Here's the next chapter! Hope you all like it! Thanks to Synchronized Harmony for the review, and yes, I did incorporate my sister's and I pen name into the story. ;)

Well my readers, I hope you review! I haven't been recieving that many reviews lately, so please, please, PLEASE leave me a review! :D I would be ever so happy if you did!

Okay, so, here's the next chapter, and I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for reading!

-Shire from CollieandShire

Chapter twelve

Shadowed

"We should like to visit London today." Ilene announced at the breakfast table the next morning. Dinner the night before had been uneventful, as the girls ended up answering questions about Scotland and how everything was fairing there. After dinner, they had gone off to bed, and had slept without waking until eight in the morning, much later than they were used to sleeping. Now they sat back in the dining room, enjoying a breakfast of ham, eggs and tea.

"Would you like me or Elizabeth to escort you?" Lord Michael offered. "We can show you the historical sites."

"Thank ye for the offer, but, no. We can manage." Merida said quickly, before Ilene had a chance to accept. Ilene gave her an annoyed look, which she avoided. She'd explain her reasons later.

"Very well then. I'll have the stable boys saddle up your horses." Elizabeth said, taking a sip of her tea.

It wasn't until they'd bid goodbye to their hosts and were out of hearing range that Ilene turned and glared at Merida.

"Aye, what was that for? They were only tryin' to be friendly, the least we can do is be nice to 'em!" Ilene complained.

Merida sighed, and asked Angus into a trot, Ilene following suite and cuing Mystery into a trot. "Ilene, ye yerself were talkin' yesterday about how you weren't sure what to think of Lord Michael. Well, last night I was lyin' in bed, when I heard someone outside. I went to the window and looked out, and there was Lord Michael, mounting up on his horse and riding off into the night. Now isn't that the slightest bit suspicious?"

Ilene looked down. "Well, I suppose ye had yer reasons. But personally I want to be on their good side, if yah know what I mean."

"No, I don't know what ye mean." Merida retorted. "Do ye mean ye want 'em to accept yah? Do ye mean yah want them to think of you as 'one of them'? To treat you right? Because if that's what ye mean, Ilene, yer tryin' to gain their approval by pleasing them. Yer tryin' to make them think of ye better than a Scotsman's child, their adversary's daughter. That will never work, Ilene. Once ye start tryin' to please people, they'll use that to their advantage and treat ye like dirt. Ye can't please men, Ilene. You just-can't."

Merida could see Ilene was distressed, and didn't say anymore.

"I don't want to be a man-pleaser Merida." She said at last. "But I want to be accepted. If I'm going to live here, I don't want to be treated as an outsider."

Merida's heart skipped a beat. So she was considering staying. She'd hoped Ilene would see that the English didn't take too kind to Scottish folk, and that she'd come home with her, back to Scotland. For the first time Merida had to look at the fact that Ilene might stay forever, content to live in the land of her ancestors. She hoped she wouldn't, she prayed she wouldn't, but she had to consider it as a possibility. Oh Ilene, how would I ever get along without you? Merida wondered.

When the girls reached town, word must have spread around that the daughters of King Fergus DunBroch were visiting, for several marketers and passerbys stopped what they were doing to stare at the girls, pointing and whispering.

"News travels fast." Ilene muttered.

"Aye." Was all Merida said.

In the hustle and bustle of London, the girls failed to notice a man looking over some vegetables, who deliberately averted his eyes away from their direction until they'd passed by. He then glanced up, the hood of his cloak partially covering his face. He was a fairly tall man, and had dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. Strapped to his belt was a long and wicked sword, the handle crafted with pearl and silver. It had been a gift from a friend, and he treasured it with his life.

The vegetable stand owner glanced up at his customer, slightly disturbed by the quiet demeanor of the man. It was almost as if darkness and evil was emitting from him, and the look in his eyes was enough to make him shudder.

"Find anything to your liking, sir?" the marketer asked.

The stranger shot him a glare, and the marketer avoided the cold look.

"This will do fine." The stranger said at last, throwing down some money and grabbing a head of lettuce. He turned and left the stand, slipping in and out of the crowds as he headed in the direction of the two princesses.

He dropped the cabbage into a trash bin, and kept an eye on his quarry. It was obvious the girls weren't used to the rush of the city, and he grinned to himself. This would be easy. He fingered his sword, and the grin grew wider at the feel of his beloved weapon. He had always preferred a sword over any other weapon, and in the hand of a man who's aim was deadly accurate, he was downright dangerous.

He glanced at the redhead girl, noting the bow slung over her shoulder, and the quiver of arrows that hung there too. Archer. He thought with some distaste. He never liked bows, they were below him.

The blond girl, on the other hand, was the one he was more interested in. She had a sword strapped to her waist, nothing special, just a regular Scotsman's sword. He smiled to himself. Following in the footsteps of her father, she is. Her father. The stranger growled to himself, slipping into an alleyway as the blond girl glanced back. The last thing he needed was her to remember who he was.

Oh, how he'd hated her father. He'd hated the whole entire village, the whole clan, and one by one he'd repaid them for their deeds. Timofey was the one who had evaded him the longest, but when he had caught up with him, he ended the hundred and seventy year long feud and had liven up to the promise he'd made to his own father on his deathbed. That was until he found out that Timofey and Natasha had had a daughter. For years he traveled, roaming all over Europe in search of the last child from the line of Dmitri Petrov. And in the twelve years he searched, he grew angrier and angrier at Timofey. Even though he'd slew him, he'd almost wished he hadn't so he could see his face when he'd found the man's beloved daughter and had finished off the last of the Petrovs. How his father would have been proud of him, achieving what no one else in the line of Ivan Kolinsky had ever been able to achieve. How his grandfather, great grandfather, his great great grandfather and his great great great grandfather would have congratulated him for ending what their great great great grandfather Ivan Kolinsky had started. That is way too many greats to keep track of. He thought in annoyance, popping out from the alleyway as he spied the girls continuing on. No one paid him any heed as he slipped back into the street and continued to follow the young ladies, his hand on his sword the entire time. It was hard for him not to get excited as he watched the blond girl, barely out of his reach. He would make his father proud. He would make his grandfather, and great grandfather, and great great oh forget it! He spat. Enough with the ancestors. The dead belong in the past, and I must tend to the future.

