Authors: Diana Cosby
Tags: #Historical Romance, #Paranormal Romance, #Historical Paranormal Romance, #Highlands, #Highlanders, #Highland Warriors, #Scotland Highland, #Scotland, #Love Story, #Fae, #Fairy, #Fairies, #Romance
His Enchantment (11 page)
King Alexander shook his head. “’Tis blocked.”
Chapter Nine
The escape route was blocked? The anger in the king’s voice matched Trálin’s. This explained why they hadna escaped prior to his arrival. Queen Margaret was a strong-willed woman who would follow her king into the harsh weather without hesitation. So like Catarine.
“The Comyns made a wise decision to nae underestimate you, Your Grace.” Trálin turned to Catarine. “Before we leave, I wish to introduce you to Lady Catarine MacLaren.” ’Twould raise too many questions to reveal her title as princess.
King Alexander’s brows raised with surprise. “My sincere pleasure to meet you, Lady Catarine.”
“And mine,” the queen replied.
“I wish ’twas under difference circumstance,” Catarine replied.
“Indeed,” Trálin agreed, “but now we must leave.” He glanced toward the window overlooking the castle ledge. As quickly, he dismissed the idea of crafting a makeshift rope and attempting to reach the ledge below. Even if they had enough material, with the length of time the climb would take, the cold, brutal winds could easily mean death. “Is there another way we can escape Stirling Castle?”
The king shook his head. “None except through the gatehouse or a side door, but for either, first we would have to reach the bailey.”
Bedamned. Without the added ranks of his men, or the fey warriors, little hope existed to challenge the castle guards. Catarine’s ability to become invisible came to mind. Except she would have to hold her breath the entire way across the bailey to remain invisible and reach the guards and render them unconscious. He shoved aside the thought. ’Twas too dangerous.
“Trálin,” Catarine said. “We also have help from the servants.”
“Help from the servants?” the king asked, his voice skeptical.
“Aye,” he replied. “Your Grace, a servant below recognized me.” At the king’s horror, Trálin shook his head. “Nay, she kept her silence and explained that she and others in Stirling Castle are outraged by the Comyns abducting you and Queen Margaret. And, if we needed their aid, they would be there.”
King Alexander frowned. “If so, why have those in the castle who support me nae banded to free us before now?”
“Your Grace,” Trálin explained, “though substantial in number, they are afraid to confront a well trained and very large guard.”
The king’s mouth tightened. “That makes sense. The Comyns will regret using their men for their own greed.” King Alexander glanced toward the door. “As for our escape, while those loyal to me distract the guards, if we don common garb, we could slip out the castle gates.”
“In the dark of the night with naught but torchlight, I believe it will work,” Trálin agreed, thankful he’d nae asked Catarine to endanger herself by facing the guards alone. “One more thing, Your Grace.” In brief, he explained about the guard who had allowed them entry into the castle and had warned them nae to leave the great room. “Once he returns on rounds and finds us gone—”
“He will sound the alarm,” the king finished, his expression grim.
“Aye, ’tis why we must hurry.” Lord Grey met the queen’s worried gaze. “Your Grace, will you be able to travel?”
A determined grimace tightened Queen Margaret’s lips. “None will stop me.”
Aye, she was Scotland’s queen indeed, a woman her knights were proud to follow. Trálin handed the king a sword, then a dagger before handing a second dagger to the queen. “For your safety, I will go first.”
King Alexander nodded.
With a glance at Catarine, Trálin led them from the chamber. The batter of wind against a window echoed through the corridor as they hurried toward the steps. At the entry to the turret, he halted and raised his hand. With a prayer nay guards ascended the curved steps, he peered around the corner.
“’Tis empty,” Lord Grey whispered.
“Good,” King Alexander replied.
Torchlight scraped the hewn stone like angry claws that left ominous swaths of black twisted light on the curved walls as Trálin led them down. The soft pad of their steps echoed against the silence, each moan of wind, each distant call of a castle guard leaving him further on edge. Blast it, time was running out. They must escape. To fail meant they all would die.
Near the bottom, the murmur of voices echoed with a soft whisper.
Trálin raised his hand and halted. On edge, he leaned forward and scanned the great room. Against the glow of flames burning in the hearth, he made out two women sitting on the floor together in quiet conversation. The others within the massive chamber lay tucked beneath their blankets in haphazard groups.
