“Camping here for the night. Donna cause problems in the village like last time, aye?” Kane said over his shoulder. He swung himself off his mount, giving the graceful beast a pat on the head.

He began unpacking his bags while his men followed suit, carrying conversation through the dark woods. It was night, with only the light of the moon to guide them, and that’s what Kane liked the most.

“Brodrick,” he called. “Start the fire. Mayhap we can draw some game to us.”

“Yer the only man I know who looks forward to going head to head with a bear,” his friend grunted. Nevertheless, he started to make the fire. Kane turned back to unloading his saddle—or he would have. The two figures at the edge of the trees made him pause, however. Kane forgot about the horse.

Saeran and Connor had been talking the whole ride—leaving no one to wonder if their voices were loud enough to carry to their enemies. Though their voices were hushed and blurred together, they hadn’t made an effort to stay silent.

His steps were heavy with anger as he drew near them.

“…you are not. I forbid it—I will tell Kane, Saeran. In all that is holy, I will—”

“Tell me what?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest. The two dainty figures froze. Saeran had his back turned to him, but he could see the panic that overcame his squire’s face. He had always been a terrible bluffer.

“Nothing,” Saeran said, quickly turning around. His face was pale, if not whiter than Connor’s, but there was a determined gleam to them that made him pause.

Where had he seen that look before?

“It’s something, if my squire feels the need to threaten ye’.”

A look of frustration entered the lad’s eyes. Saeran elbowed Connor, but held Kane’s gaze, as if he hadn’t done that. Connor grunted, rubbing his side.

“Saeran wants to meet his first whore.” Connor gave his companion a snarky smile.

“What?” Saeran whirled around, his voice unusually high and squeaky.

“Really.” Kane looked between the two of them. They were not arguing over a matter such as that. Whores for young men such as themselves was common—except in Connor’s case. Connor was…different.

“Nay, I—”

“Saeran,” Connor said, patting him on the shoulder. “You do not need to be embarrassed about your sexual urges.”

“But I am not—”

“And I was trying to explain to you that there were two brothels. One of which you may not go to.”

Kane knew the one he was speaking of and nodded, grimacing. “Half the men that leave that brothel come down with a sickness near their cocks. I’d strongly advise ye’ no’ to go there, if ye’ want to bed with a woman again.”

“Do you have experience with brothels?” Saeran asked, a tone coming to his voice that Kane did not understand. The lad sounded jealous.

Kane grinned. “Oh, aye. What do ye’ think I do when I’m away from the keep? Ye’ have a lot to learn, lad.” He slapped him on the back. The boy was so thin that he nearly fell to the ground. Kane grabbed him, frowning. “Are ye’ alright?”

A healthy flush dotted his cheeks as he pulled out of Kane’s grip. Connor was standing back, a hand over his mouth, laughing. Kane gave him a look.

“Ye’ need to eat more meat,” he said, taking Saeran’s arm. He wrapped his hand around it, squeezing. Lord, but he was a thin boy—even thinner than his puffy shirt made him appear. Was he malnourished? Kane didn’t see him in the hall for dinner often. “Ye’ll be taking two servings tonight, after ye’ return from the brothel.”

He gave Connor a hard glare. “Donna let him go to the brothel near the edge of town. Trust me, lad. No’ a good place to be.” He gave them both a slap on the back, gentler than before with Saeran, then headed off. Why was there something so familiar about the lad? Kane looked over his shoulder, staring at Saeran.

At that exact moment, Saeran looked over his, and met his eyes. He realized what was so familiar under the dim light of the moon, with the shadows casting over the boy’s dirty face.

The eyes.

They were the same, pale, crystalline blue as Alice’s.

* * *

“You are disgusting!” Saeran hissed, smacking Connor on the arm. He winced through a laugh.

“Mayhap if you were not so impulsive, irrational, and a woman, I would not have had to put you in that position. You know, if you were actually a man, we would not have that problem.” He gave her a suggestive look, making her blush while scowling at him.

