The prisoner had scars across his bare chest and a slash on his side that had dried into a dark line of blood. Despite the frigid weather, he held his head even, staring out as he walked at sword point into the bailey. Just the sight of his bare skin made a shiver run through Joshua. Fok. Too cold for that. The brutal torture warred against Joshua’s determination to put this frozen isle behind him, and he watched Lord Robert turn a vicious smile on the prisoner as he halted by the central well.

“Ah,” Robert said, his words carrying to Joshua on the wind that never ceased to blow across treeless Orkney. “King Erik Flett, naked and near frozen.” Lord Robert and Patrick had already forgotten about Joshua leaving as they grinned at their prize, who was stripped of absolutely everything. Robert nearly strutted as he followed the prisoner into the castle with his sons and hired brute.

Joshua narrowed his eyes at the man who had employed him to make his men clever, strong, and fast. I should have killed him and his sons. The isle would be better for it. But Robert Stuart was the recognized son of the dead King James V of Scotland. Killing him and his family would surely bring royal armies to his clan, the Sinclairs of Caithness, on the mainland.

At least the prisoner was no longer out of doors. God, grant the man a quick and honorable death. Joshua turned back to face the land that sloped upward away from the castle perched before the frigid Birsay Bay, which led to the open sea.

His horse slid easily into a canter with a touch of Joshua’s heels. As soon as they reached the top of the rise, he pulled him to a halt. There wasn’t a single tree on Orkney to stand behind, but he was far enough away that no one would see him reveal himself as fully human. He reached into his leather satchel and yanked out a thick tunic, a fur to throw over his shoulders, and a wool blanket to wrap across his lap and Fuil’s back.

He patted his horse. “I will keep us both warm.” Fuil’s ears turned, listening.