Highlander’s Frozen Heart by Shona Thompson

Chapter Thirty-Two

“Adelleine!” called Magnus, getting there just in time to see her push Caton to his death.

Adelleine looked out of the window. Caton was there, lying on the ground, his limbs shattered and awkwardly bent. His men were also there, dead, and from the little light that the torches on the tower’s walls provided, she could see that there was blood everywhere.

She didn’t even hear Magnus call her name, at least not the first time, but she knew it must have been him and his men who had killed Caton’s small army.

“Adelleine, ye saved Fergus,” Magnus said, and it was then that Adelleine heard him, turning around to see him there, holding Fergus tightly in his arms. He was drenched in blood and sweat, his breath shallow from having run up the stairs of the tower to save the three of them before Adelleine had beaten him to it. “Ye saved him . . . ye saved me lad.”

“Aye, aye, she did,” Isla said, as she fussed over Fergus, ensuring that he was alright and that Caton hadn’t managed to nick him with his sword. Then she ran to Adelleine, throwing her arms around her and pulling her into a tight embrace. “Och, Adelleine . . . ye saved both of us! How can I ever thank ye?”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Adelleine assured her, and though she wrapped her own arms around Isla, she couldn’t help but keep looking back out of the window, knowing that Caton was right there. “I . . . I killed him,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, “I killed him, Isla. I killed a man.”

“Aye, ye did,” Isla said with a nod that was more enthusiastic than Adelleine would have liked.

Adelleine extricated herself from Isla’s arms, and she walked over to the window once more, looking down at the pile of bodies in front of the door. She could hardly believe what she had done, and though she was glad that Caton couldn’t harm anyone anymore, she couldn’t help but feel some sort of strange emptiness inside her, some guilt that didn’t seem to be in line with her feelings for Caton.

“Adelleine . . .”

This time, Adelleine turned to look at Magnus, who was standing right there, behind her. She didn’t move when he placed a hand on her shoulder, but she still felt the need to look out of the window once more.

She wasn’t certain whether she wanted to reassure herself that Caton was dead or to hope that she hadn’t just killed someone.

“Adelleine, I ken that it must be difficult for ye, but there’s somethin’ that ye must ken,” Magnus said, “It’s Fin.”

It was that which snapped Adelleine out of her trance, and she looked at Magnus with wide, fearful eyes. “Fin?” she asked, “Where is he? Is something wrong?”

“Aye,” Magnus said, “I’ll take ye to him if ye wish to see him, but I must warn ye that it isnae a bonnie sight. He . . . Caton, he hurt him verra much. He doesnae even look like himself anymore.”

Adelleine was stunned speechless, her mouth hanging slightly open as she tried to remember how to breathe. Her mind conjured the worst scenarios, providing her with images of Fin, beaten and bruised and at the brink of death, and no matter how much she tried to push those thoughts out of her mind, it seemed impossible.

“I . . . can you take me to him, please?” she asked Magnus, her hand coming up to grip his arm, fearing that she would topple over at any moment, “I’d like to see him.”

“Aye, of course,” Magnus said, and began to lead her to the door, but before they could leave, Isla rushed behind them, Fergus in her arms.

“What about the battle?” she asked Magnus, “I can still hear them fightin’.”

“Aye, but it’s almost over,” Magnus assured Isla, “Ye have nae a thing to fear as long as ye stay in the castle. We have all but defeated the MacForfin clan, it’s but a matter of time for the last of their clansmen to either flee or die.”

By the time they made it down the stairs and out of the tower, Adelleine still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that she had taken a life, even if that life belonged to someone like the baron. When she saw his corpse, she felt the bile rise up in her throat, her stomach threatening to spill its contents on the ground.

Magnus must have noticed her distress, Adelleine thought, as he wrapped an arm around her, holding her upright and quickly leading her away from the sight of the massacre, but it was still too late.

Adelleine had seen all those bodies up close. She had seen their eyes, glazed over, dead, unresponsive, and she would never get that image out of her mind.

She glanced at Fergus and was relieved to see that Isla had shielded him from that sight, keeping his head down against her shoulder. She didn’t want him to see such a thing when he was still so young; he had already gone through more than any child should.

