“A while, yes,” said Effie. “But not long. Not if they were already starving.” That’s what the gaunt cheeks and pale flesh reminded her of—those who’d survived a famine. She frowned and slowly ran her gaze over the bodies.
“Look there,” she said, pointing at a long cut running across the shepherd’s thigh. “That wound looks like it’s from a blade. It’s too precise to be from stone.” She found another such slash on the tradesman’s arm. “And there.”
Brandon knelt next to her and leaned on his rifle, squinting. He smelled heavily of sweat and horse. Both were welcome compared to the corpses. “Aye,” he said, “by a broadsword perhaps. Something heavier than a knife.”
A sharp crack rang out above them. Stones tumbled loose, clattering down like a hailstorm. One stone struck Griggs on the leg. He cried out and tumbled over, disappearing in a cloud of dust. The other soldiers scurried aside, raising their arms and rifles over their heads. Brandon shoved Effie back and threw himself on top of her.
She coughed from the dust. “I am all right,” she said, pushing the man off. He scrambled to help her to her feet. His face drained of color. Stammering, he began several apologies, but she waved them away. “I am unharmed, both in person and in honor, and I thank you for it,” she said, before raising her voice. “How is everyone else?”
“The castle is a dangerous place, Miss Effie,” said Sergeant McGrady. He came to her side and inspected her. Blood trickled from one of his hands, and he wrapped the handkerchief he’d offered her earlier around it.
“It will become more dangerous if you suggest she wait outside,” came a stern voice echoing from the heap of stone where the fire smoldered.
Effie leapt from her skin. The soldiers darted into firing positions and brought their rifles to bear. Sergeant McGrady stepped in front on her. But she caught her breath and moved around the man, crossing to the heap. She recognized the voice.
“Gaelyph?” she called. She could still not sense the warden’s aura.
“Sergeant!” The shout came as a rifle cracked. Two more shots followed. The bullets pinged off the castle’s stone high above. Clouds of chips and dust puffed where they struck.
Effie ducked low and followed the train of the rifles. They pointed at a shadowed recess in the corner tower opposite of where she squatted.
“I saw something move up there,” said the soldier who’d shouted.
“Aye, a creature. Short and thick, with a long, thin nose,” said the sergeant. The tinge of gunpowder wafted from his pistol.
“Talons like a hunting bird and eyes as red as the blood-soaked cap it wears,” Gaelyph’s voice came from beneath the heap of stone once more. “A redcap, and a fierce one. It was he who loosed the tumbling stone. Free me, and I will slay him for you.”
“A friend of yours?” asked Brandon, indicating the smoldering heap with his rifle. Creeping closer, he kicked at some of the smaller stones and revealed the top of an archway built into the corner tower.
“He is Warden of the Hunt for the Seily Court,” Effie replied. She would have laughed had her thoughts not been racing. The warden had gotten himself trapped in the castle dungeon. But her blood had run cold at mention of the redcap. Her mother had told her of such creatures, not in tales of fey lore but in the kind meant to scare wee bairns. The kind Griggs’ nan would have told him to make him behave. Redcaps were linked to witchcraft, and they thrilled in murder.
She saw Sergeant McGrady looking to her. His face begged a hundred questions.
“Leave Brandon and Griggs with me,” she said. “Hunt carefully for this redcap. There will most likely be more traps.”
The sergeant nodded. Barking orders, he sent the men into the towers, the only part of the castle where stairs remained. Their footsteps and grunts echoed into the courtyard as they labored upward.
“That was folly,” said Gaelyph. “You sent the men to their deaths.”
Effie whipped her head around to glare at the stone heap. Goose pimples ran along her arms. Her throat and shoulders tightened. “Where is Caledon?” she demanded.
“There is no time, Effie of Glen Coe. Prove yourself loyal to the court and have your suitors do as I ask. It is the only way to save them.”
Prove myself? Effie grimaced. She should ask the warden to do the same. But he was right. There was no time. She needed to either trust him or let him languish in the dungeon. She glanced at Griggs. The man lay clutching his knee. His trousers had torn, leaving bare a bloodstained and swollen leg. He’d be lucky if the bone wasn’t broken, she guessed.
Brandon ran a sleeve along his brow. Beads of sweat returned as soon as his arm dropped. He clutched his rifle tight enough the blood drained from his fingers.
They needed Gaelyph. The warden spoke the truth about that. And she needed to find Caledon. Moving forward, she started picking away the smaller stones. Some were hot to the touch. She used her cane to knock those aside.
“Help me,” she bade Brandon. The soldier did as she asked. Together they cleared an opening wide enough that she could spy the warden on the steps below. The stair to the dungeon dropped barely the height of a man beneath the tower. The air wafting through the opening stank of damp mold and the droppings of rodents.
Brandon kicked at the smoldering heap one last time and heaved aside a larger stone. The portal widened. Gaelyph reached his arms through, and with the soldier’s help, clambered out. Dried blood caked his cheek. Soot and muck covered the rest of him. His coat had torn at the sleeve. He tugged at it, his lips pursed and brow scrunched in annoyance.
“Sir Warden,” said Brandon, clenching his rifle. He glanced at Effie, uncertain what to do with the soot-covered fey.
Offering the barest of nods to the soldier, Gaelyph drew the slender blade at his hip. The silver falcon heads flashed in the darkening courtyard. Effie folded her arms across her chest, staring expectantly. Her jaw fell slack as the warden set off without a word.
“Caledon?” she asked, storming after the fey man.
“Taken,” Gaelyph replied.
The word made her misstep, and she stumbled to a halt. “Taken? By whom? How? Where?” The questions flew from her lips in disbelief. The warden ignored them all. He disappeared into one of the towers and headed up its stair.
“Miss?” asked Brandon, behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder and gestured. “Th-thank you,” she managed. “If you please, watch over Griggs.” She reached for skirts that weren’t there and cursed herself a fool. In a trot, she chased after the warden.
The narrow stair spiraled up above the old kitchens. The stone was cold and lifeless. Whatever tapestries and sconces had been used to adorn the walls had long since been removed. The steps had worn down, and she became dizzy watching them flit past as she circled round and round.
At a landing, Effie paused. Boots scraped the stone farther up the stair, but the sound came too heavy for the warden’s graceful stride. She caught a glimpse of movement down a narrow corridor and crept after it. Her heart thumped. It reminded her to keep her wits. She could not let her frustration with Gaelyph walk her blindly into a trap.
The corridor narrowed and bent before one wall dropped away at the entrance to an old chamber. But nothing remained of its timber flooring. The opening plunged to the kitchens below. She peered down and saw the light tumbling in from the courtyard. Voices echoed back at her, but she could not make them out.