Relief swept through him. “No guards are about, Your Grace.”
“Excellent,” the king replied.
Catarine exhaled with relief.
“Your Grace, “Trálin whispered. “I will be but a moment.”
The king nodded.
With quiet steps, he started across the great room. As he passed the two women in discussion, the woman with red hair glanced over, stiffened.
Trálin nodded at her, kept walking toward the woman who’d offered help before. From the corner of his eye, he saw the red-haired woman hesitate.
Please let her return to her discussion.
Please let her return to her discussion.
Shrewd eyes narrowed as she continued to stare at him. After a long moment, the red-haired woman returned to her conversation.
Thank God in heaven. Lord Grey glanced toward the entry.
The heavy wooden door remained closed.
Except the guard would soon make his rounds. Several steps later, he knelt beside the woman who’d offered aid. “Are you awake?”
Groggy eyes opened, looked up. She quickly sat up. “My lord.”
He placed his finger over his lips. “I need your help.”
Her eyes widened. “The king and queen?”
“Aye,” he replied. “They are hidden in the turret with the woman I came with.”
Trálin made a quick scan around the chamber to ensure they remained unwatched, then faced her. “We all need common garb. Warm cloaks to travel. Can you procure them?”
“Aye, Lord Grey.”
“You said there are others who would help us as well?” Trálin asked.
“They will, my lord,” she replied.
“Excellent,” Trálin said. “Once we have donned our garb, we will need you and the others to create a disturbance while we escape.”
The woman hesitated. “My lord, regardless of our distraction, the gatehouse will remain guarded.”
“It will, but the guards’ attention will be on the mayhem, and give us the opportunity to knock them out and escape.”
She nodded. “My Lord, I will be but a moment.” After a quick look around, the woman stood. Dust motes swirled in her wake as she hurried toward the two women still deep in conversation.
Trálin curled his hand on his dagger. Had he misjudged her?
At her approach, the two women turned. The woman with the red hair motioned them closer. After furious whispers, the two women hurried down a corridor.
Trálin exhaled, released his hold on the hilt.
The elder woman returned to his side. “My lord, the women are gathering others and will set a fire in the upper rooms of the castle. Posthaste, tell King Alexander and Queen Margaret to follow me.”
He nodded and rushed to the turret. “Everything is set. Come.” He led them toward a darkened corridor where the woman waited.
At their approach, she curtsied to the king and queen. “This way, Your Grace.” She guided them along the passageway.
A creak sounded. Yellow candlelight spilled out of a door near the end.
“Quickly,” the woman urged.
Trálin followed, thankful to find the woman he’d seen talking earlier shaking out simple gowns and thick undergarments along with serviceable common garb.
“Your Grace,” the red-haired woman called, “I will help the women. Please follow me.”
Without hesitation, Queen Margaret and Catarine dashed into a private area to change.
“This way, Your Grace, Lord Grey.” The other woman led them to a small chamber, handed them the serviceable garb. “The thick wool will help keep you warm as you travel.”
“My thanks,” King Alexander said. “Your loyalty will be remembered.”
A blush darkened her cheeks in the candlelight. “’Tis an honor to help you, Your Grace.” With a bow, she turned and departed.
Once they’d finished securing their garb, Trálin and the king rejoined the others.
A shuffle at the entry sounded, the door shoved open, and a dark-haired woman rushed inside, her face flushed. “The fire is set.”
“Excellent,” the woman helping the group replied. “Your Grace—”
“Fire!” a woman shouted from the great room.
Screams echoed within the keep. Doors thumped, and guards shouted for water.
“This way!” the woman helping them called.
Keeping Catarine close to his side, Trálin followed the woman. As if in an odd maze, they wove through half-lit blackness, the scents of aged meat alerting him they passed through where they cured the venison and boar. A door creaked open, and he stepped out.
Distant torchlight exposed the bailey. Trálin flattened himself within the shadows of the building. “Catarine.”
“Here,” she whispered.
“Please check around the corner to ensure no guards are about.”
“I will.” She touched his shoulder. “Thank you for your trust.” Catarine crept to the corner. A step away her vague outline disappeared. A moment later, she came into view.
