Cait and the Devil (26 page)

“But she is your daughter. Can’t you go into a trance or something? Divine where she is? Isn’t that within your powers?”

“Sometimes.
My powers are a gift of the Goddess. Sometimes
She
gives the sight. Sometimes
She
does not.”

Henna came forward with a tray of food and drink for the priestess, but she waved it away.

“No. I will fast. You will help me, woman. You are the healer here?”

Henna nodded.

“Come. Show me the highest, most open vantage point in the keep. I will meditate and fast until dawn. Tell your men to be ready. We will not find her by skulking about here.”

* * * * *

Cait
hunched over outside the cottage. She rocked slowly, trailing her fingers through the dirt, remembering him. She couldn’t think of his name. It was too horribly painful to think it, to remember his hands, his warmth,
his
lips.
His gentleness.
She kept his name inside her heart, like a treasure, locked away.

Locked away, just as she was.

She’d tried to escape. So many times she’d started walking, started running directionless through the woods. She wasn’t locked away behind any door, any iron bars or windows. She was locked behind a wilderness of endless, impenetrable woods. And so she waited, but everyday she hoped a little less.

Soon enough, she knew, the old earl would understand about the baby. She didn’t know what he would do. She never knew what he would do, only that it would be wicked and violent and painful. It would be impossible to endure if he harmed the baby. Even though it wasn’t Duncan’s, she loved it all the same. It was the only thing that comforted her as the lonely weeks went by. As long as the baby was inside her, he couldn’t harm it.
Unless he killed her, which he threatened to do all the time.
When I grow tired of you, Princess, I’ll throw you from the tower. So you had best not grow tiresome. You had best do as I say.

And she did do everything he demanded of her. She learned that abject obeisance could sometimes stave off his ire. She groveled, she cowered, she begged and cringed and shrank before him. When he demanded it, she bowed and served his men. More and more he passed her off to them, drowning himself in drink while they used her one after the other. He was growing tired of her. Perhaps the end would come soon.

She had no way of knowing, and thinking about it only troubled her already unquiet mind. She couldn’t think as she used to. Her wits were going hazy. It was a blessing. She lived moment by moment, tried to live outside the atrocities he visited on her. And most of all, for her sanity, she didn’t think of
him
.

Only once a day, at dusk, while the earl drank with his henchmen, she allowed herself to look up at the sky and think that, perhaps, he too looked up and thought of her. She thought hard, every night.
I’m here, Duncan.
Wherever here is.

Please come.

* * * * *

“Come!” shrilled
Edana
. “We are close. I can feel it.”

For a week now, at dusk, she had led Duncan and his men deeper and deeper into the woods outside
Dunain
, through trees and brush so thick that the horses balked and progress was slow. But
Edana
pressed forward urgently, as if Caitlyn’s voice herself was calling aloud.

“Stay together!” he barked to his men. He believed that
Edana
was leading them to
Cait
, but he also knew his father would not be alone. Duncan had brought an army one hundred strong to bring her home.

Edana
paused, closing her eyes. The army of men fell silent as the grave, so silent one could hear the whispering of the wind in the trees. Even the horses seemed to hold their breath, not shifting, not exhaling. For a long moment, she meditated, then opened her eyes and turned to the west.

“She is near.” Duncan’s hair stood on end as it always did when she spoke in that voice. “She is near. She lives. She waits. She calls to you,” she finished in a whisper edged with tears.

He looked at the steadfast woman, her back straight, her chin jutting forward stubbornly even as he heard the tremor in her voice. He’d never even considered
her own
grief.
Cait
was her daughter, as well as his wife. Of course this must be difficult for her as well. He thought sometimes that
Edana
felt and saw things she didn’t tell him. He saw her lips go white, saw her eyes close in pain, but he was too afraid to ask...

“Tonight?” he asked instead, his voice hopeful. “Tonight?” he asked again when she didn’t respond.

“I don’t know.” She waited, shaking her head. “No, I’ve lost her. Tomorrow,” she said with determination. “Tomorrow at dusk, we will search again.”

Duncan’s shoulders slumped in the fading twilight.
Another day.
It was excruciating when he, too, could feel they were near.

“She is west, you believe? Shall we go west?”

“The light is fading.”

“I cannot wait,” he said through gritted teeth. “God help me, I cannot wait. These nights, these days...I cannot bear them—”

“I hear her only at dusk!” snapped
Edana
. “I am doing all I can! I do not wish to wander around blind and end up farther away! We wait until dusk tomorrow, to be sure of our direction!”

