Chapter Thirteen

Brenna hadn’t expected to be warmly welcomed into the clan, and she had been mostly right. Upon Cameron’s announcement the morning after he had claimed her, insisting she wear her léine and arasaid arranged to reveal her right shoulder as he had done, there had been various responses. Most had been tepid or reluctant, with a few sincere congratulations among them.

Glynis had looked like she was choking on her food, and Brenna had wished that perhaps it would finish her off, but she’d soon regained her breath and stormed from the Great Hall. To her surprise, that seemed to have been the end of the matter though. Glynis hadn’t approached her again, and she hadn’t issued any threats or tried to come after her. Maybe being claimed by the laird gave an extra layer of protection against Glynis, and she was relieved for that.

It could also be because she was no longer working in the kitchens. She’d offered to continue to do so, but both Dolag and Cameron had vetoed that idea. She was to be the lady of the Balfour clan, and there would be other duties, like running the household. Never mind she had no idea how to do that, for Dolag had stepped in and was gently guiding her. At least that part was going smoothly.

So was having Lianne with her, and the two sisters were out hunting this afternoon. It was a fine day, but it was also starting to get colder in the area as the days passed. Having seen some of the women wearing rabbit fur linings in their arasaids had given Brenna and Lianne the idea of going hunting to find fur of their own, for winter would soon be upon them, and they had both heard from many people in the clan that it would be too harsh for Englishwomen like them.

“I have yet to see a rabbit,” said Brenna with a soft sigh.

“I’m sure they are out here. We must be patient. Hunting takes quite a long time.”

“I know. I suppose I am too impatient. I just want everything to be over and settled into happy contentment.” She wanted the people of the clan to accept their mating, and she wanted them to like her. Perhaps that was a foolish hope, and the most she could ever expect would be tolerance.

She was getting that in spades, but it was clearly delivered reluctantly, for the most part. She couldn’t even blame the people for their skepticism and lack of welcome, for she was English, and she had worked for Walstone to cause harm to their people, though that had never been her choice. She was thankful again for Cameron’s protection and marveled he could overlook her past as the Bloodiest Eye.

“You will settle into that in time. I am certain you are destined for great happiness, dear sister.”

Before she could say anything else, Brenna heard wings overhead. She looked up, hoping it would be Cameron.

“It sounds like Kiersten might be coming to see us,” said Lianne with a strong note of happiness in her tone.

Brenna looked at her sister. “You are quite fond of Kiersten.”

“She is quite a lovable little girl, and I cannot have children. I must take the moments of enjoyment where I find them.”

Brenna started to ask her about her assertion of infertility, but the wings appeared then, and she gasped when she saw a blue dragon diving at them. “Run,” she shouted to Lianne, unsurprised when the dragon veered away from her sister to pursue her.

Seconds later, sharp talons wrapped around her and jerked her off her feet, dragging her into the air. Glynis was holding her so tightly she could barely breathe, and she half expected the dragon to take her high in the air and then drop her to her death, but instead, Glynis flew on.

They flew for more than an hour, with Brenna continuously struggling to escape until she lost the energy for it. She decided it would be better to conserve her strength so she might be able to evade whatever awaited her, but as they drew closer to the area where Walstone’s encampment was, Brenna grew more and more certain where Glynis was taking her and less confident with each passing moment that she would be able to escape again.

She recalled the strict and harsh way Walstone had watched over her either himself or via a guard when she had first been taken as captive, and she was certain he would return her to that level of security. She trembled in the dragon’s clutches, and Glynis let out a chuffing sound that was probably a laugh. She clearly enjoyed Brenna’s misery.

When they crossed into the English side, it was immediately obvious. There were knights mulling around, and she could see the characteristic tents in the distance. She’d covered all this distance on foot, but it’d taken many hours compared to Glynis’s abilities in the sky. As Glynis started to dive toward Earth, Brenna did her best to try to visualize what she was seeing while focusing on her sister.

She hoped she could convey to Lianne where Glynis had taken her. Likely, Cameron would soon figure it out anyway, but she wasn’t sure he would be able to rescue her. The area was well-fortified, and some of the best mages in England were stationed at the battle site, because it was a critical one for England or Scotland.

