Free Highland Sacrifice (Highland Wars Book 2) by Eliza Knight Page A

would see fit, and the ones he punished were grateful. Unless I was being watched by one of his followers, I could get away with it. There are many, you will find, that did the same.”
    “Then there is hope after all,” Macrath said gruffly.
    Ceana held her smile in check, feeling blessed by the gods once more. The royal council was going to burn in the flames of her revenge.
    “That is all there is,” Marrec said. “Hope.”
    “Not with all,” Ceana said. “Some have lost all hope.”
    “Then you must give it back to them,” Marrec said, and then gasped. “Apologies for overstepping my bounds, my lady, my laird. Please, your majesties, I did nay—”
    Macrath held up his hand, cutting Marrec off. “There is no need to grovel, for we took no exception to your words. They are merited. ’Tis our desire to restore Sìtheil and its people to greatness and beyond.”
    Marrec’s shoulders sagged with relief, but he quickly straightened. “The people will see you as their saviors.”
    “We strive only to be good leaders, not compared to gods.” Ceana recalled how in the games, there were victims and saviors. She hated the two distinctions. They were all people and everyone with a good heart should be given a chance to survive.
    “As is your pleasure,” Marrec said.
    “Please, show us to my brother,” Macrath said.
    Without another word, Marrec slid past them and continued down the stairwell and into the great hall.
    Victor leaned on his elbow against the hearth, looking more casual than he should. There was an air of superiority about him, as though he felt he belonged there. Ceana immediately bristled.
    He did not wait to be addressed by Macrath, but instead swaggered toward them with a haughty smile and said, “Brother, I’ve come to relieve you.”
    Macrath stiffened beside Ceana. The muscles of his arm, beneath her fingertips, rippled with tension.
    “Relieve me of what?” Macrath said.
    “Why, your post, of course.” Victor’s grin grew, reminding her of the wolves in the forest. Her most intense fear.
    Ceana’s stomach tightened as she anticipated a violent reaction from Macrath. She imagined them ripping each other to shreds.
    Macrath put his hand to his sword at his hip, his entire body stiffening. He towered over his half-brother. “I do not hold a post, but a title. A title far superior to yours, Victor. You’ll not be relieving me of anything save your company.”
    Victor laughed and waved away the words, not at all moved by Macrath’s obvious anger. “You are too naïve, brother. Did you truly believe they would let you become a prince? A bastard born and raised, now a member of the royal line?” He made a tsking sound and rolled his eyes. “What dreams have they fed you?”
    “Get. Out.” Macrath spoke through bared teeth, his knuckles white, he clenched the hilt of his sword so tight.
    Ceana felt her blood drain to somewhere around her feet. Could what Victor said be true?
    “Let me save you the embarrassment of having the king’s guards forcibly remove you,” Victor continued, without any reaction to Macrath’s orders to leave. “They are coming for you. Sìtheil is mine.”

 
    Chapter Seven
     
     
    BEATRICE MacAlpin sneaked through the corridors like a wraith set on retribution until she came to her bedchamber, and then through the secret panel into the undisclosed space housed there.
    Breathing rapidly, heart pounding, she struggled to get her torch into the iron holder bolted to the wall, cursing as sparks hit her skin. She let out an outraged yelp and gave a final thrust, securing it.
    Fisting her hands, another tortured cry flew from her lips.
    She ripped at her clothes until she stood naked, chest heaving with her pent-up anger. Whirling in a circle, she searched for something sharp. Something that would cut deep into her skin and release the anger, discharge the pain and return some sense of control to her rampant mind.
    Chains and shackles hung from hooks along the