Chapter Thirty-Two

 

 

 

Mairin’s heart pounded so loudly in her ears that she could barely hear her own cries of terror.

Distantly, she felt Niall’s hand in her hair. He was murmuring something, but she couldn’t comprehend his words.

It was happening again. Her nightmares had turned real. It seemed she was fated to be held captive inside a cold, dark prison with no escape, no hope.

Through the maelstrom of fear breaking over her, she knew—she wouldn’t make it to first light tomorrow morn. Already she felt her mind tearing asunder under the weight of the blackness pressing all around.

The events of the last few fortnights had made her believe that she was strong, that she was overcoming her fears bit by bit. She’d managed to cross back into England. She’d been surrounded by men who spoke with the same accent as her captors, and had somehow found the strength to carry on.

And she’d fought and defeated Bruin, proving not only her fighting skills but her bravery in facing one of her tormentors. Even if her other captors still lived, and even if she encountered another one of them in the future, she’d told herself she wouldn’t be afraid. If she could best Bruin, she could best any of them—or any of her fears.

How wrong she had been—how naïve and foolish. The darkness still owned her. It suffocated her, brought her to her knees, just as it had all those years ago. She was still that frightened lass she’d once been. No amount of training or fighting or shows of bravery could change that. She was still broken.

She gritted her teeth against another scream, but she couldn’t stop the low keening that rose in her throat. Her knees shook so badly that they could no longer hold her up. She began to crumple, but Niall’s strong arms held her up.

Niall.

He still murmured reassurances against her hair. She closed her mouth against her panting breaths and strained to make sense of what he was saying.

“…you to hold on, my love,” he rasped. “I’ll find a way out of here, I swear it.”

“Th-there is no way out,” she moaned. “It is just l-like before—naught but frozen dirt and stone and…and d-darkness.”

“Nay, it isn’t like before,” Niall said, his voice pinched with urgency. “Before you were alone in that cellar. But now I am here with you, Mairin. Do you hear me? I am here. And I will never leave you.”

She swallowed against the sour bile in the back of her throat. Ye are no’ alone, some sane, calm voice whispered in the back of her head. Niall is here. He will never abandon ye in the dark.

She lifted her head from his chest, searching for his eyes, or even just the faintest outline of his features in the black. But there was naught. The darkness was so complete that she couldn’t even tell if her eyes were open or closed.

A wave of dizziness crashed over her, making her feel as if she were spiraling into a never-ending pit. She cried out and clutched for him, praying that he could anchor her in the storm of blackness battering her.

“I am here with you,” he said again, his voice low and close. His arms were like bands of iron around her, holding her steady, mooring her. “Listen to my voice. Feel my heartbeat next to yours. I will never leave you, Mairin, my love.”

She fought against the hot, acidic panic coursing through her body, twisting her stomach and choking her breath. Niall is here. I am no’ alone. With each shuddering gulp of air, she forced herself to note just how real he was, even though they both remained shrouded in pitch-blackness.

The warmth of his breath against her hair. The rough calluses on his palm as he cupped her tear-damp cheek. The solid strength of his arms around her. The thud of his heart beneath her ear.

“You are the strongest soul I’ve ever known,” Niall said. “From the first moment I saw you, I knew it. There was still a spark in your eyes, even after all you’d survived. And when I saw you fight, that spark flamed to life.”

His hands tightened on her. “I know that spark still burns bright within you, Mairin, even now. I need you to find it, fan it, make it blaze once more. I need you to be strong for me—stronger than you’ve ever been before. I can’t get us out of here alone. I need you.”

The smallest seed of hope took root in her throbbing heart then. Niall wasn’t giving up. Not on finding a way to escape. And not on her.

He believed in her. Now she must believe in herself. She had faced the darkness before—for six long years, alone. She had to face it once more. For herself, for Niall, for the love that had grown between them.

She clawed against the pulse of terror thrumming through her, fighting for air, fighting for the strength that had always lived inside her.

“Aye, that’s it,” Niall said as she dragged in first one deep, rough breath, then another. “Come back to me, my love. Come back and fight alongside me.”

“B-but there is naught we can do,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “The stones are a foot thick, the iron bars solid.”

“Do you have a hairpin?”

His question surprised her so much that for a single heartbeat, her fear was completely forgotten. It rushed back all too soon, but it wasn’t as strong as before.

“Nay,” she replied. Her hair had long since fallen out of its plait, which had only been tied with a thin strip of leather anyway.

