“Yes. Start with Mikkel and Gregor. We shall bind Fowler last.” I didn’t take my attention from Mikkel and took pleasure when his eyes widened again at the use of their given names.
“I regret that you know more about us than we do about you, my lady.” He didn’t resist as Humphrey disarmed him and jerked his hands behind his back.
“’Tis not enough for Irontooth. In fact, ’twill not be enough until he has wrung the truth from you. One way or another.”
“I shall be more than willing to speak with Irontooth.” Mikkel showed confidence and none of the fear I’d wanted to instill. “I’ve been hoping to have an audience with him. And now, I shall have my chance.”
Several of our band had been captured last week by Blade’s outcasts, and Irontooth had decided to abduct these newest recruits in retaliation. Of course, I’d offered to lead the expedition, since I needed all the practice in kidnapping I could get. Then when I returned to the palace in Kensington, I’d be able to spirit Ruby away without the queen’s knowledge.
Just the merest thought of my younger sister twisted a knot inside, the one that had formed the day I’d been forced to leave her behind.
The day the queen had set out to murder me.
As it was, I hadn’t known anything until it was too late, and I had barely escaped with my life.
During my long days of hiding and running, I’d sobbed many silent tears for the sweet child who would be devastated when she received the news of my death. I’d contemplated sending her a note and letting her know I was alive.
However, every time I started to pen a letter, I stopped. At twelve, Ruby was still too young to keep a secret from the queen, and communication would put us both in more peril.
I’d only been able to pray for her these long months we’d been apart, that God would give her strength in her grief. At least Ruby had her friendship with the nuns who lived in the abbey connected with Kensington Cathedral. Since Father’s death, she’d requested visits from them almost daily, beseeching them for prayer and comfort. Now in my absence, I was trusting the dear women to do whatever they could to take care of my sister.
And I lived with the hope that soon—very soon—I’d be able to escape with Ruby from Warwick to a new place where we could start over and never again have to worry about the manipulations of our mother.
A shiver raced up my backbone, one filled with the chill of not only all I’d left behind in my old life but also of approaching danger. I peered into the mist, searching for shadows and listening for the sounds of a vessel. Though I heard nothing, the trepidation remained.
“Time to go,” I said quietly.
Toad and Humphrey finished binding the prisoners, and then after dividing them between the two boats, we hunkered down and rowed around the island. The fog was no barrier to us, since we were accustomed to maneuvering in all conditions. Our prisoners remained silent and cooperative, clearly sensing we were not the only enemies they must worry about.
By the time we reached the far western shore, an ocean breeze rolling in with the waves pushed against the fog, lifting it and leaving a gentle rain in its place. We rowed into one of the narrow inlets and stowed the boats under the thick evergreen branches that bowed against the water.
Fowler had long since roused and had the sense not to cause any trouble. We chained all three prisoners together in a line and marched up the rocky path toward the caves we called home. I fell into step beside Mikkel, the clinking of the prisoners’ chains nearly drowned out by the rushing of the river in the gorge below.
The more information I could get from him before arriving at camp, the better. Somehow I needed to impress Irontooth and prove I was ready to launch my rescue of Ruby.
“From whence do you come?” I asked.
He cast me a glance, one filled with curiosity. “I shall tell you if you’re willing to reveal the same about yourself.”
“Very well. I hail from Warwick.” I’d perfected the tale of my being an outcast months ago and could so easily speak the lies interwoven with the truth that I could hardly distinguish one from the other anymore. “My family lives in Kensington.”
“I am from Scania. My family lives in Bergen during the winter and Trommen for the summer months.”
Scania was at least one week away, if not two, by boat. Why was a nobleman from a foreign country on the Isle of Outcasts? “You are far from home.”
“Yes, I miss my homeland.” A wistful note in his voice revealed his sincerity. “Although, I admit to taking a liking to Norland. She’s a beautiful country and reminds me of Scania.”
As the northernmost country of the Great Isle, Norland had a colder climate and more mountainous terrain than either Mercia or Warwick. And Norland was home to many small islands off her coast, most uninhabitable.
Though low clouds still hung over our island, the rugged hills partially covered in thick pine and fir rose around us. The path beneath our boots was rock and dirt made smooth from the many feet traversing it over the years. But on either side, the crags were jagged and hostile.
I’d hiked the width of the island once, and crossing the rocky terrain had taken me the better part of a day. The length was at least double the width, which provided plenty of space for the two groups of warring outcasts to remain far away from each other. Blade’s band took the southern part of the island, and our band lived on the northern end.
“You speak the language of the Great Isle well,” I said. Only men and women of high birth were versed in foreign languages, the result of years of tutoring. I knew because it was true of myself.
“My mother is from the Great Isle.” He hesitated, as if he was giving too much about himself away. “While I was growing up, she spoke little else but her native language around me.”
I had not heard of nobility marrying outside their country of birth. Royalty often did so for political alliances, but what reason did his mother have to marry a nobleman from Scania? “What brings you to Norland and this isle?”
He shot a glance toward his servant, who walked several paces ahead. “Gregor.”
After living amongst the outcasts of society for the past year, I no longer noticed the differences in their appearances. But now, I studied Gregor, taking in the burns covering half his body. The scarred man spoke little but seemed to see and hear everything. Perhaps, like many of the other outcasts, he’d gained heightened sensory awareness to make up for his deficiencies.
“You don’t strike me as the type of man willing to make so great a sacrifice for someone so insignificant to you.”
“And who says Gregor is insignificant?”
“You need not say it. ’Tis clear enough without words.”
Mikkel’s brows furrowed into thunderheads, and his heavy steps drew to a halt, jerking both Gregor and Fowler to a stop as well. Several of the men in the lead grumbled and cajoled Fowler, who proceeded to mock them in return, earning a slap in the face.
At the sight of Fowler’s trouble, Mikkel started up again, but this time he slowed his steps. I hoped he was rethinking his answer and would elaborate more, but instead he changed the subject. “Your turn, my lady. What brings you to Norland and this isle?”
“Is it not obvious?” I resituated my veil.
“Did your family scorn you for—for your blemishes?” He slanted a look toward the veil, then focused on the steeply rising trail ahead, but not before I saw pity in his eyes.