Page 149 of Highland Spy

“We’re close enough, aren’t we?” she asked.

“About two hours away.” He nodded toward a pair of hills to the right.

“Perfect.” She swung onto her horse and settled into the saddle. Her steed gave a soft whinny. “Sylvi and Delilah will have no doubt returned and Murdoch will be healing. We can devise a plan to save her. One Kenneth will not expect.”

Connor’s forefinger tapped absently against the reins while he thought. “Fine,” he agreed. “To Kindrochit.”

Their pace was faster than when they’d traveled to and from Urquhart, but it was by no means the same jarring speed that had threatened to tear her to pieces earlier.

She hoped she was right in stopping Connor from going straight to Kenneth. If the others were at Kindrochit as she hoped, they could coordinate a unified attack. Had Connor gone on his own, and had Kenneth been expecting him, there was a high possibility he would not make it out alive.

She chanced a sideways glance at Connor, discreetly studying the proud set of his jaw, the ease with which he rode his horse. He loved her.

No one had ever loved her.

And she wouldn’t let him come to harm so long as she could help it. The churning rush of River Clunie met her ears before the peak of Kindrochit came into view. The roof, then the stone face with its dark windows. Then the castle appeared, with dozens of riderless horses bent over the lush grass.

Ariana slowed her horse on instinct and did a quick count. There were at least forty horses with empty saddles upon their backs.

Connor slowed beside her as well. “It’s the king.” There was something quiet and dark in his tone.

“Why do you think he is here?”

Connor smirked. “I’m going to guess it has something to do with my inability to kill Kenneth. A mercy I now find myself regretting.”

As they descended the hill, a force of soldiers came into view. The telltale red and yellow uniforms of the Gentlemen Pensioners, the king’s personal guard.

King James.

As Connor had correctly guessed.

They welcomed her and Connor with stern faces. “The king wishes to see you,” said a man with dark hair.

Two guards came to stand beside them.

“I’d assumed as much,” Connor said wryly.

Ariana’s pulse quickened. This was no welcome.

They were being treated like criminals.

They strode in through the castle gates and through the courtyard to the great hall, inside which the king stood at the head of the room on the small, raised dais that usually sat empty. The king stood wearing the heavy mantle of authority, the typical scowl of disinterest on his face now a deeper shade of pink than Ariana remembered.

A woman with thick brown hair stood at his side, her nose and eyes reddened as if she’d been crying.

Connor surged forward, but was caught at the shoulders by the guards and held in position. “Cora.” He bellowed her name with such volume, it echoed around them and caught at Ariana’s heart.

“Connor, what have ye done?” Cora’s voice was thin with emotion. “Why dinna ye tell me of all this?”

Connor’s shoulders sagged and he looked more defeated than Ariana had ever seen him.

“Connor Grant.” The king’s voice rang sharp on the bare stone walls. “I hereby arrest you for the act of treason.”

Chapter 36

Treason meant death.

Ariana blinked in shock and turned to Connor to find him staring blankly at the king, as if he too could not believe the words.