Hurrying Iliana down the steps, Duncan mounted his horse, then bent and tugged her up before him, barely waiting the moment it took for Angus and Johnny-Boy to mount before turning his beast and heading out of the bailey. Once through the gates, Duncan slowed, allowing Johnny-Boy to take the lead.

Johnny had not been exaggerating when he said Lady Wildwood had collapsed as soon as she had reached Dunbar land. The clearing the man led them to was on the edge of the Dunbar border, a good hour’s ride from the keep.

Duncan barely managed to draw his mount to a halt before Iliana slid out from beneath his arms and dropped to the ground. She rushed across the clearing to the side of a haggard old woman who was obviously her mother’s maid before Duncan could finish dismounting.

Her gasp of dismay told him more than anything that her mother was in a frighteningly bad way. Sharing a grim glance with his father, Duncan moved to stand behind Iliana, his own face paling as he took in the state of the woman lying on the ground.

That she was weak and feverish was obvious—they had been warned of that—but it was the state of her face that had shocked Iliana and now had the same effect on Duncan. Greenweld had not satisfied himself with breaking her body; he had taken his fists to her face as well. The woman’s lip was split, her nose swollen and most like broken, and she bore two black eyes that a raccoon would have been proud of. He cringed to think how she must have looked before setting out on the long journey from Wildwood.

“The bastard,” Angus hissed, pausing beside Duncan.

“Oh, mama,” Iliana moaned, reaching a hand toward the battered face, then drawing it back uncertainly for fear of hurting her.

Lady Wildwood stirred at the words from her daughter and struggled to open her eyes, but they were too swollen to see through. When she opened her mouth to speak, only a dry croak came out.

“Shh,” Iliana murmured, taking the nearest hand. It appeared to be the only place on the woman that was not bruised, cut, or swollen. “’Tis Iliana, Mother. I am here. We are going to take you to Dunbar. You will be safe there,” she assured her, then glanced toward the hag. Gertie had been with the Wildwoods since Iliana’s grandmother’s day and had always been maid to the mistress of the castle, and her wisdom and ability to heal were reknowned. If anyone could repair the damage done to Iliana’s mother, it was this woman.

Spying the question in her face, the old woman patted her shoulder. “I have given her something for the fever and pain. She needs rest now.”

Nodding, Iliana turned to glance over her shoulder at the wagon rolling into the clearing.