“We need something to pick the lock.” Even though she couldn’t see his face, she could hear a frown in his voice. She pictured his soft lips set in that serious line, and for an instant, she was buoyed by the beloved image.

Mairin racked her brain for an idea. Her heart was beating faster again, but this time the panic was laced with determination.

A moment later, she sucked in a breath. “I still have one of my throwing daggers.”

Harclay’s soldiers had taken away their swords long ago, along with a dagger Niall carried in his boot. But the soldiers had been so eager to set out for Pontefract that they hadn’t searched their captives more thoroughly.

The feel of the sheath strapped to her forearm inside her gown was so familiar that Mairin had completely forgotten it. One dagger still remained.

Niall’s body tensed. “That could work.”

The hope that had taken root a moment before now began to sprout. She flicked her wrist and the dagger dropped easily into her palm. Even in this black void, the motion was familiar and comforting, soothing her frayed nerves.

“Hold on to me,” Niall said. “I’ll guide us to the bars.”

Mairin wrapped her hands around Niall’s waist, letting his warmth and strength wash over her. He slid one foot out across the hard-packed dirt floor of their cell, slow enough for her to follow his motion on wobbly legs.

Inch by inch, they shuffled across the space. One of Niall’s arms loosened then disappeared from around her. She stiffened, gripping him tighter, but his low voice was like a balm.

“I’m only feeling for the bars so that we don’t run into them,” he soothed.

Dizziness hit her in waves as they continued on, so disorienting was the darkness. But instead of fighting against the black obscurity, she surrendered to it, giving her full trust to Niall. He wouldn’t let her fall. He wouldn’t leave her. His nearness was almost as potent as a beam of light cutting through the gloom.

At last, his hand rasped against the iron bars. He drew her toward them, positioning himself at her back. She fumbled with blind hands over the cold, damp iron, searching for the lock.

“What will we do if we get out?” she whispered.

“We’ll have to determine that when we get there,” he replied. “One thing at a time.”

Trepidation lanced through her at that. Even if she managed to pick the lock with her dagger, they were still trapped well below the castle in pitch darkness. No doubt there were guards positioned at the top of the stairs. And even if they managed to get past them, they’d still have to get through the great hall, the yard, and both baileys before they’d be safe.

One thing at a time, just as Niall had said, she told herself firmly.

When her fingers brushed a thick iron panel in the middle of the bars, her pulse leapt. Carefully, she found the hole for the key and positioned the tip of her dagger into it. She drew in a deep breath, willing her grip to remain secure and steady. Her palms were sweating. If she dropped the dagger and it fell out of their reach, their attempt at escape would be over before it had even begun.

She guided the dagger into the lock slowly, probing for the feel of the pins inside. She had to be delicate, else the blade’s thin, sharp tip could break inside the lock.

There had been no opportunity to try to pick the lock in the root cellar. The wooden door had no lock—rather, they secured her inside with a wooden bar. Besides, she couldn’t have reached the door anyway, for it had been well off the ground.

She’d played at picking locks as a wee lass back at Eilean Donan. It had once been her favorite naughty game to pick open her brothers’ trunks and chests, then rummage through their things. But that hadn’t been in the dark, nor with a dagger held in slippery hands.

Just then she felt the pins shift. She applied a hair’s weight more pressure, and suddenly the lock thunked and the iron grate opened an inch.

She let a rushing breath go just as Niall pulled one in.

“I knew you could do it,” he whispered. He guided her out of the way and swung the door open, then pulled her against his chest once more for a steadying embrace. “The only way out is up those stairs.”

Her grip tightened on the throwing dagger. It was their only weapon against whatever they would face at the top. “I’m ready.”

Niall looped an arm around her waist, and as they had before, they began a slow shuffle toward where the stairs rose somewhere in the dark.

They hadn’t gone three steps when the sound of stone scraping on stone echoed faintly through the black corridor.

“What was that?” Mairin hissed.

“The men in the cell at the other end?”

They both strained to listen for several heartbeats, but Mairin didn’t hear aught other than her own pounding pulse. After a few moments, Niall set them into motion once more.

Unease pricked across her skin as they made their way slowly toward the stairs. The air rippled around her in cool laps, as though someone else moved nearby. Had the men in the other cell managed to escape as well? Or had one of the soldiers remained in the shadows to ensure that—

Mairin’s thoughts scattered when all of a sudden, a hard hand materialized from the darkness and closed on her.