His pride stung that his sister should feel the need to protect him with stories designed to send him scurrying away to his own safety. But there was no time for argument. Before he could respond, the door swung open wide, admitting Torquil, flanked by two men on either side.
“What a touching scene we interrupt,” Torquil sneered. “A family reunion, is it? And you dinna think to invite me?”
Christiana turned to face her elder brother, lifting her chin as she did so. “I heard whispers from the servants that Colm had returned. That he’d returned as a prisoner in our own dungeons. I had need to see his condition for myself.”
His sister was a MacDowylt through and through, brave beyond all good sense.
“And now that you’ve seen for yerself, go back to yer chambers, Christiana. Unless you fancy keeping Malcolm company on a more permanent basis.” Torquil lifted a hand, motioning toward the wall. “We’ve chains and irons aplenty if that’s yer wish.”
“You must send him away, Torquil. Free him and send him away at once.”
“You’ve seen this?” he asked, edging closer to her.
Malcolm recognized the hesitation on her face, as he was sure Torquil did. Christiana’s gift allowed her glimpses of what was to come, but the knowledge came with a price. She could not utter a falsehood about what she had seen. Torquil knew that as well as he did.
“No,” she answered on a sigh. “I have not seen this. But I believe it to be so.”
Torquil chuckled, looking from one sibling to the other. “Your blind loyalty is admirable, Christiana. Too bad you give it to the wrong brother.” He snapped his fingers and held one hand aloft. “Take her to her chambers and see that she remains there.”
One of the guards stepped up to Christiana’s side and, with a nod, followed her to the door, where she paused.
“Odin’s blessing be upon you for a safe trip home, Malcolm,” she called over her shoulder, before resuming her sedate pace through the door and up the stairs beyond.
When the door closed, Torquil began to pace back and forth, arms clasped behind him. Once, twice, three times he passed before he came to a stop in front of Malcolm.
“Return home? That, I can assure you, will take more than Odin’s blessings to accomplish. Did you take me for a fool? Did you think I’d no realize you were here? That you walked upon my land?” He shook his head as if sorely disappointed. “I expected better from so great a warrior as you claim yerself to be.”
“I seem to have grown careless in my ways.”
Though how Torquil had known was another matter. The Mark of Protection prevented his brother from sensing Malcolm’s presence, so there had to have been another means of discovery.
“Indeed, you have.” Torquil nodded his head in agreement. “Too long spent in the easy life, playing laird of my new holdings. Well, we’ll have to see if we can’t change that. Ulfr, come! You remember Ulfr, don’t you? He’s captain of my personal guard now.”
Torquil motioned toward Malcolm, and Ulfr approached, a large key dangling from his hand. The enormous guardsman, who had long been a favorite of Torquil’s, jerked at the chains above Malcolm’s head, sending a new fire of agony shooting through his wrists and arms.
Malcolm clenched his teeth, determined his captors would see no sign of his pain.
Even as the chains rattled to a noisy pile on the floor, another noise drew Malcolm’s attention. A scraping of wood against stone in the corner of the room.
It took all the willpower at his command not to fight against what he knew was to come as two of Torquil’s men dragged him across the room. Fighting now, with his strength not yet restored, would do him more harm than good.
His mind raced to come up with something—anything—that might keep him out of the death hole. But while escape from such a place was beyond unlikely, ending up down there with fresh wounds could only serve to hasten his demise.
He’d need to bide his time. Build his strength. Pray for an opportunity.
“You surprise me, Torquil. I dinna think even you would stoop to so low as to toss yer own brother into the oubliette.”
“And what a great pleasure it is to be able to surprise you yet.”
The stench wafting up out of the hole was itself enough to gag a man. When he turned to face Torquil, his brother had already pulled a cloth from his pocket to cover his nose.
“There, there, little brother. Think on the advantages I am about to afford you. No luxuries here. Perhaps you’ll regain that sharp edge you used to value so much.” Behind the cloth he chuckled. “That or you’ll rot.”
Malcolm had only a second to prepare himself before the men on either side shoved against him and he pitched over the edge of the opening into the black hell below. He landed hard, knocking the air from his lungs as his shoulder took the brunt of the fall onto the slimy, straw-covered stones.
With an effort, he rolled to his back, staring up through the hole above him.
As if he’d already dismissed Malcolm from his mind, Torquil had turned his back.
