Page 155 of Highland Spy

Sylvi turned and regarded Connor with a look inviting him to speak. He released Cora with a gentle pat. “Delilah and I have been tracking a plot to assassinate you. Thomas Percy and several other men are responsible.”

The sooner he told the king the information they had on the gunpowder gathering plot, the sooner they would be free to devise a plan to rescue Ariana.

And God help Murdoch if Connor saw him any time soon.

Chapter 37

The walls had ears and eyes.

It made speaking openly to the other women difficult, but certainly not impossible.

Connor had gathered them all in Percy’s large room, including Cora. His sister regarded him with questions in her eyes, and he knew she wanted to talk with him. But not here. Not now. Not around everyone.

The familiar clean scent of herbs in Percy’s workroom was a comfort, however small, in such perilous times.

“Where is Ariana?” Percy’s pupils narrowed to small dots of black in her large blue eyes.

“One of the guards said she was under arrest.” Sylvi spoke in a somber tone. Her gaze was sharp and Connor knew everything in her was on guard.

He understood all too well. His own body was tight with the threat of an impending attack, his senses on high alert and his nerves strung taut.

“They took her to the prison,” Cora added.

The very thought of Ariana in prison coiled around his heart like a chain, heavy and tight and cold.

Delilah turned a horrified look on Connor. “Is that true?”

He nodded, unable to say the words aloud. “Where’s Isabel?” “Right here,” came a feminine voice.

Connor glanced over his shoulder to find Isabel emerging from a false door in the wall. She wore a low cut gown garishly adorned with paste gems. Her eyes were lined with kohl and her lips smeared with carmine, as they had been the last time he’d seen her.

And truly he was grateful to see her now. After having been accused of killing her, it would not do well for the king to now find her alive and in Connor’s care.

“I knew of Isabel’s predicament.” Percy sifted through a cabinet while she spoke. “I knew she couldn’t be caught and so I hid her in the false wall here.” She handed a neat stack of black clothing to Isabel and nodded toward the back wall, where Connor had built several false walls with hidden stairs around the castle. They all connected and had an exit from the castle to allow for escape should the need arise. With the crumbling deterioration of Kindrochit, he hadn’t needed much skill, and the construction was almost easy. It had taken over two years to accomplish. Initially, he’d felt as though he’d wasted his time in constructing it. Now he was glad he had.

Isabel disappeared behind a screen.

“Connor.” Liv stepped forward, the small gray kitten clutched to her chest. “Tell us what happened to Ariana. What are they going to do to her?” Desperation sharpened her voice and it made Connor wish he didn’t have to recount the painful tale.

They all needed to know what fate would befall their friend, and then they could decide if they were willing to risk everything to save her.

• • •

The manacles cut into Ariana’s wrists. They’d been drawn too tight across her skin. She’d tried rolling her wrists and wriggling them in an attempt to find a more comfortable position, but all her effort was in vain.

They’d forced her to walk through the courtyard under the encouragement of an army’s glare, and they were now stopped in front of the prison. The smaller building was set apart from the main part of the castle and housed not only the prison but the larder as well.

She’d only ever seen the inside of the larder, where the weapons they used for practice were typically kept in a neat row along the walls.

“What will you do with me?” Ariana asked. “How long am I to stay your prisoner?”

The guards opened the door to the prison and an aggressive shove sent her sprawling inside. She staggered into the darkened room, momentarily blinded by the sudden absence of light.

The scrape of stones under her feet echoed around her, mimicking her unsure footing. A distinct mustiness inside mingled with the wet scent of earth and stone. A very thin crack of light showed from a bit of broken stone in one far corner, though it was meager enough to be nonexistent.

“Dinna worry.” Murdoch’s familiar voice sounded beside her ear. “Ye willna be here long.”

She sensed more than felt him lean over her.