Dìlseachd - A Stolen Crown [Excerpt only] | NOW A PUBLISHED NOVEL

Chapter 2: An Unexpected Encounter

CAERLOCH rose dark and ominous against the stormy horizon as Fiona and Sgàil drew near. The growing winds and the pounding hooves beneath Fiona did nothing to soothe the questions in her mind. The grey clouds loomed threateningly above the bleak and imposing towers that sprawled around the thick castle walls. Guards paced on the battlements, their black armour dim spots against the paler stone. But they did not take special notice of the red-haired princess approaching the gates; perhaps Lady Nuith had not realised Fiona's long absence after all.

As Fiona crossed the bridge running over the deep and muddy moat, the guards slowly raised up the creaking iron portcullis, permitting her to pass without asking questions. She exhaled softly, some of the worry sliding off her shoulders and remaining outside the castle walls. Perhaps it would be all right.

But then the dim daylight caught on the crimson raven emblem on the guards' shields, drawing Fiona's gaze and sending a familiar fear whispering across her skin.

Whether Lady Nuith knew of that afternoon's happenings or not, it did not lessen the danger the princess was in.

Fiona spurred Sgàil onward, shutting away the image of those bloody ravens as she glanced up out of habit at the dark murder holes in the stone arch above her head. While grim reminders of Caerloch's double function as both a residence and a defensible fortress, she never knew when something might be hurled through those holes intended for her. She did not think Lady Nuith would stoop so low as to have her murdered in such a way, but she did not know how or when Nuith would dispose of her. That fear of the unknown constantly wormed its way into her thoughts whenever she was enclosed behind the walls of Caerloch; it was only on the moors that Fiona felt truly free. And who knew how long those tastes of freedom would last.

A cold gust howled across the courtyard and Fiona shivered as she dismounted; she had forgotten to bring her cloak. A scowling stable hand came forward and led her horse away without saying a word to her. Fiona was used to being ignored and took no notice.

The courtyard was mostly empty, save for a group of white doves pecking at some grain left on the ground for them. Thin tendrils of smoke drifted up from the open windows of the kitchens, which were below ground, but that was the only sign of life. Even the blacksmith's forge remained oddly silent, and Fiona shivered again, though this time not because of the wind.

Whether Lady Nuith was waiting for her or not, Fiona walked across the echoing courtyard and entered the foot of the tower, the remaining daylight vanishing behind the closed door. It was dim inside, the only light coming from the small slits in the wall meant for archers. There were no windows on the ground floor, and the torches in their respective brackets were not lit. It all gave a horrible, oppressive feeling, and Fiona ran up the spiralling stairs as if she could escape it if she went fast enough.

Inhaling deeply to better prepare herself for whatever encounter with Nuith awaited her, Fiona entered her apartments, stepping into a small, narrow corridor. The torch on the wall was not lit here either, and a cold draft came through unseen cracks in the stone.

The princess hesitated.

Lady Nuith rarely came here, preferring instead for Fiona to go to her. But an air of waiting hung about the whole place, as if something were about to happen. It was not just in the empty courtyard, but in the unlit torches, the dark hallways, and the onerous silence.

What was going on?

Without further hesitation, Fiona opened another door to her chambers, a much broader room with oaken panelling along the walls and high windows that revealed the fading light outside. There was not much else save her bed, a sturdy chest that contained her clothing and other belongings, and a few chairs. A fire burned in the small fireplace in one wall, lighting and warming up the room as the evening chill approached and filling the place with the welcome scent of apple logs.