Page 114 of Dark Rival

Royce clasped her shoulder. “We will find her if she lives.”

So much despair began. “How? How will we do that when he could have her imprisoned in ten hundred, twelve hundred, fifteen hundred, or even two thousand six? The possibilities are infinite!” And she thought that maybe the only way to find her mother was to agree to a trade.

“I will never trade ye,” Royce snapped furiously.

Allie wasn’t surprised by his passionate outburst, but clearly, Aidan and Blackwood were taken aback. Blackwood said carefully, “A trade and treachery combined might give us what we want.”

“Never,” Royce said fiercely. “Ye think to offer him Ailios—an’ then we’ll follow her to Elasaid, when she’s Moffat’s prisoner? An’ then what? What if we canna free her? Nay! We wait to hear from yer spies. Then we begin our own search. We’ll follow Moffat night an’ day an’ let him lead us to Elasaid—if he has her. If she lives.”

“Ye dinna wish to be convinced,” Aidan said so softly Allie almost missed his words.

Allie turned away. Aidan was right. Royce didn’t want to believe that Moffat had her mother, and she knew why. Because the only real way to locate her was through a trade.

Royce’s plan to follow Moffat to Elasaid might take forever. And if Moffat had her mother, she was pretty sure they did not have forever.

THREE DAYS LATER, Allie wandered over the drawbridge, but didn’t go down the dirt road to the village. Green hills rolled into an eternity, framed by a blazing sun and an azure-blue sky, spotted with fluffy white clouds. Fat, woolly sheep dotted the pastures and the scene was picture-postcard perfect.

But nothing was perfect. Allie walked along the moat, head down, aware of the swans and ducks floating in the slow waters. Blackwood’s spies had not uncovered any information about a female guest or a prisoner. They continued to search each village and town under the bishop’s control.

Royce, Aidan and Blackwood had been tailing Moffat for three entire days and as many nights. Moffat had not left his lands. By night, he was at Moffat’s Hall, by day, at the Cathedral, managing affairs in his bishopric. Allie sat down on the grassy ridge, knees drawn to her chest. How ironic—the master of the Scot demons pretending to serve God.

It was an Indian summer day, surprisingly warm, and Allie had shed her long-sleeved T-shirt. She still wore her tank and mini. Now, the sun warmed her shins and knees. Nothing could warm her heart.

How much longer could they wait for some real facts? Last night, she’d dreamed of Elasaid. It had been a nightmare.

Elasaid had been scantily clad, as if in a modern nightgown, and she had been behind bars—or in a cage. Tears had stained her pale, gaunt face. Allie had woken up, determined to communicate with her, but the moment her eyes had opened, the vision had been gone. She spent hours trying to summon her mother back to her, to no avail.

She had not a single doubt that her mother was alive, in some kind of jail, and being treated terribly. This had to stop—and it had to stop now.

She sensed Royce approaching and glanced up. She hadn’t seen him since the night before, as he’d been gone by dawn. A pair of riders were cantering through the village and she instantly recognized Royce’s powerful crimson and gold aura. She focused, praying he had a found a clue to her mother’s whereabouts.

We dinna have news.

Allie hugged her knees tightly to her chest, despairing.

Royce and Blackwood galloped to a halt before the edge of the moat where she sat. Royce leapt down from the chestnut charger he rode, handing the reins to Blackwood. Allie managed to smile at their host, while Royce removed an oilskin from the back of his saddle. Blackwood nodded at her and left, trotting over the drawbridge, leading Royce’s mount.

Allie just sat there, unsmiling.

Royce strode over, his face shadowed with his version of her pain. “We dinna learn anything, Ailios. Ye must be patient now.”

She shook her head. “I have no patience left.” She refused to look at him, despair clawing at her. Royce was her hero, but this wasn’t working for her. They weren’t going to find her mother like this. Why did he have to be so damned protective? Why couldn’t he agree to a trade—even if a phony one?

“Will ye begin to hate me for doing what I think best?” he asked seriously. “Will ye hate me for protectin’ ye?”

She stared, trembling. Although he had insisted on separate rooms, not a day went by that he didn’t look at her with so much heat, she began a total meltdown. But his will was stronger than hers, and he didn’t come to her room. She knew he was guilt-ridden over taking her power, but that had been days ago. She’d been healing the villagers in the valley since the morning of their arrival, so he hadn’t hurt her at all, not really.

She knew he was afraid of caring for her—and she also knew it was too late. He was in denial. That was okay. Allie intended to focus on their relationship—after they found Elasaid.

Allie slowly stood. “We will never find my mother this way.”

He tucked the package under his arm, his face hard. “Yer way will see ye raped an’ murdered.”

“Stop reading my mind,” she cried.

“Ye keep thinking o’ trading yerself for yer mother,” he accused. “That’s insane, Ailios. Elasaid wouldn’t want ye in her place!”

“So do you finally admit that she is Moffat’s prisoner?”