Page 34 of Marin’s Promise

She had to turn back now. To cut the head off the snake so that the rest of the body might also die.

She took the key to the gate from the small locket at her belt and passed it to Anice. Her sister looked at the key in her hand and frowned.

“Is something wrong?” Leila looked up between them, her eyes luminous beneath the glint of her small helm.

“Nay, lamb,” Anice said. “’Tis nothing to concern yourself over.”

Ella took Leila’s hand and drew her away, but not before casting a suspicious glance at her elder sisters first.

“I must do this,” Marin whispered. “Otherwise we will lose Werrick Castle.”

Anice nodded slowly, and Marin knew her sister understood. Piquette gave a whimper and nudged Marin’s palm with his large wet nose.

“Go with God, Sister.” Anice clasped Marin’s shoulder with her free one.

Marin lowered her head in reverence and remained thus as the soldiers marched past her. Sir Richard, who led at the front, did not notice her absence, and for that she was grateful. He would never condone the risk she was about to take.

The light of the torches bled away as Marin let the last of the soldiers pass by with their curious glances. But they did not question their lady. They moved on at the sweep of her hand until she was alone in the dark with only the sound of her breathing echoing around her. So deep was the darkness, she could not see her hand passing before her face.

She waited for the jumble of footsteps to shuffle out of range before she fished out the stub of a candle from her pocket and struck at her flint to light it. Now able to see, she turned and quickly made her way down the tunnel, retracing her steps to the trap door. This would be her one opportunity to truly save them all.

* * *

Bran'sfitful sleep came abruptly to an end with an insistent pounding on the door. He bolted awake, sitting up and nearly sinking in the downy mattress beneath him. “What is it?”

“Bran.” Drake’s voice on the other side of the door came with urgency.

Bran climbed out of the ridiculously large bed. “Aye, come in.”

The door opened and Drake entered, his mouth set in a thin line. “The prisoners are no’ in their cells.”

A chill of apprehension trickled down Bran's back. “Where are they?”

“I dinna know, but all the cells are empty.” Drake paced the room. “We searched the castle before I came to ye. No’ much to be found save for the servants left behind and our reivers.”

“How did they not know an entire dungeon full of prisoners escaped?” Bran demanded.

Drake folded his arms over his chest. “I believe they were too far into the whisky.”

He was most likely correct. When Bran went to bed, most were too drunk to know their head from their arse.

A panicked thought pounded through Bran’s skull. “What of the warden’s daughters?”

Drake shook his head. “Gone as well.”

Bran ran to the windows and pushed open the shutters. A harsh wind blew in and spattered him with rain water. He ignored the discomfort and stared into the downpour, half expecting to see a trail of soldiers trekking over the moonlit land before him. No such luck.

He pulled the shutters closed. “Round up the men sober enough to be of use. I want those lasses found. Having the warden’s daughters on hand is part of the deal.”

“I willna let ye down.” Drake gave a stiff nod and quickly departed.

Without Marin or any of the other sisters present, the servants were more likely to revolt. Aye, they were only servants, but the mass of them could still take on the reivers if they were sufficiently enraged. He’d seen it happen enough times to not underestimate their force.

A crack of thunder sounded from outside and the patter of rain against the shutters intensified.

Bran snatched up his trews and pulled them on. He caught sight of the gambeson he’d flopped over the back of a wooden chair after Anice had left. He lifted it and checked the pocket where he'd tucked the key to the dungeon. His fingertips grazed over fabric without catching the coolness of metal. Irritation and rage seared into the muscles along the back of his neck. Anice had not been there to seduce him. The chit had stolen the key.

Damn the daughters of Werrick.