My lord. A title he’d yet to become used to. And with Elspet’s life in the balance, the legacy he’d fought for meant little. At this moment, he’d give up everything for her life.
He shook his head. “I canna sleep.”
A soft rap sounded on the door.
He glanced up. “Enter.”
Rónán stepped inside, followed by Lord Odhran and Taog.
“How is she?” theTemplar asked.
“Still asleep.”
His friends halted near the bed. “Has shewoken at all?”
“Nay,” he rasped.
“I willna ask if you have tried to sleep,” Rónán said. “You look like Hades.”
Cailin rubbed the back of his neck, gave a rough exhale. “I closed my eyes a time or two, but all I see is her taking the dagger meant for me. If only I had attacked the castle earlier,she would be—”
“’Tis done,” Taog snapped. “You made the decision you believed best at the time, a choice I supported.”
“As I.” Lord Odhran stepped forward. “Your people await you. They have heard naught but lies fed to them by your uncle and need to know you are a man they can trust, one who will treat them fairly, a leader they can turn to.”
His people.
He glanced at Elspet. Face pale, her breath came in the slow, steady rhythm of sleep.
Aye, ’twas his castle, the people within his responsibility. After all that was sacrificed, never would he fail them. As well, familiarizing himself with his stronghold, getting to know residents, making a list of things that needed to be done would keephis mind busy.
Cailin turned to the healer. “After I meet with my people, I will be going through the castle ledgers with the steward. If Elspet wakens, send for me.”
She nodded.“Aye, my lord.”
* * * *
Late afternoon sunlight spilled through the crenellations, leaving shadows like jagged teeth as Cailin forced his legs to move as he crossed the wall walk. The day’s events had aggravated his injury and every step was painful.
Rónán opened the door to the turret leading to the dungeon. “You are all but stumbling on your feet. Go, sleep. I will check the dungeon and reportto you later.”
Caught in the golden rays of sunset, the entry blurred before him. Gritting his teeth, Cailin entered, started up the steps, using the wall for support. “After I am done, I will check on Elspet, then try to rest.”
“With the way you are weaving on your feet, I may have to carry you back.”
Cailin grunted, shoved up another carved stone step.
“Bloody stubborn.”
“Nay, irritated that I havena been here earlier.” Torchlight wavered upon the dank, curved walls as he went. “After I spoke with the people of Tiran Castle, I visited Sir Petrus. God’s blade, after the beating he took, ’tis a miracle he still lives.” He shook his head. “Gaufrid died too quickly, but at least he is dead. To think, I was going to do naught but banish him.I was a fool.”
“You are an honorable man. However horrific your uncle’s actions, you didna want family blood on your hands. When most would have slain him without question, youoffered mercy.”
“Which the bastard discarded.” Cailin jerked open the dungeon door. The stench hit him first. Their progress tangled with the moans of men as the scrape of sodden wood reverberated within the dank, cold chambers. “God in heaven, to allow anyone to live in such filth. Rónán, fetch the steward. Tell him to bring me a list of every man within and the charges against them immediately.”
“Aye.” Face grim, his friend hurried out the entry, pulling the door behind him.
Bile rose in his throat as he slowly walked the length of the dungeon, noting the fear in the men’s eyes, those who dared to look at him. He shuddered to think what they had endured beneath his uncle’s cruelty.
