The look Owen gave her was anguished. Strangely, warmth crept through her stomach in response to that look. Silly her. He shouldn’t mean anything to her. She shouldn’t trust him, and shouldn’t rely on him.
But with no one else around on her side, what choice did she have?
Chapter 6
Three days later…
* * *
Dark, cold horror crept into Owen’s muscles as he saw Stirling Castle’s walls. They’d been steadily climbing the hill, and finally, Owen could see the cliffs where the castle stood.
He’d never seen a fortress like this one. He’d heard it was impossible to take by siege, and now he knew why. Inverlochy was a child’s toy of daub and sticks compared to this castle. The gatehouse consisted of two thick towers. Walls with wooden galleries for archers and defenders loomed taller and thicker than any he’d ever seen. Square towers at the edges of the front wall provided a strategic defense for the castle’s most vulnerable spots.
Stirling connected the Highlands and Lowlands. Whoever controlled the castle, controlled Scotland. And so far, the English did.
“Not for long,” Owen muttered to himself through his teeth.
The Bruce was winning. Even the Lowlanders who had previously sworn to Edward were rumored to be taking the Bruce’s side. Owen believed that Scotland would be free again, and he was ready to contribute everything he could to make it happen.
The army was slowly passing through the gates. Amber looked up at the sharp spikes along the portcullis.
“Owen,” Amber said, her voice small. “Seriously. How do we get out of here?”
Owen’s gut twisted. After three days of travel, he was out of ideas.
“I dinna ken yet, lass.” He scratched his bristle somberly. “But we will get out. I promise ye.”
Or die trying. But he didn’t say that.
When inside, they continued their way up and up, past simple houses with thatched roofs, gardens with vegetables, and a small orchard, as well as cows and pigs and chickens. There were several workshops. Eventually, they came to a simple, wooden palisade wall with a gate. Behind them loomed a square tower, probably the lord’s tower, or donjon.
Owen and Amber exchanged a worried look. With two walls standing between them and freedom, how in the world were they going to escape?
They stopped in the middle of a courtyard at least twice as big as Inverlochy’s. Besides the donjon, there was a large building attached to the wall—probably the great hall. A simple village house with a thatched roof had smoke coming out of the chimney, and judging by the aromatic scent of cooked meat and bread that was coming out of there, it must be the kitchen. Another stone building was connected to the wooden palisade, perhaps a workshop or the smithy, Owen guessed.
The guard opened their cage, and Owen and Amber descended. It felt good to at least stand on the ground. Owen stretched his legs. The guard tied his hands behind his back, and helplessness weighed on his shoulders. Amber’s hands were tied as well, and she jerked them. She looked like a wild cat—cornered and dangerous.
“Move.” The guard shoved Owen.
Hating every step he had to take, he walked forward. The lass strolled by his side, somber and wide-eyed. They marched through the entrance into the donjon, and like in Inverlochy, there were stairs leading underground. Only a few torches illuminated the darkness. Unlike in Inverlochy, there wasn’t food stored in the room at the bottom of the stairs. Here there was an empty room with three heavy doors, each leading in different directions and each with guards standing next to them. Owen’s skin chilled.
The guards opened the door to the right and pushed Owen and Amber into the shadows behind it. As they passed the door, a musty odor of wet stone and mold hit Owen. A couple of torches illuminated a row of iron cages along the cave-like wall. They passed three, and in one of them, Owen saw a man huddled in the corner. The miasma of excrement and unwashed body made bile rise in his throat.
Damned. Someone was rotting in there, and if Owen didn’t do something, soon he and Amber would be, too.
Shadows gathered like dark spirits in the corners of the cells as they walked farther into the dungeon. They stopped at the end of the cave, by the last remaining cage. One of the guards opened it with a giant key. Metal gnashed as the cell door opened. Amber’s eyes widened, desperate, haunted, but the guard shoved her forward. She stumbled and fell, sprawling on the floor.
Anger rose in Owen like a wall of fire. He turned to the guard and headbutted the man’s nose. The satisfying crack of bone made him smile. The rest of the guards moved to push him into the cell as well, but instead of giving them the satisfaction, he walked there himself.
“Piss off, ye bastarts,” he growled.
One of them locked the door. “You’re lucky the lord wants to keep you both untouched. Otherwise, you’d be gathering your teeth from the floor. Now turn around and let me unlock your shackles. And tell your wife, or whoever she is, to do the same.”
Their hands were finally free, and the guards left the cave, leaving only one torch just outside their cell. It cast wicked shadows that danced on the floor.
He tried to think of something to lift his and Amber’s spirits. But all he could come up with were the things that had gone wrong because of him.
His clan had lost the king’s favor. Granted, John Balliol wouldn’t remain king for long after he angered King Edward I of England. The MacDougalls had proclaimed Owen had stolen the gold and attacked Cambel lands unexpectedly. They’d claimed back their lands that the king had given to the Cambels. They’d kidnapped Marjorie, and Alasdiar had raped her and abused her. In the battle for her, Owen’s grandfather died. Then the MacDougalls had come after Innis Chonnel and taken the castle, chasing the Cambels away.
It was during that battle that the MacDougalls wounded and captured Ian Cambel. They secretly sold him into slavery while everyone thought he died. After that, the Cambels made Owen’s father’s castle, Glenkeld, the clan seat, and Uncle Neil and his sons moved there, too.
Then there was Lachlan…
Last year, Craig had been appointed constable of Inverlochy Castle by the Bruce. Craig had asked Owen to keep an eye on everything while he was gone and had specifically forbade him to invite anyone from the Inverlochy village in case they might spy for the enemy. But Owen had thought a couple of pretty lasses wouldn’t harm anyone. Those lasses had refused to go without chaperons. So their mothers had come, their fathers and brothers. The whole castle had soon swarmed with feasting people. In the chaos, Hamish Dunn, a MacDougall spy, killed Lachlan, thinking he was killing Craig. The two had looked quite similar, being cousins.
All that was on Owen’s conscience. Because he’d been such a failure. Because he been distracted by beautiful women and drinking and rebelling against his father.
But he could perform a small act of kindness now and make sure Amber was all right.
Owen turned to her. “Are ye well, lass?”
She rubbed her wrists. “I’m okay. You?”
He chuckled to himself. He’d only heard that strange word—okay—from two people. Amy, Craig’s wife, and Kate, Ian’s beloved.
“Aye, I am okay,” he said, tasting the word on his tongue.