Though over a year and a half had passed, thoughts of the way the French king had sacrificed men who’d protected him over the years for power and greed, fury still burned through Rónán. Nor could he allow his anger to overshadow the need to free Lathir’s father.
In the wisps of gray coming from the opening, Rónán turned. “Wait while I locate the flint, candles, and dry tinder.” Once he’d retrieved these items, after a few strikes of his knife on the flint, a cascade of sparks ignited a flame on the dry shavings. He lit oneof the tapers.
Stone scraped as two knights near the entry moved the stone back into place.
Once each person had lit a candle, Rónán raised his taper. Golden light wavered upon the damp walls. “Let us find Lord Sionn.”
* * * *
Lathir kept her hand near her dagger as they worked their way through the narrow passage. She wrinkled her nose at the growing stench as they neared the dungeon. A soft glow from a hidden opening allowed her a peek into thedank confines.
Torchlight exposed narrow cells, many with prisoners inside, sprawled upon the cold stone floor. Errant groans sifted within the muted howl of wind and the roar of the sea outside. Fury ignited that in addition to the brutality her father had suffered, he endured such filth.
Had she not despised Earl of Ardgar before, out of contempt that he permitted anyone to live in such squalor, she would do so now.
Throat tight with fear, she scanned the foul confines. Please God, let him be alive!
“Lord Sionn is in the cell next to the end,” Rónán whispered.
She shifted her gaze. Sprawled on the floor, her father’s right leg lay at an unnatural angle, and blood smeared his torn garb. Her body shook with fury. “I will kill Lord Ardgar for what he has doneto my father!”
“He will pay for his foul deed,” Kieran hissed.“That I swear.”
“As I. Nay doubt Sir Feradach played a part in your father’s suffering as well.” A muscle worked in Rónán’s jaw, the outrage matching her own. “Once Lord Sionn is safe, he will taste my blade.”
At the reminder of Rónán’s horrific past, of the man who’d served him with such cruelty, another surge of anger shot through her. “Aye, all involved will regret their misdeeds.”
Drips of water plopped in the distance as she started forward.
At the wall adjacent to her father’s cell, she peered through the hidden slit. This close, she could make out the bruises atop the swelling on his face.
Tears burned her eyes. “Saint’s breath.”
“I dinna see any guard,”Rónán said.
“Nor I.” Kieran grunted. “Given the location of the fortress, neither am I surprised.”
After one last glance around the dungeon,Rónánknelt, ran his fingers along the chiseled stone as the galloglass he’d spoken to had described. After a gentle push, the hewn stone scraped open.
“I know you are anxious to see your father,” her betrothed said, “but I will go first.” Hand on his sword, Kieran crept inside the cell. After looking around, he pressed his finger over his lips, then waved her forward.
Pulse racing, she hurried over and knelt beside him. “Father, ’tis Lathir.”
On a groan, swollen lids flickered open. Confusion lined his brow, softened to joy. “Lathir?” he rasped.
Tears burning her throat, she nodded. “We are taking you home.”
Lord Sionn glanced at the men moving into the cell; his gaze settled on Rónán. His throat worked. “You shouldna have allowed Lathir to come.”
“My lord, have you ever tried to dissuade your daughter?” Rónán asked,his voice dry.
A pain-filled smile flickered on the man’s face. “Aye, she is astubborn lass.”
“I had to see you, ensure you were…” Her voice almost broke. She took a deep, steadying breath. “You are alive, Father. ’Tis allthat matters.”
Groans from nearby cells echoed in the dank space as her betrothed stepped to her side. “My lord, thank God we found you in time.”
“Lord Craigshyre.” Her father shot him a questioning look. “I didna expect to see you.”
