Footsteps? They sounded too light, and no torchlight shone on the stairs. Clink, clink. Duncan heard a key turning in the lock, followed by the slow creak of the iron door swinging open. Perhaps the guards had returned for another attempt to beat the plans for the attack out of him, though they should know by now that it was hopeless. A few men could not be broken, and Duncan was one of them. He did not take special pride in it, but he knew it to be true nonetheless. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself to bear the pain to come. “He’s in here!” Duncan’s eyes flew open at the unexpected sound of a little girl’s high-pitched voice. It was so black in the dungeon he could not see anything. “Hush!” That was Ragnall’s voice this time. Duncan thought he must be having a waking dream, as men do when they’re beaten and kept in darkness, but then he sensed someone standing next to him.
