she would one day leave.
Blood rushed through him, making a whoosh in his ears. “Ada,” he pressed, needing her vow, feeling he could not leave without it.
“I vow it,” she finally said.
The relief her words brought made him feel weak. Eventually, he would not yearn for her touch or have the desire to possess her heart, but that day was not today.
Hella and Freya trotted out of the woods and toward them. He expected Hella to come to him, but she positioned herself on one side of Ada as Freya sat on the other. Even the hound had distanced herself from him. That was a good thing, he reminded himself as he turned from her. It was what he wanted,needed, to remain cold and strong. So why did he feel so damned weak?
Denying William’s request for a kiss and then allowing him to walk away was the hardest thing Ada had ever done, but she sensed it was what she had to do to keep him alive and keep the king on the throne. Additionally, not kissing him was best for her.
“He cares for ye, ye ken,” Marjorie said beside her.
Ada snorted at that as she stared out at the dark water, looking for a glimpse of William or Grant but not finding one. That was good. If she could not see them, then it was unlikely the guards on Trethway Island could, either.
“Ada, did ye hear me?”
