The ship slowed, the sails spilling wind. A moment later, the first warning arrows hissed overhead, thudding into the ground scant feet from the attackers’ lines.
The effect was immediate. The raiders looked up and saw the MacNeil warship sliding into the bay. Another horn sounded, this one deeper. A command.
The raiders retreated in unison, grabbing what wounded they could and sprinting towards a rocky path that led inland. Jamie ground his teeth, aching to give chase, aching to make them pay for their audacity. But through his fury he forced himself to think this through.
The raiders might look like they’d broken, but they weren’t panicking. They weren’t running headlong for safety or scrambling for whatever escape they could find. Their movements were orderly, disciplined.
Like they were withdrawing at a prearranged signal.
“Ready the boats!” Cailean barked. “We’ll take a party ashore, secure the village, then give chase.”
“Aye, laird!”
Jamie was already moving, boots thudding against the deck as he followed Cailean into one of the long boats. The moment their boat hit the surf that pounded against the beach, he jumped out, wading through icy shallows and up the beach.
The villagers gave a ragged cheer as he and Cailean strode forward. Jamie took in the scene—injured men and women pulled behind the barricade, a few dead raiders left in the sand, smoke drifting from a building that must’ve been set alight earlier. But most of the village stood. It could’ve been far, far worse.
A fisherman with a bandaged arm stepped forward. “Laird MacNeil, Laird Donald, thank the gods. They came at dawn—took us by surprise. We’ve been holding them back since.”
“Did they take anything?” Jamie asked, scanning the burned-out building, the shattered crates.
The man shook his head. “Nothing. We hid the boats, like we’re meant to.”
“So they just…what? Wanted to break some walls and leave?” Jamie pressed.
The fisherman hesitated. “They fought to keep us from sending a runner. Then they kept looking out to sea. Like they were waiting.”
Waiting. Something settled in Jamie’s gut, a dread he couldn’t quite name.
Behind him, Cailean was giving orders—some of his men to return to the ship, others to give chase.
Jamie’s gaze wandered to the path the attackers had taken. How had they known it was there? And where was the ship that had brought them here? None of this made any sense. Unless…
“They were waiting for us,” he said slowly. “Theywantedus to come. Just like they want us to pursue them now. That’s why they broke so easily. That’s why they fled inland instead of taking a ship. Because they want to keep us busy. They want us away from Dun Mallach.”
Cailean’s eyes sharpened. “What are ye saying, lad?”
Jamie’s stomach dropped.
Elise.
Rose. Jenna. Everyone left in the castle.
“Cailean,” Jamie said, his voice almost a whisper. “There’s nothing here worth attacking. So why here?”
Understanding dawned on the laird’s face. He spun towards the boats, already running.
“Back to the ship!” he roared. “Now! All of ye—move!”
Startled men hurried to obey. Jamie vaulted into the waiting boat, nearly capsizing it as he landed. His pulse thundered in his ears. Every thought was the same thought:Get back. Get back. Elise—gods, please be safe.
Cailean stood in the prow of the little boat and shouted to the steersman still aboard the warship. “Bring us about! Full sails! It’s a diversion! Dun Mallach is under attack!”
The sailors lurched into motion, hauling lines, swinging the prow sharply north. The longboats reached the ship and Jamie scrambled urgently up onto the deck, turning to face north, in the direction of Dun Mallach.
How had he been so stupid? How had he fallen for such an obvious ruse?
The ship surged forward as if it understood his urgency. Jamie gripped the gunwale until his knuckles went white, breath coming hard as the wind whipped around him.
