William shielded his eyes. “Bloody Christ—Drake? Is that you?”
“Wait—I’ll get something to lower down to you.”
“Drake?” But there was no answer. He closed his eyes, profound relief washing over him in waves. His brother was not dead. If Drake was alive and able to rescue him, it meant one thing—Rose was behind this. His heart contracted with painful fear and longing. He should have known she’d not sit by complacently, waiting for her father to die.
A wooden ladder was lowered down to him a fewminutes later. William climbed out of the hole, squinting the whole while. As soon as he was clear of the hole, his brother grabbed him and embraced him hard. William clasped him back, his eyes so dazzled by the sunlight that he could hardly see.
“Deidra—where is she?”
“Down this way, we think. Come on.”
And he raced off. William jogged after him, blinking at the sights around him in disbelief. It looked as if a storm had hit the village. The debris-littered streets were devoid of people, the cottages shut up tight, shutters closed fast.
“What happened?” William asked.
“I know not,” Drake called over his shoulder.
At the far end of the village a small group gathered before a cottage—the same cottage where he had previously been tortured. Animals surrounded the cottage—ducks, sheep, horses, cows. All lounging. William’s gaze was immediately drawn to the red-haired woman leaning heavily against a balding blond man, also in contemplation of the cottage.
“Rose!” William called.
She turned her head toward him. It was Wallace who held her. She took several steps toward him, then he caught her up in his arms. He embraced her as tightly as he dared, knowing she suffered from Drake’s wound. “You did it, Rose,” he whispered into her hair.
She clung to him, her breath warm on his neck. “Thank God you’re alive.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “I feared we were too late.”
“We have a bit of a problem,” the earl of Kincreaginterrupted. William released Rose reluctantly, keeping an arm around her to support her. She leaned heavily against him.
The earl nodded to the cottage. “Have a look.”
William left Rose and went to the open door of the cottage, passing through the mob of loitering animals. They took scant notice of him.
The interior of the cottage was dim, but his eyes adjusted quickly. The witchpricker sat on a bench, Deidra beside him. He looked much different than he had the last time William had seen him. His face was pale, and his sparse gray hair was sticking up in tufts about his head. His fine black robes were torn and filthy. He held a dirk to Deidra’s neck, his wild gray eyes fixed on something in the far shadows. William turned his head, peering into the dark, and took an involuntary step back at the sight that greeted him.
Three wolves sat in a line, tongues lolling from their mouths, staring at Luthias Forsyth. They seemed to be smiling, daring him to do something with the dirk.
“Make her call them off!” Luthias cried. Sweat trickled down his temples.
Deidra gave William a worried look. “I’m sorry I told, Da, but I was afraid he’d hurt me.”
“It’s all right, Squirrel.” William took in the terrified witchpricker, the animals crowded around the cottage, and the waiting wolves. Something strange and sick and proud turned in his chest. “What happened here? Did you ask the animals for help?”
She nodded hesitantly. “He says he’ll kill me if the wolves come near. But I think he’ll kill me if I make themgo away. You, too. The one I sent to guard you was killed.” Her bottom lip wobbled, and her eyes filled with tears.
His daughter. Jesus God. She’d set the animals on the village and had probably kept them both alive long enough for Rose and Drake to arrive with reinforcements. He’d not understood. He’d thought he’d understood.Communing with animals.They surrounded her, protected her, did her bidding. They’d brought him food, and at least one had been killed for it. It made him weak to think of what she was capable of and how others would perceive this act.
“Where are the villagers?” William asked.
“They ran,” Luthias said, lip curling. “They deserted me. I know not where.”
“Da,” Deidra said, a whimper in her voice, her eyes bright. “I want to go home.”
One of the wolves fidgeted and whined. The witchpricker’s eyes widened.
“Mr. Forsyth, if she sends the wolves away, will you put down the dirk and release her?”
The witchpricker looked at him incredulously. “Are you mad? This is a dangerous witch. It is not in my authority to question a child, even if she is a witch, but it is in the king’s. He will be most interested to make her acquaintance.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” William unwrapped the bloodstained linen from his hand, exposing a perfectly functional hand.
