Draco A Medieval Scottish Roma - Jayne Castel Page 0,82
hundred soldiers, and I’ll finish the job you don’t have the guts to—.”
Edward’s fist shot out then, driving into Shaw Irvine’s nose.
Bone and sinew crunched under his knuckles. The laird reeled back, sprawling onto the trampled grass, blood streaming from his nose.
“I’ll not waste one more English life on this fortress,” Edward growled. “You want Dunnottar? Take it yourself.”
Gavina had stayed at Draco’s side overnight, perched upon a low stool. Toward the end of the night, she kept dropping off—and eventually her fatigue had been so great that she’d lain down on the floor next to his pallet. However, the hard flagstones had been unforgiving.
Draco’s sweat-slicked face had grown increasingly pale. After they’d removed the arrows, he’d fallen into a strange fever, one that he hadn’t yet awoken from. Elizabeth’s quick actions had helped staunch the bleeding. His midsection was now bound up.
But the dawn couldn’t come soon enough. She hated to see him suffer.
Rubbing her gritty eyes, Gavina glanced up at the high, narrow window above them. Outdoors the sky was starting to lighten. The castle was still eerily quiet—as it was every morning before the siege resumed. The silence was like an indrawn breath, waiting and watchful.
Any moment now, Draco would heal.
Gavina’s breathing quickened. And when he did, she would tell him what lay in her heart. She’d climbed onto the wall yesterday, fully intending to speak to him. However, fate had intervened.
As she watched Draco, watched his body wage its own battle, she wondered how this had actually come to pass. How had this proud, aggravating Moor managed to steal her heart?
The soft pad of footfalls behind her made Gavina turn on her stool.
Elizabeth approached, a mug of something in her hands. “Mutton broth,” she said, handing Gavina the mug. “It’s a bit weak, but it’s hot at least.”
“Thanks, Liz.” Gavina took the broth with a grateful smile. She hadn’t eaten since the morning before, and despite her protesting belly, she had little appetite now. Nonetheless, the hot broth soothed her.
Elizabeth drew nearer, the light of a nearby cresset illuminating the tired yet resolute lines of her face. “Not long now,” she murmured.
Gavina sighed. “Aye … I wish it were dawn already. I hate to see him like this.”
A heartbeat passed before Elizabeth met her eye, a quizzical look upon her face. “Ye wed Vulcan for a purpose … but I didn’t think ye actually cared about him?”
Gavina favored her with a weak smile. “I didn’t … not initially. But things are different now.”
Elizabeth gave her a long, searching look. “Clearly.”
Together the two women waited by Draco’s bedside, watching as the sky outside lightened from indigo to pale blue. Strangely, the thunder of battle didn’t resume outdoors.
But even stranger still, Draco Vulcan didn’t wake from his fever.
XXXIV
FADING
“DO MY EYES deceive me?”
“No … they’re leaving.”
Maximus stared west, at where the huge army had packed up. It then lifted up off the cliff-top and rumbled south, the clang of iron and thunder of horses’ hooves shattering the balmy morning air. “But why?”
“I have no idea.”
Maximus tore his gaze from the retreating army, fixing his attention upon the man who stood at his side. In the bright light, Cassian looked tired—exhausted even. Maximus had never seen him appear so weary. Had the siege taken such a toll upon them all?
Maybe it had, for his body still ached this morning—a deep bone ache that cut to the marrow. He felt so weary, he could have slept for a fortnight.
His aches and exhaustion surprised him.
It’s just relief hitting me, he told himself. We’ve all been living on our nerves for too long.
“Craven bastards, look at them run!” Wallace strode up to the wall, his face creased in a fierce scowl as he glared out at the dark bulk of horses, helmets, and spears that moved away from the fortress. “They couldn’t stomach a good fight.”
Maximus frowned. He wasn’t sure that was the reason for the retreat.
Even with the ‘Battle Hammer’ destroyed, Edward still had the advantage.
“Longshanks isn’t the type to run from a fight,” Cassian spoke up then, echoing Maximus’s own thoughts. “He’ll have a reason for leaving so suddenly … and it won’t be because he’s tired of laying siege to this castle.”
The Wallace’s dark gaze swung around, pinning Cassian. “So why then?”
Cassian shrugged, his own attention returning to beyond the walls. Maximus did likewise, focusing upon the blackened ruins of the siege weapon below. “I’d wager that things have soured between Edward and Shaw,” he murmured.