Page 19 of A Constant Blaze

Donald listened intently. He could hear no other horses, not even a breaking twig. He straightened his shoulders and stepped out of the trees.

“Oh, Donald,” Cairistiona said shakily. “Cover yourself, or Henry will be undone.”

Henry dismounted, grinning, pulling the roll off his saddlebag.

“Are you well?” Cairistiona asked, anxiety creeping through the slightly desperate humor. “Is your father?”

Donald nodded, still scanning the trees for signs of soldiers. Henry deposited some clothes at his feet and added a helmet and a sword. Finally, Donald breathed again.

“Mairead?” Cairistiona asked.

“With my father.”

“Good. Then you’re one of my Norman guards. Your job is to escort your father safely home to Ross.”

*

When Donald’s sobsand footsteps had faded down the stairs, Mairead sat up in the bed, and Malcolm passed her handfuls of clothing and books from his trunk—the sum of the things he’d amassed in prison. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to shape under the blanket the figure of a sleeping man. Mairead even placed Donald’s rumpled hat where pillow and blanket joined.

“Nice touch,” Malcolm said gravely. “You know, you and Donald are not so dissimilar in build as one might imagine.”

“I’m sure Adam took that into consideration when he concocted his plans.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting this meticulous son.”

“As you will very soon, if Donald has managed to get away.”If Christian hasn’t betrayed us.

Malcolm sat down on his bed. Mairead sat inside the empty chest, and they both watched the narrow slit window high above them lighten with the coming day. A sense of calm broke over Mairead. Malcolm would, God willing, return to the Lady of Ross. But she, Mairead would always have these moments, and all the others she’d spent alone with him. He would remember her.

When the first footstep sounded on the stairs, Mairead lay down in the chest and Malcolm set his hand on the lid. He paused for an instant, his dense brown eyes softening as Adam’s sometimes did. He reached down and touched her cheek.

“Bless you, Mairead,” he murmured and closed the lid.

In the darkness, a tear trickled down one side of her face, but she smiled, listening to the opening of the cell door, and the brief exchange with the guard.

“No, I will carry it,” Malcolm said proudly, and she felt herself hoisted high before settling on his shoulder. It was a long way to carry such a weight. He couldn’t have done it so easily with Donald in the chest.

She felt him pause, presumably gazing toward Donald’s bed as they’d discussed.

He said softly, “Farewell, Donald. I promise you, youwillbe freed, too.”

“Shall I wake him, my lord?” the guard asked.

Interesting he called him that, although the earldom had been taken from Malcolm over twenty years ago. Mairead just prayed the guard wasn’t helpfully shaking “Donald” and discovering he was made of clothes, a couple of books, and a hat.

“No,” Malcolm said, beginning to walk again. “We said our true farewells last night.”

The guard’s footsteps followed him. All was well.

Fresh air seeped through the chest as Malcolm arrived in the courtyard. His breathing was heavy now, but he walked several paces before lowering the chest to the ground. He didn’t even bump her. She probably wouldn’t have noticed, her heart was drumming so forcefully. This was it. This was as far as they’d get if Donald had been discovered.

Almost there, almost there.

“Malcolm mac Aed,” said the familiar voice of the young king, forceful and dignified. He was becoming, Mairead allowed, a good king. “For the sake of peace in this kingdom, we grant you your freedom. On certain conditions for which you must now give us your word.”

And if he didn’t, Mairead thought suddenly, then they’d be discovered. As would Donald’s escape. Malcolm had to agree to whatever the king demanded. And Mairead rather thought Adam had planned it that way. She just hoped he hadn’t misjudged the parent he hadn’t met in twenty-two years.

*

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