Just as they were about to enter the main part of the castle, Magnus stopped and turned to look at his sister, his face a mask of worry. “Isla . . . I think ye’d better take Fergus to his chambers,” he told her, “I’ll send a guard with ye, but it’s nae a sight for a bairn.”

Isla nodded, and she and Fergus made their way up the stairs immediately, Isla once again shielding Fergus’ eyes, so that he wouldn’t see the injured soldiers that lined the walls of the castle. Adelleine could hardly take her eyes off them, though, and she found herself staring, tears quickly filling up her eyes.

There was so much blood, more than Adelleine had seen in her life, and she couldn’t help but wonder just how many of those men would make it out alive.

“This way,” Magnus said, as he led her to another room, one that was empty, save for a man and two maids that were tending to him. For a moment, Adelleine frowned, confused as to why Magnus had taken her there, but then she recognised the man that they had laid on the table.

It was Fin, only he looked nothing like Fin.

“We had to bring him here because we didnae want the other men to see him,” Magnus said, speaking in a soft, quiet voice, “I’m sure ye ken why.”

Adelleine did. She couldn’t imagine what those soldiers would think, how horrified they would be if they saw Fin in that state.

“Is he . . . is he alive?” she asked.

“Aye,” Magnus assured her, “But he’s nae doin’ weel, lass.”

“Is he awake?”

“I’m nae certain,” Magnus said, “But ye can try to speak to him if ye wish. It might help him to hear a familiar voice.”

Adelleine wished that Jacob was there. Jacob always knew what to do, he always had the solution to everything, but he was long gone, and it seemed to her that Fin was heading towards the same direction. Drawing a deep breath in, Adelleine let go of Magnus, her grip on his arm relaxing enough to allow herself to move away from him, walking slowly towards Fin and taking his hand in hers.

Fin replied with a pained moan, his hand limp and cold against hers.

“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” Adelleine mumbled, “I don’t know what to say to him.”

“Whatever ye want, lass,” one of the maids told her, giving her a look with such pity that it made Adelleine’s stomach churn. She didn’t want anyone to pity her, because that meant that Fin was about to die. “I’m sure that he’d be happy to ken that someone is here, by his side.”

It was the least that she could do, Adelleine thought, after all the help that Fin had given them; help that had left him in that state. Suddenly, after seeing what Caton had done to him, she couldn’t bring herself to care that she had shoved him to his death anymore.

Caton deserved worse than what she had done to him.

“Fin,” Adelleine said softly, “Fin, can you hear me?”

There was no reply from him, but he was still awake, if his quiet moaning was any indication. Adelleine wondered whether anything that she could say would even make any difference, but perhaps her company would be enough. Perhaps the maid had been right, and she simply needed to be there for him.

“I want you to know that Caton is dead,” she told him, “He’s gone . . . he can never hurt anyone again. And you . . . oh, Fin, you’ve done so much for me, and for Magnus and the clan. I don’t even know how I will ever repay you. You’ve been nothing short of an angel.”

Adelleine could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks, and it soon became difficult to say anything, her throat closing up as she tried to suppress a sob. She tried to be strong, she truly did; she wanted to be there for Fin, to stay by his side, but she simply couldn’t say anything else to him.

Instead, she stood next to the table, her hand holding tightly onto his for what seemed like hours to her. Magnus waited patiently with her, standing a little to the side, only leaving when he felt the need to check up on his men, and placing a hand on Adelleine’s shoulder every time that he returned, ensuring that she was still alright.

Eventually, the sound of the battle faded, though Adelleine didn’t notice the passage of time until the room was flooded with daylight. She had stayed there all night, by Fin’s side, and though he hadn’t stirred once, Adelleine knew that he was still alive.

She knew, because she checked every few minutes, searching for his pulse.

“Adelleine,” Magnus said, and she flinched, as no one had spoken to her all night, “Perhaps ye should go and rest, lass. Fin survived the night, and the healer told me that’s the most important thing. Noo that he survived, the healer thinks he’ll be on his way to a full recovery.”

