Chapter Thirty-Three

 

 

 

A scream rose in Mairin’s chest, but her throat was so constricted with fear that it couldn’t escape.

She must have gone rigid, for in an instant, Niall lunged at her attacker. Both of them released her, sending her spinning into the black nothingness around them. There was a scuffle, then a grunt of pain.

“Christ, stand down, English,” came a hissing voice.

A Scottish voice. A familiar voice.

“Little Bird, it’s me.”

Mairin pulled in a ragged breath. “Logan?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Niall demanded. He was suddenly back at Mairin’s side, a steadying arm around her.

“Keep yer voices down,” Logan murmured. “Unless ye want Lancaster’s commanders to ken that there is a secret passageway out of this dungeon.”

Mairin’s mind couldn’t keep up. “What…but how did ye…and why…?”

His hand reached out for her once again, this time giving her forearm a gentle squeeze. “I’ll explain all I can once we’re safe in the tunnel.”

Logan guided her away from the stairs. Niall followed behind, keeping a protective hand on the small of her back. She was so disoriented in the dark that she wasn’t sure how far they’d gone or in which direction, but a while later, Logan paused. The same scraping of stone on stone that had echoed faintly through the dungeon earlier sounded once again, closer this time. A cold breath of air, fresher than that in the dungeon, washed over her. Then Logan was on the move again, leading them into a pitch-black tunnel of some sort.

He paused once they were a few feet into the tunnel to close the entrance behind them, then a moment later, a spark flashed in the darkness. Logan struck his flint stones together again, briefly illuminating the dripping, mossy tunnel. On the third strike, a torch on the ground at his feet caught and flared to life.

As yellow light flooded the tunnel, Mairin let a shuddering exhale go. The tunnel was long enough that she couldn’t see where it ended, but at least they now stood in a safe little halo of light.

“Follow me,” Logan said, carrying the torch past them and heading deeper into the tunnel.

“How did ye get here, brother?” Mairin asked, hurrying after him. “And how did ye ken Pontefract’s dungeon had a secret passageway? And why on earth—”

“Easy, Little Bird,” Logan said, sweeping her with his gaze over his shoulder. “I have a few questions of my own first. Are ye hurt?”

She must look a fright, her hair and clothes disheveled, her face tear-streaked, and a dagger clutched in her white-knuckled grip. But despite the nightmare she’d just survived, she was unharmed. “Nay.”

“I tried to find a way to keep the two of ye from being put in the dungeon, but there were too many eyes and ears before, and I couldnae risk drawing attention to myself.”

Realization slammed into Mairin’s sternum. “Ye were at Boroughbridge, werenae ye? Riding beside Harclay himself. I knew I recognized ye.”

“Aye,” Logan confirmed. “I was there.”

“What?” Niall breathed, catching Logan by the arm and drawing him to a halt. “You fought with Harclay? In the name of King Edward?”

“There is much to explain.”

“Start now,” Niall ground out.

Logan lifted a russet brow at Niall’s flat order, but Mairin didn’t miss the distinct light of respect in his steel-gray eyes.

“After ye departed the training camp on yer mission, I returned to Scone to apprise the Bruce. I was still uneasy at the idea of sending ye into the clutches of a man like Lancaster, Little Bird, either as a spy or a bodyguard. Nor was I pleased that yer safety was in the hands of English here—no offense, lad, but there it is.”

Niall’s mouth tightened at that, but he nodded for Logan to continue.

“The King confided his larger plot to me, which…let’s just say I was even less pleased and more convinced than before that the both of ye were headed into danger.”

“And what was his grand scheme?” Mairin asked.

“It is too complicated to explain now—hell, I’m no’ even sure I understand all of it, even still. Besides, we shouldnae dally overlong here. Suffice it to say that I couldnae persuade the Bruce to allow me to join ye at Lancaster’s side, but he sent me to Harclay to serve as an...advisor.”

Mairin was stunned into silence for a long moment.

“That was how I kenned about this passageway,” Logan continued when both Niall and Mairin stared in shock at him. “Harclay fostered with Lancaster here at Pontefract when they were both young. Harclay kenned all the ins and outs of this keep, for at one time he and Lancaster were quite close. Hell, Lancaster was the one who knighted Harclay many years past.”

“And…and Harclay told you about this secret tunnel,” Niall said slowly, clearly struggling as much as Mairin to understand all that Logan was saying.

“Aye, for he was bound to ensure, at the Bruce’s order, that no harm befell either of ye. He couldnae stand up for ye publicly, for it would reveal too much, but he could allow me to set ye free under cover of darkness.”

“Then Harclay is in league with the Bruce too?” Mairin managed at last, still feeling five steps behind.

“As I said, it is too complicated to untangle now,” Logan replied, jerking his chin at the passageway ahead. “I willnae be able to breathe easy until we are out of this blasted tomb. Just ken that ye can return to Scotland now. Yer mission is over.”

“Aye,” Niall said grimly. “We failed.”

Logan shook his head. “Nay, ye didnae.”

Niall’s brows dropped. “No doubt you know that Lancaster is to be given a traitor’s death tomorrow morn. His rebellion is in shambles. All those who conspired with him will likely be drawn and quartered alongside him.”

Logan sighed impatiently. “The Bruce will clarify all. I’m to take ye to Scone after Lancaster’s execution.”

“Then we are to stay until tomorrow?” Mairin asked, more confused now than she was before Logan had begun to explain things.

“Aye,” Logan replied. “The Bruce wants no doubt that Lancaster has been eliminated for good.”

A hundred more questions swirled through Mairin’s mind. Hadn’t the Bruce entered an alliance with Lancaster, even if only to advance some mysterious larger scheme of his? Why was he now so eager to be assured of Lancaster’s demise? And what of Harclay? The warden had fought in the name of Edward against the rebels, but was he truly in league with the Bruce as well?

Yet all she could do was trail after Logan, huddling close to remain in the light cast by his torch. Until they faced the Bruce, it seemed they were to remain in the dark.