And the future was doing a fabulous job of staying just out of his reach. If only she'd get off that horse.

He steadied himself, took a deep breath, and exhaled. You've waited twelve years for this moment, you can wait another thirty minutes. He thought. He would have to wait, if he was going to play this out exactly how he'd envisioned it every night, over and over again.

"Merida." Ilene said quietly as they continued to ride their horses down the cobble streets of London. "Where are we goin'?"

"To find the Scotsman we met with yesterday." Merida murmured. "I have a couple of questions to ask him about Lord Michael of York."

"Merida."

"Oh, what is it Ilene?" Merida snapped, than quickly reproached herself. "Sorry Ilene, it's just that I'm tryin' so hard to find him, and I feel so-hopeless." She gestured around to the crowds. "There are just so many people here! I don't know how we're ever going to find him again."

She sighed, than glanced at Ilene. "What is it that you wanted to say?"

Ilene jerked her thumb behind her. "I think we're bein' followed, Merida." Merida began to turn around to look back, but Ilene put up a warning hand. "Don't look back. If we are being followed, we'd best not show it."

"Do you think it's Lord Michael?" Merida asked as she asked Angus to move on again.

"No. He doesn't move like him." Ilene replied, doing here best not to look back. "Whoever it is doesn't want us to see them, and either is following us or someone behind us." Merida couldn't stand it anymore; she reined Angus in and turned him around to face the crowds behind her. "Merida!" Ilene scolded.

Merida ignored her and scanned the crowds, only catching a couple of strange stares here and there. "Ilene, I don't see anyone." She said at last.

Ilene chanced a peak and looked back. "I don't see him anymore either." She admitted. "No wait!" Ilene pointed towards a figure wearing a dark brown cloak, keeping his face hidden from view. "That's him!" Ilene said excitedly.

Merida's heart began to race as she wondered who this stranger could be, and why he was following them. She'd heard of infamous pick-pockets, and wondered if this dark figure was one of them.

Suddenly, the shadow lifted their hood, and Ilene gasped, as did Merida. "Ilene!" Merida groaned.

It was an old woman.

"Whoops." Ilene said sheepishly.

Merida rolled her eyes and turned Angus back in the direction they were headed. "No wonder our shadow didn't walk like Lord Michael, she's not even a he!"

"I'm sorry Merida, I thought for sure I saw someone following us." Ilene said apologetically.

Merida sighed, and grinned at Ilene. "That's fine. I'm a little jumpy too."

They turned down the next street, and Merida reined Angus in once more. "Look!" she pointed. "There's the Scotsman we talked to yesterday!"

Ilene strained her head to look, and her eyes lit up with recognition. "Yer right, there he is!"

"Come on, let's go talk to him."

The cloaked stranger peeked around the corner to see the girls had continued on, and shook his head, amazed that they hadn't seen him. That was too close. Another encounter like that and he might be seen. This time though, he'd been lucky. Stealth has never been one of my strong points. He grumbled. He waited until the girls had gotten around the corner, and he continued after them. When he too, rounded the corner, his heart skipped a beat as he saw the girls dismount of the horses. This is it!

He slipped by some people and hid behind some Jewish rabbis, who were all speaking in Yiddish. They took no notice to him, and the girls didn't seem to see him.

They were talking to the old Scotsman, who had paused from his marketing and was listening to them intently. The redhead was very animated as she flung her arms around to make her point, and the Scotsman nodded as he listened. The blond girl had her back turned to him, and didn't seem to be paying that much attention.

Now the question was, how was he going to get close enough to grab her? He frowned, and drew his sword partially, glancing at it. He could jab her in the back and threaten to kill her if she didn't walk with him, but that would draw too much attention.

Suddenly, the redhead and the old Scotsman walked away from the Scotsman's wares, and the Scotsman signaled the blond one to stay there and watch his stand. She complied, and moved behind it, sitting down in his chair.

His heart pounded as he watched the redhead and the Scotsman go around the corner, on their way to go talk to someone. This was it. This was his golden opportunity.

He slid through the crowds, trying to come in behind the blond girl so he could take her by surprise. She continued to sit there, staring up at the sky, not paying attention to anything.

The cloaked man curled his fingers around the sword as he came closer, his heart beating faster as his moment to shine lay just out of reach. When suddenly, the girl looked away from the sky-and her eyes laid to rest on him.

Ilene's heart stopped as she stared at the man ten feet away from her, his hand curled around the pearl handle of a wicked looking sword. He stared back at her from underneath the hood of his cloak, his sharp blue eyes boring into hers. And she knew it was him.

"Ah, there you are Ian!" the Scotsman called out to a short bearded redhead man. "I have a lass with me here who wants to ask ye a couple questions about Lord Michael of York."

Merida opened her mouth to greet Ian, when they all heard it. A terrible scream that sent chills down their back. And the worst part was that Merida knew that scream anywhere. Ilene.

OH NO! What's going on here? Who is this stranger, and why is he after Ilene, and how does Ilene know him!? Guess you'll just have to find out in the next chapter. :D So please review, I'd really appreciate it! See you all one review later!

-Shire