Adelleine breathed in deep, the first unhindered breath that she had had all night. Relief washed over her, and before she knew it, she had fallen into Magnus’ arms, sobbing like a child.

Fin would make it, she told herself. He would make it, and she wouldn’t have to mourn for him like she did for her brother.

“Are you certain?” she asked Magnus, “Is the healer certain?”

“Weel . . . nay, he’s nae certain,” Magnus admitted, “But he said that it’s the first step. Fin is a young lad, Adelleine. He’s strong, he’s spry. He survived the first night, and I’m sure that he’ll recover. But ye should eat and rest. Ye look pale.”

Eating and resting were the last things in Adelleine’s mind, though she would like to have a seat, suddenly realising just how much her legs and feet ached after a night of standing. What she wanted to do first, though, was see Fergus and Isla.

“Where’s Fergus?” she asked Magnus, “And Isla? I’d like to see them before I do anything else. Are they alright?”

“They are just fine,” Magnus assured her, “And they’re fine because of ye. They’re fine because ye saved them.”

Adelleine didn’t know what to say to that. To her, there was no other option than saving them, simply because she couldn’t imagine losing either of them.

“Do ye wish for me to take ye to them?” Magnus asked, and Adelleine replied with a nod.

They found them in Fergus’ chambers, wide awake but still in bed. Adelleine couldn’t blame either of them; the previous night had been rough on everyone, and the bed looked more inviting than she would like to admit.

“Adelleine!” Fergus exclaimed when he saw her, jumping up and standing on the mattress, despite Isla’s concerns that he would fall and her insistence that he sit down immediately. Adelleine ran to him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug, wishing that she could hold him forever.

In her arms, he was safe.

“How are you, my love?” Adelleine asked him, pressing a soft kiss on the top of his head.

Fergus gave her a small shrug, and Adelleine settled onto the bed, holding him in her lap. She glanced at Magnus, who was watching them with a small smile on his lips, and she couldn’t help but smile, too.

“Adelleine . . . can someone have two mamaidhs?” Fergus asked her, and Adelleine frowned at the question.

“Well . . . I suppose so,” she said, “See, if your papa marries another woman, then she’ll be your mother, but your mother, Caitriona, will always be your mother, won’t she?”

“Aye,” Fergus said with a satisfied nod, “Then, if I can have two mamaidhs, can ye be me second one?”

Adelleine’s eyes widened at that question, and when she looked at Magnus, he seemed to be just as surprised as she was. She watched as Magnus turned his gaze to Isla, but she simply shrugged, raising her hands.

“Dinnae look at me,” she said, “I didnae have anythin’ to do with this.”

“I suppose that solves one of our problems,” Magnus said with a soft laugh, and Adelleine couldn’t help but join him. Once she had started laughing, though, she simply couldn’t stop. She laughed and laughed, falling backwards until her back hit the mattress, and then continued to laugh some more.

She was simply so relieved, so happy that everyone she loved was unharmed. She could hardly believe it, and though Fin was still in a critical condition, Magnus’ reassurances had left her feeling better about the entire ordeal.

“Are ye alright, lass?” Isla asked, a small, curious smile on her lips, “What are ye laughin’ about?”

“I don’t know!” Adelleine said.

Fergus, insistent as always, though, climbed on top of her, sitting straight onto her abdomen and demanding an answer. “Adelleine! Will ye be me mamaidh?”

“Yes, my love,” Adelleine said, as she pinched one of Fergus’ rosy cheeks, “Nothing would make me happier.”

“Then ye and Dadaidh must get married!” Fergus announced. Magnus approached them, and then took Fergus into his arms, holding him against his hip. “Will ye get married, Dadaidh?”

“I dinnae ken what ye think, Adelleine, but somethin’ tells me that I cannae tell Fergus nay,” Magnus said, “So . . . will ye be me wife?”

Before Adelleine could say anything, a pillow flew straight at Magnus’ head, leaving both of them flabbergasted.

“Are ye serious?” Isla shrieked, “Is that how ye’ll ask her to marry ye?”