Rebel's Cage (Book 4) (58 page)

He’d let the demon go. He’d allowed it free rein and it had done no damage.

This once. For the first time, in fact.

But he’d still let it go.

He closed his eyes, pushed out with his Senses, looking for anything –
anything
– out of place.

His feet wouldn’t let him stand still; his restlessness was broken up by bouts of freezing terror when he could only turn his Seeking backwards into the cottage, to make sure he could still See her, wounded badly, her aura so pale, broken in places, but still surviving.

He came to a halt, doubling over, stomach lurching with swallowing the fear for so long. He’d come so damned close.

He pulled himself upright, closing his eyes once more and Seeking tightly and firmly, regaining more and more control as each heartbeat flew by.

No. Nothing close by – and beyond that, his abilities refused to go so far from the cottage. If he wanted to be sure they were safe, he would have to do it in person and ride the perimeter. He should go to Maitland, get Bella to send over a cart to carry Jenn. If they had a Healer or a doctor or something, that would help.

Slowly his stomach steadied, balanced by the cold and the presence he could still Sense inside the cottage.

He paused only long enough to stick his head inside to tell the others where he was going. Then he took the first horse and headed northwards. From there, he would sweep southeast and stop for supplies at Maitland.

He’d already taken enough risks tonight to last him a lifetime.

*

Andrew brought in wood, armloads of it, dry and split, stacking it onto the fire and watching it flare up until the heat was almost unbearable. Then he brought more inside, stacking it against the stone fireplace, just in case it was needed. Without being asked, he went out again, to the well, filling a bucket with water to warm on the fire. Then he got another. After that, he rummaged through their saddlebags, looking for food. Micah’s cupboards were next as he sought and found flasks of ale and wine. He was about to find something else to do when Finnlay caught him, steering him to a seat by the window.

Andrew swallowed hard and looked up; Finnlay avoided his gaze. Instead, he checked the cut Andrew had on his forearm, and the other he had on his shoulder. Neither were deep, and he’d long since forgotten about the pain. Finnlay exposed both, cleaning them and applying a bandage to each.

Andrew’s gaze drifted to the bed where Micah was still tending Jenn. ‘How is she?’

Micah heard this and turned around, plunging his hands into a bowl of bloody water. He dried them off and straightened up, but it was Finnlay who answered him. ‘She’s not so good, I’m afraid. She had three wounds, two deep. A number of cuts and bruises. She’s lost a lot of blood, but she’s already stretched herself beyond safety levels, trying to shelter from the fire.’

‘But … she’s going to be all right, isn’t she?’

‘Yes,’ Micah answered before Finnlay could. Andrew saw a look shared between them, then Micah turned back to his work and Andrew faced Finnlay squarely.

‘Is she going to … die?’

‘Andrew, she …’

Finnlay’s voice also trailed off as he turned to find Robert standing in the open doorway, his expression grave.

‘Get Jenn ready to travel,’ he said, ‘we’re heading straight to the Enclave.’

‘The Enclave?’ Finnlay asked, frowning. ‘Why?’

But Robert almost ignored him. Instead, he came into the cottage, closed the door behind him and stood before Andrew. ‘I’m sorry. It looks as though DeMassey took his … frustrations out on Maitland.’

‘His frustrations?’ Andrew could barely squeak out the question before dread folded into him, making him quake inside. ‘Aunt Bella? Uncle Lawrence?’

Robert met his eyes for long moments, then slowly shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, son.’

‘They’re dead?’ Andrew murmured. ‘Both of them?’

The silence was louder than the fresh wind battering against the shutters.

*

‘Micah, you can’t be serious! Surely it’s not that bad. And waiting a few days isn’t going to make any difference.’

Micah stepped around the horse so that Finnlay couldn’t see him again. It was dark and cold and very close inside this tiny stable. There was just enough room for five horses and a bag of oats. Two extra people made moving around almost impossible.

But the animals needed saddling, and despite his shoulder wound, Micah was determined to do it all himself, leaving no space for Finnlay to help. That wasn’t the only thing Micah was being stubborn about.

