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“So am I.”

And as they turned the curve of the path and the castle rose before them, Rogene wondered how many they would lose and if she and Angus would get out of the castle alive at all.

Chapter 26

They passed through the gates with no problems, and Rogene looked up at the heavy portcullis with sharp iron edges. The courtyard was muddy, rain bubbling in the black puddles of the dirt-packed ground. The keep loomed tall against the leaden sky, gray and misty through the curtain of rain. Surrounded by four walls, they passed by two buildings. There was no one in the courtyard—everyone was probably inside, hiding from the rain…which wasn’t great news if they had to fight.

But no one threw a second glance at them as they proceeded. Sentinels stood on the walls, huddling in their cloaks, no doubt just wishing rain would stop. No one expected an attack in such weather.

“Where do you think he is?” Rogene asked Raghnall, who carried a sack on his back.

“Catrìona?” he said.

His sister held a light chest under her armpit. “There’s a dungeon,” she said. “He could be there.”

Raghnall nodded and turned to his men, who walked behind. “Follow me,” he said. “To the dungeon.”

They proceeded to the keep and once they’d entered through a heavy, arched door, he leaned to Rogene. “If we encounter someone, I’ll do the talking.”

Again, a protest formed in her gut. Let him do the talking? What if he said something wrong?

But at the beach, allowing him to take the lead had worked well. The bloodshed had gone as seamlessly as possible given the advantage of the enemy in numbers. Raghnall had been right about everything so far. Was it so bad to work as a team? It wasn’t about Rogene being the best at everything. She knew she wasn’t, clearly. Raghnall was an experienced warrior and someone who one could entrust with their life, as he’d just proved.

It was about relying on others. About giving up control. About trusting life.

Back in the twenty-first century, she didn’t trust others with her mom’s research. She told herself she didn’t want to share her mother’s legacy. But it was just an excuse. The real reason was that Rogene feared trusting others.

Her parents had let her down when they died. It was irrational, but that was how a twelve-year-old Rogene had felt. Abandoned and betrayed and very, very afraid.

Her aunt and uncle had been the only two people left on whom she could rely.

But they’d showed her she couldn’t count on them after all. They’d showed her she and David were on their own.

There was no team. There was no family. There were just people trying to survive.

But Raghnall had managed to win down there. He’d been right about every single thing. It was because he cared, she realized. Because he was saving his brother.

What that told her was if she gave up control with people who really cared about the outcome, it would all work out.

And she had to admit, she really liked the sense of teamwork, of being part of something.

But whether they could continue to work as a team inside the keep remained to be seen.

Still carrying cargo, they approached the tower. Raghnall pushed the heavy door open and entered. There were about fifteen warriors there. Many of them sat and played cards. Others stood and talked, drinking wine and ale. The room wasn’t big but was full of stuff—boxes, chests, casks, sacks, firewood.

As heads turned to him, Raghnall froze on the doorstep. Rogene’s hand slid to the handle of her dagger under her cloak. For what felt like an eternity, no one said anything.

“What are ye waiting for, man?” said one of the warriors. “Come inside. ’Tis raining.”

Rogene sighed out with relief. They went inside. Raghnall put the sack in the corner and looked around, water dripping down his cloak and hood into the reeds on the floor. It smelled like a London subway car during rain—wet wool and stones. Rogene elbowed her way through the gathering of warriors and put the roll she’d been carrying on a stack of boxes.

Catrìona went inside, too, but not all their warriors could fit in. As she laid the box on the floor, all eyes of the enemy men landed on her, and they frowned.

“Who are ye, lass?” one of them said.

Rogene felt blood wash down from her face. She quickly glanced at Raghnall but couldn’t see his face from under his hood. Goddamn it! Was he just going to stand there like a statue?

Panic gripped her throat. She had to do something. She was wrong to trust Raghnall. He was no good.