Without a word, Glynis released her about ten feet from the ground, and Brenna fell hard, landing against the solid earth with a cry that took all the breath from her. Her body was overwhelmingly aching to the point she barely noticed the soldiers surrounding her for a long moment. It was only when a familiar voice broke through her pain that she stiffened and looked up as Sir Frederick Walstone strode toward her.

He was unfairly beautiful. She’d always thought that about him. He had long, flowing blond hair, ice-blue eyes, and classic Anglo features. He was beautiful on the outside, but she knew just how cold and putrid he was on the inside, and she had nothing but shivers of terror consuming her as he approached.

“You have been delivered as promised. You’ve been a bad Seer, Brenna.” He spoke with a note of paternal chastisement, as though she’d committed only a minor infraction. He was looking down at her with disappointment, and that was almost more terrifying than if he’d revealed the true depth of his fury.

She was certain he must be feeling enraged with her, for she had escaped him. She remembered some of the beatings she’d taken in the past, and she shook again as she tried to brace herself for what was coming.

“Take her to my tent,” said Walstone after a moment to some of his minions. “I shall be with you when you deserve it, Brenna.” With a shake of his head, he turned and walked away, for all intents and purposes completely forgetting she was there. She knew what an excellent actor he was. No doubt, he was still seething at her perceived betrayal and imagining what he was going to do to her to make her pay.

She trembled as she considered it while three knights forced her to her feet and dragged her across the encampment, tossing her in his tent. It was far lavisher than the one she had occupied before her escape, and she found it faintly ridiculous that he had such a luxurious setup in an encampment while they waged war nearby.

She was almost shocked when no one tied her up, but she was certain they were guarding both exits from the tent, and she didn’t try to escape. None of his people were stupid, and if she hadn’t been so well-behaved for so long in an attempt to fool them, her previous guard wouldn’t have been complacent enough to allow her to knock him out.

She thought about sitting on the pile of cushions, but she couldn’t force herself to be still. Though it was a waste of energy, she started pacing as dread filled her, recognizing this was part of her punishment. He wanted her to stew on what he was going to do to her, to be stretched to the limits of her nerves by the time he joined her. Wallowing in her own anxiety was a big part of his reprimand, but she doubted it was anywhere close to his primary plan.

When he finally entered, she almost sobbed with relief. It wasn’t that she wanted to see him, of course, but at least that phase of uncertainty was over. She would rather face what was coming and get it over with. She did let out a whimper when she saw the goblet in his hand, convinced it held the potion he made her drink each time he wanted a vision from her. She took a step back involuntarily, hating to reveal her weakness to him, but wishing to flee whatever his intentions were.

“You have been a great disappointment to me.” The paternal tone was gone. He sounded strictly cold and angry now, and she shuddered when he unwound the whip he kept on his belt. She knew from previous experience it was sharp, taut, and could leave deep furrows in her skin.

“Take off your filthy Scottish attire.”

She doubted he had anything untoward in mind, and she truly didn’t want him to ruin the arasaid her mate had given her, but on the other hand, she was unwilling to allow him to see the mating bite on her shoulder. As soon as he saw the mark, he would know she’d been compromised, and he would believe her power was gone. Without any reason to keep her alive, he would most certainly kill her, and likely in the most painful way possible to make her pay for what he considered her betrayal.

With trembling fingers, she undid the belt and removed the plaid, but she kept on the léine. “You do not need to see me naked.”

He shrugged a shoulder after a moment, apparently deciding it mattered not. “Turn around and grasp the footboard. You shall need it, my dear.” He sounded darkly gleeful, clearly anticipating what he was about to inflict upon her.

She thought about fighting, but she knew from previous experience there was little point. If she managed to elude him, he would have some of his guards hold her while he whipped her. He had done that many times in the past. That he still wanted her to have a vision afterward suggested he didn’t intend to beat her into unconsciousness or death, so with quiet dignity, she turned away from him and grasped the footboard.

She whimpered at the first sting of the whip across her back seconds later. It left a hot, burning trail through her skin, and she could feel blood trickling down as the whip jerked back. She barely had time to process the first hit before another followed, along with several more in quick succession. When he finally stopped somewhere after six, she sagged forward against the bedframe and tried to bite back a sob, though she wasn’t entirely successful.

