Page 72 of The Guardian's Witch

Alex felt like the wind was knocked out of him. “A caul. And she’ll bear kings.”

Everyone turned to him.

“Caul? I don’t understand,” said Cameron.

“According to the legend, caul bearers, people born with a shimmering veil over their face, are great healers and are gifted with foresight, a way of knowing the outcome of things before they happen.” He turned to Jamie. “Her visions.” He looked at the men. “And they bear kings. That’s why he needs her. He doesn’t want to be king. He wants to sire kings and manipulate the throne that way. He doesn’t need her. He needs her child.”

“She’s safe as long as she stays at Glen Kirk. He wouldn’t dare do anything with the king there,” said Edwin.

“I wouldn’t think he would do anything to the king’s protectors, but that didn’t stop him,” Alex stated. “We must free those men and get back to Glen Kirk. Only they can testify to Mitchell’s plot.”

“All we have to do is storm Ravencroft, a well-fortified holding, free the protectors, and bring them back to Glen Kirk. Any idea how we do that?” asked Damian.

“My man was there. He’ll take us.” Jamie pointed to Tom. “We can make our plan on the way.”

“Lead on,” said Alex as they headed for their horses.

* * *

Lisbeth’s silk skirt swished as she rushed down the empty hall. No one would miss her. The king kept everyone enthralled in the Great Hall. In Bryce’s room, she let her eyes adjust to the darkness and methodically searched, letting her intuition direct her. She approached the desk but knew there was nothing of interest there. Her hand trailed over the well-worn chest. She sensed it too was empty. She glided over to the bed. A single moonbeam illuminated the pillow. She turned away, but the glint of a jewel peeked out and caught her attention. She lifted the pillow and found a jewel-handled knife partially covered by the sheet, its blade etched in an intricate swirl pattern.

The doorknob turned. She froze. She dared not take time to uncover the knife. She dropped the pillow and raced behind the heavy curtain in front of the terrace door. She slipped out into the cold blustery night and closed the door behind her. She raced two doors down, pried the door open, and swept inside. She didn’t stop there. She picked up Lady Celeste’s shawl and escaped into the hallway.

“Well, well, Lisbeth. What are you doing here?”

Startled, she turned to see a shadowy figure in front of her, a glint of a jeweled dagger tucked in his belt. Fingers of fear crept up her spine.

He rubbed the fine wool shawl between his thumb and forefinger. “On a mission I see. I miss our little meetings in the garden. I hope you do too.” He let the shawl slip from his fingers and grabbed her. He pulled her close and assaulted her mouth in a brutal attack. She attempted to fight him off but he held her immobile.

He progressed from her mouth to her neck, laying kisses and tiny bites down its side. “You can fight all you like. No one will hear you here. Besides, I’ll win in the end. I’ll have you and your castle.”

She implored him with a whispered plea.

He chuckled and took her earlobe between his teeth, nipped it, then let go. “Ah, your warm breath encourages me. Come, my sweet—tell me more.”

She fought him with her whispers. With each breath she piled whispers in his ear, one on top of another, until it sounded like hundreds of angry bees.

Shock registered on his face. He pushed her away and shook his head while he swatted at the imagined insects.

Free, she took advantage of the distraction and hurried away. Her blood ran cold when his quiet epithet reached her ears.

“Witch. You know what they do to witches, don’t you?”

She didn’t hesitate; she kept on going.

* * *

Jamie’s man hunkered down. Alex waited for the man to make his way back to them.

“The entrance to Ravencroft is up ahead,” the man reported.

“The tunnel entrance is well hidden by undergrowth,” said Alex.

“What will we find when we enter the tunnel?” asked Jamie.

“The main tunnel goes on for about a mile, then branches into four smaller tunnels,” said Tom as he picked up a stick and drew the tunnel pattern in the soft dirt. “Three lead into the old area of Ravencroft, the library, Great Hall, and cellar. The cellar tunnel is the way to the old dungeons. That’s where the protectors are being kept. The last tunnel goes on toward the newer part of Ravencroft. We haven’t had time to explore that.”

“How do we know which tunnel is to the cellar?”

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