Finnlay pressed himself up against the wall, easing the nearest horse’s head out of his way to see where Micah was up to. ‘You can’t do anything for Bella and Lawrence now. Staying back isn’t going to make any difference – and if those Malachi decide to come back …’

‘They won’t come back, and you know it. They wanted Andrew.’

‘So why stay? Is it really because you don’t want to travel with Robert?’

Micah’s expression hardened in the yellow lamplight, making him look suddenly old beyond his years. ‘The three of you will be fine getting Jenn back on your own. I’ll follow two days behind you.’

‘But—’

‘Why bother arguing with me, Finnlay?’ Micah looked up with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘You’re not going to change my mind. Now why don’t you take these two horses out and tie them up beside the woodshed. That will give me enough room to finish the others.’

*

‘Mother? Mother? Can you hear me? Micah says you should be able to wake up, but Finnlay says you exhausted yourself too much. I think you should rest anyway. We’re going to take you back to the Enclave. Duke Robert says the closer you get, the more the Key will be able to help you. He told me how it healed over all his old scars that day when you became Jaibir, and that the Key did the same thing with you – but can it heal new wounds like this? You said I should trust him.

‘Mother, I’m sorry. I … should have been able to help you. Even Duke Robert says I’ve got powers in me. I tried, really I did. I tried so hard but … but … I’m sorry. I don’t even know why they wanted me.

‘Aunt Bella and Uncle Lawrence … they … I’m so sorry, Mother. Just rest and get better, please.’

*

Robert knew he wasn’t supposed to hear the whispered plea and for a moment he considered pretending he hadn’t. But Andrew’s throat constricted, his voice broke and his entire body tensed to ward off tears he should have been able to shed.

Saying nothing, Robert came inside, closed the door behind him silently and moved up behind the boy, intending to do no more than be there. But his hand came up and rested on Andrew’s shoulder and his gaze drifted down to where she lay.

She
was
pale, and blue-grey shadows welled under her eyes. She rested on her left side, the right bearing the wounds now stitched and bound and ready for travelling. Her aura was still fragile, worrying him, but the bleeding had stopped for the moment.

At least she wasn’t in any pain.

‘You’d better take your things out to your horse,’ Robert
ventured quietly, nudging Andrew. ‘We’ll be leaving in a minute. I’ll stay with her.’

Slowly, Andrew got to his feet and turned. His face was grey, but there was no sign of tears. He was finding strength he hadn’t known he had. With his back straight, he picked up his bag and headed out of the cottage.

Left alone with Jenn, Robert sat on the bed beside her, not touching her, not looking at her, but Seeing her purely with his Senses. He could do nothing more to make amends.

*

They took what supplies they could carry, leaving Micah with just enough to last him three days. After that, he’d be on the road and heading towards the Goleth. Finnlay still didn’t like the idea – but strangely, Andrew didn’t argue with the decision. He’d just studied Micah long and hard and then turned away, as though there was some secret neither dared speak about.

The night stood about them, black and icy, an evil wind blowing from the north as they mounted up. Finnlay led the spare horses which carried the bulk of their things, and Robert had Jenn on the saddle in front of him.

She had not yet woken up.

And then they were riding into the grey light and Finnlay spared a glance over his shoulder at the man who had fought and lost, like so many others. After that, he kept his attention on the road before them, and on a nephew who seemed so unnaturally quiet, matching the unholy quiet of his brother.

*

Micah slept after they left, awaking, hours later, his body aching, his shoulder burning. He got up long enough to relieve himself, then fell back into bed and slept again, empty, unable to even mourn.

By the time he woke again, it was almost dark. He couldn’t do much about his shoulder, but he made some food and forced it down, drinking as much water as he could, staying clear of the small keg of ale he kept in the pantry. Fortified then, he set about cleaning the cottage, burning bloodied rags and bandages, sweeping the mud from the floor, washing and
putting away the cups and plates they’d used through the night. Finally he sank into his favourite chair by the fireplace, a cup of brew heating the palm of one hand.

Poor Bella. She’d never understood her sister, she’d never really given Jenn a chance, even from the first – and yet, she’d never turned her back, never once let Jenn or Andrew down, as though understanding was not a prerequisite for loyalty.

