“They’ll shelter me and protect me from all the men who wish to use me, including the king, the Steward, and William. Promise me ye’ll tell William.”
“Aye,” Marjorie said. “I vow it.”
He would come for her, and then he would have to decide if wanted her love and would open his heart to her in return. Otherwise, she would stay at the nunnery and declare herself a servant of God. If William still wanted to be rid of her but wanted to ensure she was safe, this would be the solution he sought. The thought made tears leak from Ada’s eyes, but there was no time for tears.
As a flickering torch appeared in the distance, followed by another, and another, she pushed Marjorie away, hissing, “Make haste to hide!” Without hesitating, Ada started toward the flickering flames that seemed to be floating in the blackness as the thundering of the horses grew louder.
She walked at first, becoming accustomed to the total darkness, but then she began to run, feeling more sure-footed and keenly aware that she needed to put as much distance between herself and Marjorie as possible. She ran down the same path they had taken to the edge of the woods, and without her sight, branches scraped her cheeks and snagged her dress as she ran. The closer the flames drew to her, the harder she pushed herself. Soon her side was pinching and she was gasping. A branch smacked against her forehead with athwack, and she cried out in pain and fell forward onto her knees.
As she righted herself, she could hear the braying of horses and smell the many days of sweat on the warriors and their steeds. Before she even gained her feet, the riders were there, galloping toward her, Brothwell leading. The torch in his hand cast his face, half in shadows and half bright, so that his determined expression was clear.
He yanked his horse to a stop in front of her, and her mind raced, knowing she must speak first, convincingly, and quickly. “Brother!” she exclaimed, rushing to him and clasping her hand on his shin. “I’m so glad ye found me! William took me! He wanted me to aid him in getting his brother back, but I’ve the last laugh.”
Brothwell leaned over his horse, the torch flickering and illuminating his face. Much to her relief, he looked uncertain. “Ye did nae flee with him?”
“Brother, nay!” Impulsively, she cupped his cheek with her palm. “We are family.” The lie filled her mouth with a bitter taste. “He took me against my will.”
Brothwell’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going to cut out his heart and shove it down his throat.”
Ada forced herself not to recoil from Brothwell and his words. Instead, she shook her head. “Ye have more pressing matters. The Steward’s castle is under attack by men William sent there. As for William, I’ve taken care of him. He thinks he will free his brother and escape the island because I told him so, but I lied.”
“Did ye now?” Brothwell said, his tone pleased. “What will happen to him?”
“He’ll die there,” she said, matter-of-fact. “As will Bram. And Marjorie.” Ada expected some sort of response of sorrow about Marjorie or even bitter words of betrayal.
Instead, Brothwell said, “Good. While I wish I were the one to deliver their deaths, protecting my father must come before my own selfish wishes. “Let us make haste, King Maker” he said, rising to pass the torch to the rider next to him before Brothwell extended his hand to her.
