The messenger ignored his confusion and continued, “He asks that ye dinnae fail him, for ye’ve but a short while tae deliver on yer promise if ye accept this task.”
Kenn spread his hands in frustration. “How do I execute a task from a dungeon?”
“Listen tae me, spy,” the messenger’s voice turning authoritative. “The only reason ye’re in his majesty’s employ is because of yer resourcefulness. Ye dinnae want me tae tell him ye’ve lost that, do ye?”
Ice filled Kenn’s veins as the man’s words hit him. “I’ll find a way.”
“The king is nae happy. He kens that most of the clans in the north have found a pact tae join the accursed uprising and kill his messengers on sight. He wants it ended.”
“How?” Kenn asked.
“By causing some confusion. ‘Tis believed ye ken who the strongest lairds are since ye’ve been working with them all along.”
“I ken.”
The messenger nodded. “Ye’re fairly useful then.” The man handed him a paper with an instruction scribbled on it. “Ensure ‘tis done.”
The man rose to leave, and Kenn called out to him. “Wait!”
The messenger stopped and turned around to face him.
“I need help breaking out of here.”
The man nodded and pulled his hood over his head. “Ye’ll get it.”
“‘Tis time tae go,” a guard came in and whispered in an urgent voice. He spared Kenn one long look before he turned back to the messenger. “Ye must hurry before the men come in here. The laird is on his way. Follow me. I’ll show ye tae the northern exit.”
The guard rushed down the long corridor, and the messenger followed. Kenn rested his back against the cold walls, his chains cold around his hands and feet. He barely had time to think about what had happened when a group of guards rushed in.
They unchained Kenn,getting to his feet, carrying him from the cell and up the stone staircase to the castle's first level. The guards dragged him through a long corridor and then through the great hall's wide doors. He was dumped in a heap on the hall floor.
When he rose, he came face to face with Laird MacThomas and a few of his men. They regarded him for a moment. The laird's scowl was instantaneous.
“Is something amiss?” Kenn demanded.
“If ye value yer life, ye willnae speak unless ye're spoken tae.”
Somethingwasamiss. He'd seen a look of worry cross the laird's eyes. It was gone before he could blink. But he hadn’t mistaken it.
“I'd think my life valuable enough tae ye if ye brought me up here.”
The laird stamped his foot for emphasis. A low murmur stirred, and MacThomas stiffened and then turned to stare at him. “Silence!” he yelled, and there was an immediate hush around. Guards placed their hands on their sword sheaths as they all looked at Kenn with disbelief. “What did ye say?”
Kenn raised his chin, refusing to back down even if his knees were trembling.
His heart began to race as he tried to think of a way out of this situation without getting further into trouble. He wanted to warn them not to do anything that would enrage Laird Robertson—they were well aware of what had happened to the Macduffs.
“I said I think I'm valuable enough for ye tae seek my consort now.”
“Is that so?” the laird said with a wry grin. “I'd like ye tae know I only need tae spare yer life. But I can still cause ye an immeasurable amount of pain.”
He nodded to one of his warriors, who stepped forward and smacked Kenn's temple with the hilt of his sword. He collapsed to the floor in agony, wheezing loudly. As he struggled to his feet, the group burst out laughing.
“Still have something tae say?”
This time, he remained silent, knowing he could spare himself some unneeded pain if he paid them respect. “Nay,” he whispered.
The laird nodded. “Tell me then. What’s so important that ye would break into my room on a night I entertained ye as a guest? Ye have all our attention now. Dinnae be timid.”