Well, it wasn’t, was it?

Had
he
felt the need to understand Robert before he’d give his loyalty?

He sighed. It was so long ago now, how could he remember? He’d been a boy of six, Robert thirteen. Back then, going to live at Dunlorn had been a dream come true, with more wonderful things surrounding them than he’d ever seen in his life. Questions like loyalty and understanding hadn’t existed for a long time – and then, by the time they did, there was no question at all.

And look how it had all changed. Trust and loyalty, understanding and forgiveness had become no more than shallow tokens and Bella and Lawrence lay dead in the blackened ruins of their home.

Micah put his cup down, blew out the lamp and went back to bed. He closed his eyes and saw not the look Andrew had given him as he’d left, nor the look Robert hadn’t given him, but instead, how Finnlay had looked back with worry, and how Jenn always smiled when she saw him.

To some people, loyalty was not a prerequisite to understanding.

*

For a moment, he couldn’t work out what had woken him – but that alone was enough of a clue. He held still, listening to the night above the pounding of his heart. Then the door latch lifted and Micah opened his eyes, knowing the shape of her as she slipped inside, obviously hoping to catch him asleep.

She never did. Robert had trained him far too well for that.

She crept up to the bed, kneeling down beside it before leaning forward to brush her lips over his. His arm whipped out, going around the back of her neck and pulling her closer,
down onto the bed. She squealed with laughter and kissed him hard this time, then abruptly pulled back. With a snap of her fingers, the lamp burst into life again and she looked down at him, her hand moving out to his shoulder and the dressing.

‘Is it bad?’

‘No.’

His tone must have alerted her. Her stark gaze switched from his shoulder to his face in a single heartbeat and then she was abruptly off the bed, standing before him ready for battle.

Sighing, Micah sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked up. ‘How did they know?’

‘Know what? Are you suggesting I was with them?’

‘Sairead, don’t leap to the defensive, please.’

‘How can I not, when you ask questions like that.’

‘You’re assuming I don’t trust you, or that I blame you.’

‘Are you going to say you never thought to blame me? Not once, not for one brief second?’

‘Wouldn’t you, in the same position?’

‘We’re
not
enemies!’

She said this with so much heat, there were tears in her eyes and Micah got up quickly, not holding her, but instead, taking her hand in his, just keeping a touch between them. ‘No,
we
are not – but your people and mine have always been enemies, and always will be.’

‘We’ve never asked questions like that of each other. How can I tell you how they knew? I wasn’t with them. I have no idea who did this, and if I ask … Micah, please!’

He reached out, brushing a thumb over her lips, feeling her tremble beneath his touch. He could feel nothing. No guilt, no fear, and it didn’t seem to matter any more that somehow he had been betrayed, even if it wasn’t by her.

He kissed her, gently, felt her move in close to him, put her arms around his waist and bury her face into his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘You lost people you loved.’

Micah couldn’t bring himself to ask if she thought that Andrew and Jenn had died in the fire. He didn’t trust his own reaction if she showed no surprise.

‘Micah?’

‘Yes, love?’

‘I … I wanted to tell you something.’

‘Something good?’

She lifted her head at that, watching him with those crystal blue eyes again, now faintly green in the firelight. ‘Yes, I think so. Something very good.’

Micah began to smile – then froze. Second after second drifted by as the numb feeling inside him dried up, to be replaced by a burning curiosity and an answer to a question he’d almost given up asking.

Sairead was grinning at him now, almost laughing. ‘Oh, you should see your face! What, did you not think we would manage it somehow, despite the fact that we see each other for perhaps a month out of every year?’

‘But … how … I mean … when?’

‘Last time I was here. So tell me, is it a good thing?’

Micah smiled hugely. ‘Yes, the best.’ He pulled her to him then, kissing her deeply, just feeling her there, in the room with him, holding the memory for the months they would be apart.

How in the name of the gods were they going to manage this? They’d kept their marriage secret all these years because it was necessary – and they’d never had any children to complicate matters. Now …