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A heavy fist slammed into the side of her head. The blow was hard enough to make her vision speckle. Her jaw unclenched, and he ripped his hand free.

The next thing she knew, she was tumbling backward off the warrior, hauled away by the fearsomely strong women.

Ailsa lunged at the man again, but they yanked her back, one of them twisting her arms behind her and binding her wrists with a rope.

Meanwhile, the warrior had heaved himself to his feet, blood running down his injured hand onto the floor. Agony pinched his face, yet his eyes now blazed silver. Drawing a knife from a sheath on his thigh with his uninjured hand, he took a threatening step toward her. “I’m going to cut you up for that.”

“Touch her again and you die.” Kayla had twisted free of the man holding her, elbowing him hard in the guts. She then scooped up the largest of her tattooing knives. Her eyes gleamed in the light of the cressets burning on the walls.

Snarling, the warrior turned on her, his iron blade glinting dully.

“Enough, Nech,” one of the women barked then.

Nech halted, high spots of color appearing on his cheekbones, even as the silver glow in his eyes dimmed. “You lasses are all the same,” he ground out, shooting the warrior Kayla had elbowed a glance, looking for support.

Wheezing as he rubbed his bruised belly, the other man grimaced, making it clear Nech was on his own now.

“Go and use your hand if you’re that desperate,” the woman replied brusquely. With that, she shoved Ailsa toward the door. “Come on. You’re done for the day.”

The heavy iron door swung shut, shuddering as metal hit stone.

Standing a few feet back, rubbing her sore wrists from where the rope had bit against flesh, Ailsa glowered at it.

The hunger that had writhed inside her earlier faded now, a dull chill replacing it.

She felt all shivery and strange. The blood she’d swallowed now churned in her gut.

Damn it.

She didn’t want to arouse suspicions. Didn’t want to do anything that would reach the king’s ears. But he’d hear about this.

All the same, she’d had to fight back. Nech had planned on using her, right there in that chair with his friend and Kayla looking on.

She should have felt cowed in the aftermath.

Instead, she felt cheated.

They’d pulled her away before she’d finished.

Another shiver rippled through her. Gods. She’d nearly taken his hand off.

Reaching up, she wiped the sticky blood off her face. She then began to pace the confined alcove.

She and Kayla had shared this small cell ever since their arrival at Craeg Aonaranach. She’d explored little of the broch since then. Just this alcove and the workshop where they spent each day. She hadn’t seen daylight in far too long.

It sounded as if a storm was lashing the broch right now; she could hear rain battering the stone at the back of the alcove. Even through the thick walls, the crack of thunder reached her.

How she wished she were out in it. She craved the brush of wind on her face, the smell of cold, fresh air.

And freedom.

She needed to get out. She needed to stop Niall. And she had to free the Circines before he sent them to war.

But escaping this place wouldn’t fix everything, would it?

This fort wasn’t the only thing locking her in. No. Learning the truth from Kayla, about what she was, had built a second wall around her.

Things were strained between Ailsa and her mentor these days. They worked side-by-side each day, yet whenever they returned to this cell, Ailsa kept her own counsel. Kayla likely thought she couldn’t forgive her for keeping secrets, but it went deeper than that.