“I would like to point out there is nothing wrong with my being a woman—”

“Oh, please. There is and you know it. Only you would be so ready to put your life at risk without means of protecting yourself—”

“Connor, all I am doing is meeting someone. Even if the danger arose, I would be able to protect myself perfectly fine. I’m sorry, but I will not be deterred in this.”

He glared at her for so long she became antsy. Then a triumphant smile came over his face.

“How do you expect to meet a man who is expecting a woman? You’re not exactly dressed for the occasion, my lady.”

Saeran gave him her own smile of triumph, patting the pouch tied to her waste. Her inheritance jingled. “One does not inherit Sinclair assets without a few benefits.”

She had kept that hidden from Blaine. At the time, she hadn’t understood her own reluctance at showing Blaine the portion she was keeping for herself, but luck had apparently been on her ignorant side. Upon packing for their trip to the Highlands, she had pushed aside her guilt and done what her gut told her—store and hide as much of the money she could. Of course, she told herself that she was doing it as a contingency plan, and that had helped to alleviate the guilt.

Now, she was grateful for her thoughtfulness. Blaine would have never allowed her to leave had she known Saeran had funds.

“What is that look for?”

“Haven’t you heard, my dear Connor? Dresses are a girl’s best friend—and I plan to buy a few, as well as a room at the inn.” She gave him a jaunty nod, turned on her heels, and started away from him. She would not be deterred, and damn anyone who tried to stop her—including Connor.

“The village is this way, my lady,” he said in a droll manner, grabbing her by the arm and steering her in what she assumed was the correct direction.

“Thank you, sir.” Then she stormed off, hands on her hips, thoughts whirling. When she was only several steps away from him, she began to panic. She couldn’t do this alone—she had never done or attempted anything like this!

Yes, she was pretending to, once again, be something she was not in the form of a serving woman for Blaine, but—but this was different! She was in possible danger, no matter how much she wanted to believe otherwise.

Saeran started to tremble, hands sweating.

Connor agreed with that much, or he would be coming with her. Saeran wrapped her arms around her chest, shoulders slumping. Aye, she couldn’t do this, but she had made up her mind and would continue on with her decision, as best she could. She felt, deep in her soul, that Blaine was up to more than even Saeran suspected.

The voice that came from behind her moments later made her breathe a sigh of relief.

“Well, you can’t be doing this alone now, can you?” Though he was mumbling to himself, she nodded emphatically.

“Aye, I couldn’t. Does that mean you’ll be helping me?”

“Only because the laird would have my head if he found out I let you do this without protection.” They began walking together, Connor twining his arm through hers. To someone else, it would have looked odd. Two men, walking in the forest alone, arm in arm. Saeran didn’t care in the least. His presence calmed her enough that she could walk properly.

“The laird does not care for Saeran all that much,” she pointed out, remembering the way their eyes had met before he left. There had been conflict, confusion. Speculation. It brought a chill down her back, to think that he might be connecting the pieces. “Alice is a different story, though.”

“Yes, which is exactly why I said he’ll have my head—because eventually, he will discover who you really are, and, my sweet Saeran, I cannot wait until that day comes!”

“Well I feel terribly sad for you,” she said, looking at the ground. “It will not happen.”

“My lady—”

“Please,” she said, suddenly sick to her stomach. “Can we not just finish our mission? No more talk of that, or of Kane.”

He frowned at her. “What are you upset about, my lady?” When she didn’t answer, he must have taken it upon himself to think of what could have her upset. He patted her shoulder, nodding knowingly when she looked at him.

“Jealousy is a terrible thing. Do not worry about the other women—”

“What are you talking about?” she asked. Other women? There were other women besides her, and she had not known? Her chest tightened.

“The laird—he was flippant about the brothels. I assumed you were jealous of his past in them. It’s why you’re upset, no?”

