“Then his brother, Darton, is behind this treachery.”
“Or Hagan has returned.” Tadd rubbed his chin thoughtfully, obviously unhappy with this turn of his thoughts. “Hagan is a liar, but a powerful warrior. His people fear him. ’Twould be best not to anger him when so many of our knights are with our father.”
“Even if he has taken Leah?” Sorcha asked, astounded at the depth of her brother’s cowardice. Leah had to be freed!
Tadd’s eyes swept up Sorcha’s stained mantle. “I’ll deal with Hagan my own way. As for you, sister, you will be punished for your lies and treachery. ’Tis your fault that two of my best knights needs be buried. Your fault that Gwendolyn was savagely murdered. You shall carry that burden on your soul, and your penance is that you, oh bearer of the ‘kiss of the moon,’ shall be locked in your chamber until the moon is next full.”
Isolde lifted her old hands in supplication. “M’lord, ’twill be nearly a full cycle … twenty-eight days—”
“Hush, old woman, or I shall punish you as well.” He drew his sword swiftly.
Isolde stood firm, and Tadd merely admired the blade, pointed it into the oak floor, and leaned insolently on the hilt. He had to bend a bit, so that his nose was within inches of Sorcha’s face. “You’ll pray in your room, sister, and pray alone. Even Father William will abandon you during your penance. The old woman will bring you meals, but that is all.” Standing quickly, he motioned with his sword. Two guards came into the room and grabbed her by the arms.
“I’ll not be held prisoner in my own castle!” Sorcha cried.
“ ’Tis for your safety.”
“In a pig’s eye!”
He clucked his tongue as she was dragged out of the solar. Brother Ignatius prayed over Keane’s still body, and Tadd grinned, as if he was glad for an excuse to lock her away.
Though Sorcha fought with all the strength of her young body, she was no match for the two burly knights, who flung her into her chamber and dropped the heavy oaken bar across her door.
Wretched and cold, she huddled on the floor. Henry lay dead. Dear Keane’s soul, too, had departed. Gwendolyn had given up her life. Leah was a prisoner in the bowels of Castle Erbyn. Tadd held her as his prisoner.
Her life, so carefree this morn, had become wretched. Tadd, curse his soul to the devil, was correct, however. All the death and disaster that had been wreaked upon the castle was her fault and hers alone. Some savior of Prydd was she—more like the plague of Prydd. Her insides felt as if they’d been torn apart by wolves, and it took all of her courage not to fall down and weep. But she couldn’t. For, by the gods, she would have to find a way to avenge the deaths and save her sister.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself upright. She’d kneel to no man. Especially not to someone as dull and wicked as Tadd. Guilt drummed in her brain as she walked to the open window and stared at the night. Clouds drifted across the face of the full moon.
What tortures was Leah enduring in the dungeons of Erbyn? Sorcha’s throat clogged with hot, unshed tears. Oh, if she could only trade places with her sister.
“By all that we hold dear, sister Leah,” Sorcha whispered onto the breeze, “I vow to save you.” She shivered as the breath of wind blew against her hair and she thought of Baron Hagan, Lord of Erbyn. Since childhood, she’d heard of him, knew him to be a rogue
, a treacherous man who would stop at nothing to gain his ends. For years he had wanted Prydd and the surrounding lands, but he’d bided his time, agreed to the truce, and now, while their father was off fighting the Scots, he had decided to make war, not with an army, mayhaps, but to the same end. “Hold on, Leah,” she whispered over the rising wind. The castle walls seemed to mock her, for she was prisoner in her own beloved Prydd, but Sorcha was a woman who believed that no enemy was invincible, no dungeon without a means of escape, no plot complicated enough that it couldn’t be thwarted.
She kicked off her boots and started planning her escape. ’Twould be easy to sneak out of this room; she only needed Isolde’s help. The difficult part would come later.
Nay, freeing Leah would not be an easy matter, but she had no choice. For all of her sixteen years she had been selfish, only interested in her own needs, but as of this night, her destiny had changed.
She would avenge Henry’s death.
She would see that Gwendolyn’s murderer be held responsible.
She would seek vengeance, dark and brutal, for the killing of Keane.
She would free her sister.
No matter what the cost.
No force, not even the power of Baron Hagan of Erbyn, would stop her.
Two
orcha’s heart was in her throat as she stepped over the dozing guard.
“He will not sleep long,” Isolde warned her as the man snored and Sorcha barred the door.
“It does not matter. He will never know I’ve gone.” They sped along the hallway quietly and outside the great hall to the gate of the dungeon, which was unguarded. Together they hurried down the damp stone steps.