Page 54 of Kilted Sins

Soon thereafter, Enya took a deep, shaky breath and seemed to compose herself as she turned around in his arms to face him.

“They didnae allow it, did they?” she asked, already knowing the answer and even looking as though she had already accepted their fate.

Cillian shook his head. “Nay. Nay, they didnae.”

Nodding slowly, Enya pulled away from Cillian and Cillian let her, taking a few steps back himself. He wanted to fight this decision; he truly did. But how could he go against his entire council? How could he disregard everything they said? Going against the council meant going against the clan, and Cillian couldn’t do such a thing.

“I see,” said Enya, her voice choked and distant.

That was all she said before she fled the room, leaving the door open behind her. Cillian could hear her footsteps echo down the hallway, fast as she retreated from him, and he didn’t try to chase her.

How could he? What comfort could he offer? What promises?

He couldn’t promise her a thing. All he could do was hope for a miracle.

Tears welled in Enya’s eyes, pouring unbridled down her cheeks. Deep down, she had always feared the council would refuse the change, as if she and Cillian had been doomed from the start. Fearing it and experiencing it, though, were two entirely different things, and Enya’s heart shattered the moment Cillian revealed the council’s decision.

He wouldn’t go against them, she knew. He wouldn’t fight for them the way she wanted him to and there was nothing she could do to change that.

Would Thora refuse to marry him, she wondered? But what other choice did she have if everyone insisted that she had to? What could either of them do in the face of such resistance, when two councils and the king himself wanted this union?

Enya couldn’t live with such a burden, though. She couldn’t bring herself to attend the wedding or the feast or be around either of them at all, but removing herself forever from their lives would hurt just as much. Either way, no matter what she did, the pain would always be there, gnawing at her and eating her from the inside. There was no escape. There was no salvation.

“Enya.”

Enya came to a sudden halt just before she would collide with Duncan. He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, her vision blurry with tears, but there was something in the tone of his voice that prevented her from moving, like the roar of a predator chasing its prey.

To say that Duncan had become strange in the past few days would be an understatement. From the very first moment Enya had met him, he had seemed like a strange man, but now he was wherever she went, as though he was constantly following her around the castle.

“Duncan, I didnae see ye,” she said, sniffling as she wiped the tears from her face. “Forgive me, I was goin’ tae me chambers⁠—”

“Are ye alright?” Duncan asked, interrupting her. “Did somethin’ happen?”

“Everythin’ is fine,” Enya said, simply because she couldn’t—nor did she want to—explain everything to Duncan in that moment. “Excuse me.”

As she spoke, she side-stepped him, eager to get to her chambers and close herself off from the rest of the world. As she continued down the hallway, though, she heard Duncan’s footsteps behind her, following her. But what truly unsettled her was the fact that he didn’t speak, and when she glanced over her shoulder at him, he had come too close, swiftly closing the distance between them.

Enya barely had the time to see the glint of a blade in his hand before he brought down the hilt of his knife against her temple. Within moments, the world went dark as Enya was plunged into unconsciousness, not a single sound escaping her lips.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

When Enya opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the chill. The second, the darkness. For several moments, until her eyes adjusted to the low light, she could see nothing of her surroundings, her location remaining a mystery to her.

Then the throbbing in her head made its presence known, a terrible pain radiating from her temple all around her skull. She frowned at the sensation, trying to remember what it was that had brought her to this place in this state, but her mind was foggy and her thoughts sluggish, like fingers running through molasses.

Slowly, she assessed her situation. She was sitting on a chair, one which creaked with every movement she made. Her movements, though, were limited, her hands bound behind her back, and her ankles tied together. The rope was tight around her and as she tested to see if it had any give, it only dug into her skin, chafing it.

Then, there was the matter of the room in which she had been left. There was at least one window to her left, but it had been covered, so that only a few rays of sunlight filtered through. There was an orange glow to the room, but she could spot no torch, which could only mean in was resting on the wall behind her, but its light didn’t reach the farthest reaches of the room.

Hearing footsteps near her, Enya’s head snapped up to see none other than Duncan there, and it was then that she remembered what had happened to her. He had attacked her, she thought, just as she was leaving Cillian’s study, hitting her on the side of the head with the handle of his knife. But where had he taken her? Surely, they couldn’t still be in the castle. Duncan wouldn’t be as foolish as to keep her there.

“Good,” Duncan said as he approached, circling her. “Ye’re awake. Fer a moment, I thought I had hit ye too hard.”

Enya glared at him, bile rising to the back of her throat. She had known something had been strange about Duncan lately, but she would have never guessed he would do something like this. Then again, she didn’t know why he had brought her there at all. Her first instinct was to think he feared her powers and wanted to get rid of her for the sake of the clan and of Cillian, but if that was the case, then he could have simply killed her. Why would he go to all the trouble of making her unconscious and dragging her to another location, risking being seen in the process?

“Ach, dinnae look at me like that,” Duncan said with a small chuckle. “Ye should be glad we can use ye.”

“Use me?” Enya asked, her thoughts still slow and sluggish. It took her a few moments to understand what Duncan was saying. He and whoever else was working with him wanted her powers, and that was why he had been asking her all those questions.