He came forward then, holding out the goblet. “Drink this and reveal my next move, Seer.” There was a hard edge to his tone.

She was afraid to refuse, but she couldn’t allow herself to voluntarily be used to give him a vision that might be used against the Balfour clan and her mate. She shook her head, doing her best to push away from him as he turned her in his arms, dragged her head backward by her hair, and pressed the goblet to her mouth.

She refused to open her lips, but he wouldn’t be deterred. He kept pushing and pushing until she could taste copper in her mouth and feel the jagged edge of the goblet ripping her lower lip. As soon as there was an opening, the liquid poured into her mouth, and all she could do was try to fight the urge to swallow it.

Evidently satisfied he’d gotten the liquid inside her mouth, he tossed aside the goblet but continued to hold her with her back bowed, tugging forcefully on her hair. With his other hand, he clamped her nose shut. “Swallow.”

She knew it was futile to resist, but she didn’t have it in her to easily comply, especially understanding the stakes. It had been bad enough to have visions that helped him in battle when she hadn’t directly known the people, but now that she knew the clan involved, and she had a better appreciation for the other clans and how they lived, though she had not yet met any of the ones neighboring the Balfours, it was unconscionable to cooperate at all.

Inevitably, the need for oxygen overpowered her, and she was helpless to stop the compulsion to swallow as she gasped for air. As soon as the liquid cleared her throat, he released her nose and her hair, letting her fall to the floor. She screamed in agony as her freshly whipped back collided with the rug, deciding it provided little protection from the hard ground.

She rolled into a ball of misery, curled up in the fetal position as the potion flooded her system. It sent her into a spiral of chaotic visions, bright colors, and a loss of reality. She had little idea of what was real or false until a sharp, clear vision came to her. It was the one she had seen before with Cameron. He was naked, covered with blood, and screaming her name.

Slowly, the potion left her system, and she woke up and became aware of herself again several minutes later. She was still lying on the rug in the tent, though she had abandoned the fetal position and now laid on her stomach, likely driven to that pose from the agony of lying on her back.

“Excellent,” said Walstone. He sounded like he was gloating. “You have foreseen Cameron Balfour’s death. That is tremendous news.” As he spoke, he knelt on the floor beside her.

She was too weak to get to her feet for the moment, and she whimpered when he grasped a handful of her hair to drag her up, providing the most painful assistance possible to get her on her feet again. To her surprise, he didn’t let her go. He pulled her closer, and she grimaced when he licked her jaw all the way up to her ear. “You can’t—”

“Soon, I can. Once I have put down that cur, Edward II will give me his lands, and I am finally going to be freed from service. I will no longer need your Sight, Brenna. Instead, you will be my consort. Once, I thought to make you my wife, but your escape attempt has put quietus to that notion. You will warm my bed and grace my dungeons, and when I am finished with you, I will dispose of you in the fashion you deserve.” He licked her again.

Brenna whimpered as she struggled to pull away. In the process, his hand clamped on the neckline of her léine, and she managed one last burst of strength to get away from him. That caused the fabric to rip, revealing her right shoulder.

For a moment, he didn’t seem to realize the significance, but then his gaze refocused, and he craned his head to look at her shoulder. She did her best to cover the mating mark. She certainly wasn’t ashamed of it, but she knew it would seal her fate once he realized what it was.

“You have destroyed yourself and your power for one of those dragon-shifters. You disgusting, foul fiend.” As he spoke, he reached for the whip, but he didn’t wait for it. Instead, he backhanded her, sending Brenna flying across the tent.

As he stomped after her, she cried out at the first touch of the whip against her side, doing her best to roll over to protect her stomach and her face, though she doubted he would provide any mercy. He seemed like he intended to kill her, and so great was his rage, coupled with his belief that she no longer had the gift of Sight, she didn’t have any doubt he would carry through with it. Perhaps he might regret it later, but he was too far gone in his anger to think logically now.

The whip came down without mercy again and again, and she was barely clinging to consciousness. She was certain she was hallucinating when she saw Cameron suddenly in the doorway of the tent, roaring, “Brenna,” in a pained and anguish tone. He rushed forward, but her eyes closed and, and she genuinely believed he was nothing more than a fantasy conjured by her mind to accompany her on the long journey to death.