To dissuade Edward’s men from attacking Castle Brodie before he located the hallows, he warned, “Brodie has fifty Templars in residence, in addition to his troops, and if he indeed possesses the sacred objects, he possesses the ability to crush you before you so much as breach his gate.”

The Comyn shifted irritably. “We know that. It has thus far restrained Edward’s hand.”

“Besides,” Armand added thoughtfully, “I wonder if he truly has them. If he did, one would think he would have turned them to Scotland’s aid long ago.”

“Perhaps he is as self-serving as you and keeps them for the power they give him. Or perhaps he is devout, and believes they may only be used for God’s will.”

“It scarce matters, for I now have the means to lure him forth,” Armand replied.

The Comyn straightened abruptly and snapped his fingers. “Information. Now.”

“It will cost you,” Armand said coldly. “Dearly.”

“Edward will pay dearly if you deliver Castle Brodie and its notorious master to us. I assume you have a price in mind?”

“No less than my weight in purest gold.”

“And what do you offer us for such an extravagance?”

“Circenn recently became betrothed, to one Lisa MacRobertson, who happens to be Robert the Bruce’s cousin by blood,” Armand said. “I will deliver her into your hands. How you destroy Brodie from there is your doing.”

James Comyn’s excitement was palpable, and it translated to his mount, who nickered and paced in skittish circles. Calming him with a thin white hand, Comyn kneed the horse close to Armand’s. “Is she fair?” he demanded, his eyes glittering.

“Extraordinarily,” Armand assured him, knowing the woman would beg for death at this man’s hands, long before it was granted. “She is well curved and lush. A fiery woman, too proud for her own good.”

The Comyn rubbed his hands. “Once we have her, Brodie will follow. Edward will delight in caging and quartering another of the Bruce’s kin.”

“I will bring her to you for the gold and a title and lands in England.”

“Greedy, are we not?” James mocked.

“If I bring the sword and spear, I may ask for the crown,” Armand said, with a chilly smile.

“For the sword and the spear, I might try to help you get it,” his companion purred.

Armand raised his hand in a mock salute. “To England.”

The Comyn smiled. “To England.”

Armand rode back to Castle Brodie well pleased. He need only entice the woman outside the walls of the castle, and his new life would begin.

* * *

Lisa sighed as she rummaged through the chest. Four days had passed since they’d arrived at Castle Brodie, and her quest to find the flask had not been successful. She was beginning to despair. The man could have a thousand hiding places in a castle so large. For all she knew, he might have buried it in the dungeon—which was one place she wasn’t in a hurry to see. She now understood the expression “looking for a needle in a haystack.” Castle Brodie had two floors, with dozens of other floors in the turrets and towers that popped up at unexpected intervals, and the wings circled around not one but four enclosed courtyards. Quite simply, the castle was so large it could take her a year to search every room thoroughly. She’d tried to think like Circenn, to put herself inside his mind, but that had proved impossible; the man was an enigma to her.

He’d carefully avoided her since their arrival and had meals sent up to her room. She had seen him stomping about the outer bailey with his men. Once, he’d glanced up as she’d watched him through a window, as if he’d felt her gaze. The smile he’d given her had bared teeth and not much more. His eyes had been distant, troubled. Defiantly, she’d blown him a kiss to agitate him. It had worked. He’d pivoted in a whirl of cloak and stalked away.

Lisa rubbed her temples and returned her attention to the chest she’d been digging through. She was better off not thinking about him.

“Here ye be, lassie. I was wondering where ye’d gotten off to in this drafty old castle.”

Lisa abruptly stopped poking through the chest and turned around. Her eyes felt gritty and heavy; she’d woken to a pillow wet from tears again this morning. She dimly recalled her dream—she’d been having horrible ones for days now, and she felt bruised from them. But her nightmares had galvanized her into action. She had to find the flask.

Her hands fell to her sides. Eirren stood a few paces away, leaning against a chair and watching her, his eyes bright with amusement.