She stared at him, frown growing. “Upset? There is nothing to be upset about that. He is a man, Connor. Men love women in their beds. I might not be married, but I know that much. What he did in his past does not affect our future.”

“’Our future’,” he echoed. A grin split his lips. “Oh, Saeran, I do believe you are slipping in your effort to be covert.”

“You read far too much into things,” she growled, quickening her pace. His laughter followed behind her.

* * *

The grass was shifting in waves over the vast hills. Moonlight accented the journey of the wind as it caressed the green tips of the Highlands. The scene was surreal, cold, and yet welcoming at the same time. A soft, frigid wind blew pale blonde hair back from Saeran’s now-clean face. She gripped her newly bought skirts in her hand, waiting in the blue light for her query to reveal himself.

Mayhap she had been late in arriving? Mayhap he had already come and gone? Saeran looked behind her, towards Connor. She could not see him in the shadows, but she knew he was there, waiting. That was the only comfort she allowed herself. She clutched the missive from Blaine in her hand.

It had taken her longer than she had thought to find a fitting dress—bought off of the inn owner’s wife, for an unreasonably high price—fresh water to clean her face off with, and black wax to reseal the letter. It had taken so long, in fact, that she was once again wondering if she had missed him.

Mayhap it was for the better that she missed him. This was clearly a terrible idea—Connor had said so himself, and when had Connor ever been wrong? She shifted the weight of her feet, the missive crumpling in her fingers.

Aye, a terrible idea. Saeran resigned herself to a failed plan and, with a not-so-heavy heart, turned on her heels—that is, until a rustling of grass drew her attention to a dark figure just across from her.

“You are not Blaine,” the voice whispered. She squinted, trying to see a face. Hidden in the shadows as he was, it was impossible. Saeran held out the missive, bidding him to come forward. Her hand was trembling. She prayed he didn’t notice it.

“She sent me here with a letter for you,” Saeran said, watching as a bent form came out of the shadows. Inch by inch, a man’s face was revealed, and soon enough, his body followed suit. She almost ran screaming for the hills.

He was grotesque, like a demon. His face was pale, fat with skin, and splotched with red, brown, and grey. She retracted her hand slightly, fear settling in her gut. What could happen to a man to make him look so…

She couldn’t finish the thought. Saeran felt horrible for her quick judgment of him, but nonetheless kept her space as he came forward. In his gnarled hands, there was a black, velvet sack. She watched him wearily.

“Let me see that,” he demanded, his old man’s voice weak. She deftly gave him the letter, mentally crossing herself when he met and held her eyes. They were grey, silvery—almost as if he were blind. This was the man Blaine loved?

The thought made her look at the ground. There was more going on than everything appeared.

She listened, watching him out of the corner of her eye, as he opened the paper. She watched as small crumbles of wax fell and bounced on the grass. She had no clue what to do in this situation—she was an imposter, in possible danger, and had no clue what to say to find out answers.

“’Condition has become critical’,” he muttered. She jumped when he shot in front of her with much more speed than she would have thought he possessed. “What does this mean, her condition has become critical?”

“I—I am not sure,” Saeran said, backing away from him. A ferocious light entered his eyes. “She has appeared healthy to all who have seen her. She just—I was told she could not make the trip, so she gave me the letter to give to you. I will take back any message you have for her, of course,” she said soothingly, trying to placate him. With each word out of his mouth, he began to resemble a beast, an animal gone wild.

Thankfully, Connor had stayed out of sight. The man had yet to make a move toward Saeran with actual intent. Even if he did, she was sure she could handle him. He was half her size, and not in the best of shape.

“I—I—woman. Blaine. She should have come. What is wrong with her? What has her so sick that she cannot see her own—I need to speak with her, immediately. Immediately, immediately.” He limped backwards, away from her, his own rambling voice trailing off into insanity. Her heart pounded. She couldn’t let him go—she had to know what was going on, she had to have some answers!