“’Tis so dark,” the king whispered as he halted beside Trálin, “for a moment I lost sight of Lady Catarine.”
“Indeed.” A smile tugged at his mouth. If only he knew the truth.
“The guards have made a line from the well and are passing buckets of water to the keep,” Catarine explained as she halted beside Trálin.
“Do we have a clear path to a side gate near the gatehouse?” King Alexander asked.
“Regardless,” Trálin said, “we must keep close to the walls and use the broken shadows.”
“’Twill take too long,” Catarine whispered.
A muscle worked in Trálin’s jaw. As if he didna know the risks? “’Tis the safest to lure the guards at the gate.”
Catarine leaned closer. “Remain here. I will go alone.”
He caught the emphasis in the word
alone
. She meant she’d become invisible. Bedamned, she’d risked her life enough. “Nay!”
alone
. She meant she’d become invisible. Bedamned, she’d risked her life enough. “Nay!”
“What is wrong?” the king asked.
“Your Grace,” Catarine said before Trálin could speak. “I will take out the guards at the gatehouse. When I—”
“With the distance necessary,” Trálin interrupted, upset she’d nae discussed it with him first, “’twill take you too long to—”
Catarine bolted deep into the shadows.
Bedamned! Trálin started after her, caught a vague shimmer, then she disappeared. With a muttered curse, he glanced toward the guards at the gate. With the yells from the top of the castle, their attention was focused on the fire.
“Lord Grey,” the king softly called.
Trálin cursed, slipped back beside the king.
“Is the lass insane?” he asked.
Nay, a fairy.
“In part,” Trálin replied.
“In part,” Trálin replied.
“Never have I seen a woman with such bravado,” King Alexander said.
“She is a trained knight,” Trálin explained.
“A lass is a knight?” the king stated, the shock in his voice expected. “Never have I heard of such.”
“Nor I.” Neither would the king learn more. Trálin scoured the bailey. Where was she? Blast it, if he could reach her, he’d throttle her. “I do nae see her,” the king whispered.
“She is in the shadows,” Trálin replied, and prayed she could hold her breath that long.
A blur came into view paces away from the first guard.
“There she is,” the queen said.
Catarine’s form faded.
“What the bloody devil?” The guard yelled as he withdrew his blade. “Behind you,” he shouted to the other sentry.
The other knight whirled. “Bloody hell, ’tis a sword in the air.” He stumbled back, grabbing for his blade.
“’Tis a curse!” the other guard called.
Fear for her life tore through Trálin. “Follow me.” He bolted across the bailey.
Blade drawn, her form becoming visible, Catarine swung.
The knight gasped, angled his blade. Steel scraped. The knight’s sword flew to the ground.
As she rounded her blade for her next swing, her entire body came into view.
Fear tore through Trálin. “Leave her be!”
The guard met her swing with a solid blow. He shoved her back and rounded on Lord Grey. “What blasted trickery is this?”
In the wash of torchlight, her body wavered.
Bedamned, she was too close to the knights to become invisible! Furious at the risks she was taking, Trálin shoved her aside and deflected the knight’s next assault, caught the man’s sword with his own, shoved.
The knight stumbled back.
Protectiveness pouring through him, Trálin charged, swung.
Sparks glittered in the night, the shouts of the men trying to put out the fire echoing behind them.
Trálin angled his hilt, slammed it against the knight’s head.
A curse echoed, then the guard’s body slumped to the ground.
In the dim shimmer of distant torchlight, Catarine’s eyes blazed. “Why did you shove me out of the way?”
“Nay time to discuss it now.” With a quick glance behind to ensure they had nae been spotted, Trálin unbarred the door, jerked it open. Wind, thick with the cast of snow, hurled through. “Go!”
She shot him a cool look. As Catarine made to pass, he caught her arm. “’Twas a foolish risk.”
“Nae, necessary.” She jerked her arm free and ran through the entry.
Footsteps echoed behind him; the king and queen hastened past.
“The king has escaped!” a man’s voice boomed in the distance.
Blast it! He’d hoped they’d had more time. “Run!” Trálin yelled. At his next step, a gust of wind hit him thick with flakes of white. In the gloom of night with only the meager reflection of the moon through the clouds, he lost sight of everyone ahead of him. A moment later, the wind slowed, and he caught their outline.
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