“Kelvan and Glenna would still be free and alive to haunt and taunt you more. Steal more bairns. Stab more elders.”
He was having a difficult time trying to reason with a lass younger than John who had the power to do what she wished. Sitting there with her hands folded, Lia appeared to be in complete control of the situation. Why the hell wouldn’t she set the two of them free and escort them out of this hellhole? “If you got us out of here, we would come back for them. And for Kyla. Where is she?”
“She is staying in a chamber in another area. You won’t find her without help. And I don’t know where she is yet.”
Alasdair felt like he was talking in circles. If she would just unlock the chains, he would get John away. They could return for Kyla later.
“But they would move again.”
He was beginning to understand. Something else needed to happen. Uncle Connor needed to bring the forces of Clan Grant down upon these evildoers, or the suffering would continue. “Can you read all my thoughts?”
“Nay, only the ones that are sent to me.”
“Is my sire still here?”
“He is.”
“Would you ask him why I am here? Why John?”
She paused for a moment and closed her eyes. “They will need someone on the inside to lead them to Kelvan and Glenna. Both must be destroyed, or Clan Grantham will never be free.”
“So, we are here to help the others find us.”
“Or Kyla would never be found. And she needs to be. They could take her and leave the area, never to return. But it’s not her time yet.”
“I still don’t understand how we can help.”
“It’s simple, actually. No one can hurt John. Me, I’m a faery, so I am immune to their weaponry. And the two of us can protect ourselves and find our way out when the time comes.”
“True. So I have no purpose?”
“Alasdair, there is another man standing next to your sire who looks like both of you, though he is taller.”
Alasdair could barely contain himself, his thoughts going to the two men he adored and admired more than any other—his sire and grandsire. “Grandda?” His voice cracked, something he was powerless to stop.
“Aye. His name is Alexander. And he has a message for you.”
Alasdair looked at every corner of the small chamber, wishing he could see any of the three—his father, his mother, or his grandfather. “I’m listening.”
“Alex says, ‘You have a verra important purpose and you must listen carefully.’”
Alasdair teared up. “I’m listening, Grandda.”
“You were brought here formydaughter. Your grandmother and I pushed you to do all you did for this purpose. We will take care of your son, Alasdair. We cannot help Kyla. You must.”
Alasdair covered his face with his bound hands, so humbled by the possibility that his grandfather was speaking to him. “I’m honored, Grandsire. I’ll make you proud.”
Then he swiped away the tear that had rolled down his cheek.
He had a job to do, and he would see it through.
On his honor as the grandson of Alexander and Madeline Grant.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Connor
As they approached the gates, Connor noticed several people on the parapets watching. The gates were opened, and they entered the courtyard, the wounded first.