“Nay!” she said forcefully, taking his arm. She cringed at the feel of pure skin over bone. Not a single ounce of meat graced his flesh. “She does not wish to see anyone.”

“I am her—no! Take your hand off of me, I will see her for myself and I—” He stumbled backward, a sharp, airy bark leaving his mouth. She cursed, shooting forward to prevent him from falling. He struggled against her help, but the second he was righted, he seemed to calm. “I cannot make the journey, but I need to see my Blaine. I need to see my Blaine. In so long—so long I haven’t. She was…Why didn’t she come for me?” he croaked, taking hold of her hands and tightening his grip around them. The velvet sack he had been holding fell to the ground.

She tried to tug herself away from him. In the shadows, just beyond his head, she saw the outline of Connor coming forward. The flash of metal she saw told her he was prepared to defend her. Saeran quickly shook her head, the same time she managed to pull out of his grasp.

With soothing tones, she said, “Give me a message, and I will relay it to her for you. I will make sure she gets it. Alright? Please, sir. Let me help you.”

“Blaine…should be the one to help me.”

“And she will,” Saeran murmured, patting him on the shoulders. The same grey eyes met hers, though this time they were glazed, confused. It was almost as if he were staring through her, not at her. Saeran tried to keep her fear to a low. It would only send him into a panic if she did otherwise.

“You promise,” he said sharply. “Promise to bring me Blaine.”

“Yes,” she lied. “I promise.”

“Tell her—tell her she needs to see him. Him and his companion—and soon, but only after she sees me,” he insisted, wild eyes staring up into hers. “She must come see me first. I need to see my Blaine. Need to—need to see her.”

“Where and when does she need to meet them?” Saeran asked, trying to make him focus. He was so wrapped up in some inner turmoil that it appeared he did not notice her at all.

“After me,” he rasped, throwing his hands in the air. The action sent his body balance, and he pitched forward. “After meeee.”

His wail ended when she caught him, once again righting him. He jerked and growled in her grip, eyes unfocused, hands clenching and unclenching.

This was not what she had expected. At the same time, she was getting more out of it than she had originally thought she would. She pushed the guilt over the ordeal aside, telling herself that this had to happen, that she had to do this for her own good.

“Where and when?” she repeated, praying that she got the information out of him before he was completely lost to insanity. Drool slid out of the side of his mouth, thick and nearly yellow. Saeran backed away from him, shuddering.

There was something wrong with him, and she couldn’t begin to think of what. She almost didn’t want to.

“Here. Always here. My Blaine knows this—she has to be here in two days. Do you understand?” he gasped, gaping at her like a fish out of water. “She has to see me first.”

Saeran stared at him with wide eyes. He was honestly foaming at the mouth. His legs gave out, and she was too stunned to catch him for a third time. “Here, two days. Same time?” she asked, kneeling in front of him. He nodded, but it was more of a spasmodic jerking of his body, and his head was caught in the wave.

When his eyes closed and he fell silent, his chest moving with a steadiness that depicted sleep, she looked behind her. Connor was there, watching the man with the same horrified look she wore.

“Do we help him?” she whispered as Connor came up beside her. He was silent for a while.

“I…I am not entirely sure. How bad would we feel if we left him here?” he asked, squinting at the man.

Saeran sighed. “I do not think I would sleep properly.”

“Fine. You take his hands, and I’ll take his feet. We can take him back to the inn, and mayhap someone can show us where to put him.”

“Aye,” she said with another sigh, reaching for his hands. Connor picked up the forgotten black sack and tucked it away, then took the man’s feet. Upon seeing the grey-yellow nails, she adjusted her hold and took his wrists. They were frail and when they lifted him, it felt as if he’d break.

Thankfully, the village was only a couple paces away. While Connor gingerly took him by the feet, she blessed the Lord that he had come with her. She didn’t know what she would do without him.