Duncan sighed and walked away from her. He would walk all night. They could stay where they were, but for himself, he would walk. He would walk until he tripped over the godforsaken hiding place where she was. He could hear the men dismounting, preparing to camp for the night. He turned around,
then
stood still as stone, looked and listened. There was no fire, no sound, no light that he could see, and yet he
knew
. She was so near. He could feel her, he could sense her. He could smell her in the air.

He looked up at the darkening sky, then down at his feet. His eyes widened in astonishment and he fell to his knees.

His name was written there in the dirt, his own name in quickly scrawled letters.

DUNCAN

It was his name written in her hand. Her letters, right there. The message was hidden in the shadow of thick brush.

And beside his name, making his blood pound in his veins, an arrow pointed the way.

* * * * *

They uncovered the enclave just before dawn. It was only a small holding, a cottage, some outbuildings, the ruins of a keep. From outside, it looked sleepy and peaceful. A few of his father’s men slept in the open air of the overgrown courtyard. No one kept watch.
Edana
led Duncan to a small storehouse behind the cottage. It was locked, but Duncan had it open with a silent swipe of his weapon. He motioned
Edana
to wait but she would not be deterred. They entered the small room together. It was dark, dank.
Freezing.

She was there.

She stirred on the pallet on the ground, waking only slightly. She turned away, hunched in a miserable ball.

“She thinks you are him,” whispered
Edana
.

Duncan crossed the small distance in a heartbeat and took her in his arms. She resisted with a soft sob.

“
Cait
, it is me. Caitlyn, my dearest...”

She turned to him, her eyes dull with disbelief. She reached out to touch him mournfully.

“It is a dream. A dream only...”

“It is no dream,
Cait
. I promise. It’s me.”

She reached to put her cool palm to his cheek,
then
pulled it away as if he burned her.

“It’s you,” she gasped, throwing her arms around his neck.

He embraced her, letting go when he felt her wince. Her clothes were ragged, dirty; her skin pale and bruised. The rank blanket she pulled around her was woefully inadequate and thin for the bitter cold. Her lovely black curls hung lank and tangled, but she was still the most beautiful sight he’d ever
beheld
in his life.

He beckoned
Edana
forward.

“Caitlyn, I swore to myself I would never, ever leave you again. But there is something I must take care of that no lady should be a party to. Stay here with
Edana
.
Your mother.
She will watch over you until I return.”

Cait’s
fingers twisted in his vest. “I want to come with you.”

“You cannot. It’s not safe. I will not be long.”

He untwisted her fingers gently and kissed them, and looked deep into her eyes. “You will be safe here until I return for you. And I swear to you, I will return.” Before he could fall to the pleading in her eyes, he turned and strode from the shed. He beckoned his men around him. Lord Douglas’s men would soon be stirring.

“Put every one of these blackguards to the sword,” Duncan said. “But leave my father to me.”

* * * * *

Cait
shivered violently. He was there, but now gone again. He had only been a dream after all. It was surely a dream, for now the strange woman who looked exactly like her was approaching as the morning half-light that filtered through the cracks in the wall. She remembered her from past dreams, in her
woad
dress with her long black hair. The
Cait
-woman was pulling off her cloak and wrapping it around her. For a dream, the cloak felt amazingly warm and real. But Duncan was gone, and she would soon awaken, and this strange older version of herself was whispering in her ear. Perhaps she had died. Could it be? She didn’t remember dying. She must only be dreaming. But it had seemed so real. He had felt so
real,
she had let herself believe this time.

“It was no dream,” the woman said. “You are awake. He will return.”

Cait
looked at her, shaking her head. She would not raise her hopes again, only to have them dashed.

“You may pinch me if you wish, and see if you hurt me,” said the woman with a smile. “If it will make you believe.”

Cait
only looked at her. She would not talk to a specter. She would not interact with a dream. She was losing her mind, but she was not that far gone yet. The woman studied her, looking thoughtfully into her eyes.

“
’Tis
true, is it not? You favor me more than a little. Your father said as much.”

“You knew my father?” she asked before she could stop herself. “My father is a king. He would help me. Can he help me, do you think?”

“Your husband is here. You need no help now. But yes, the king would have helped you if he had known you needed help. He is not
so
gifted as we are, to know when help is needed. Or perhaps he is only too preoccupied with worldly concerns.”

“You know the king?”

Edana
smiled again. “Child, I am your mother, as much as he is your sire. We know one another. There is no other way.”

“You are my mother?”
Cait
was terribly confused. She had no mother.