Chapter 31
Thalia, Ava, and Emma ran to their uncle’s side.
Ava got there first. She knelt and lifted Archibald’s head gently before resting it in her lap. Thalia tore a strip from her skirt to press firmly against the wound. Emma sat beside them, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Archibald’s skin shone with sweat, and his breath was coming fast. Thalia blinked back tears as she tried to focus on the matter at hand. The gash did not look too deep, but there was so much blood that she couldn’t be sure. Her uncle’s face was growing paler by the second.
She glanced at the fight happening behind her, spotting Finlay and Caden parrying with a few of the enemy guards. She scanned the faces of the other men, but she did not see where Harrison had gone. Shaking her head, she turned back to the task at hand.
“We need to stop the bleeding. Quickly,” she said.
“Ye’ll need hedge woundwort,” Olivia advised, coming forward with more cloth and a leather flask. She sat beside Thalia, pressing the mouth of the flask to Archibald’s lips. “This will help with the pain.”
He drank the liquid, coughing as he swallowed it.
“This is brandy,” he complained.
“Aye,” Olivia said. “It’s to dull yer senses before I do this.”
Without waiting for him to ask what she meant, she removed the blood-soaked fabric that Thalia had pressed against the wound and poured the remainder of the brandy across the cut.
Archibald gasped, grunting in pain as she quickly covered the wound again with the cloth she had brought.
“I’ve seen a lot of battle wounds in me time,” she told Thalia. “He should be fine, but we’ll need woundwort. Fetch it for me, will ye? It’s in the kitchens.”
“Aye, Ma.” Thalia stared at her mother, feeling prouder than ever at that moment.
Olivia looked up, meeting her eyes. “What are ye gawkin’ at? Get a move on!”
Thalia chuckled, getting to her feet and making a run back to the castle.
The fighting continued, and she saw Finlay again, with two presumably dead guards by his feet. Worry spiked in her heart, but she knew she needed to focus on her uncle first. She kept her distance from the slashing swords, moving around the edges as she made her way back into the castle.
The halls were mercifully empty, either because everyone had made a run for it or because they were all too busy fighting outside. Either way, it helped her to move faster. She followed the route she remembered from childhood back to the kitchens.
She yanked open the cabinet doors and rummaged for her mother’s herbs.
Inside lay three shelves, laden with plants and flowers placed inside glass jars.
Thalia scanned the jars, grabbing one that contained wide dried leaves.
She opened the lid and sniffed its contents.
The stench made her gag. It was reminiscent of mouse urine, and she knew she had found the right one.
“There ye are.”
Thalia whirled, nearly dropping the jar in her shock.
Harrison stood in the doorway, blocking it.
He had a gash across his forehead, coating the right half of his face in blood.
His tartan was torn, hanging limply across his shoulders, and his sword was either gone or lost since he did not have it.
His chapped lips pulled back into a snarl as he stepped towards her.
Thalia held the jar closer to her chest, moving away from him as he walked forward. He blocked the only exit, and there was nowhere else to go as she backed into the counter. He grinned, knowing that he had her trapped.
“Did ye think ye could get away so easily? After all the effort I made to get here?” His voice was low, dangerously so.
“Help!” Thalia shrieked in vain. “Someone help me!”
Harrison laughed. “Nay one is comin’ for ye, lass. I have waited years for this, and finally I will make ye mine.”
Thalia shook her head, voice cracking as she tried again, “Please! Someone help! Please—”
Harrison curled his large hand around her throat, cutting off her scream. She dropped the jar, the glass shattering on the wooden floor. She choked, scratching at his hand as his fingers tightened around her windpipe.
“Let her go!”
He turned, taking Thalia with him as his hand remained around her throat. Finlay stood in the doorway, panting heavily as he looked between the two of them. Thalia was glad to see him looking mostly unscathed. He appeared to have a few cuts across his arms, but otherwise, he was unharmed.
He raised his sword, angling it towards Harrison as he took a cautious step forward. “Ye will let her go,” he hissed.
“Nay, I daenae think I will.”
With his free hand, Harrison reached behind his back and pulled a dagger. He adjusted his grip on Thalia, pulling her to him so that her back was pressed against his chest, and replaced his hand with the blade.
Finlay’s nostrils flared. “Ye would kill her after everythin’ ye’ve done to have her?”
“If I cannae have her, nay one can!” Harrison cried.
Finlay ground his teeth. He looked at Thalia again, his eyes flashing as he took in her appearance. With reluctance, he lowered his sword, dropping it to the ground.
Harrison nodded toward the weapon. “Kick it over here.”
Finlay kicked the sword away from him towards where Harrison stood. Harrison chuckled, and Thalia felt his hot breath against her cheek. She grimaced.
“I’m goin’ to walk out with her,” he continued. “And we shall be married. And there is nothing anyone can do to stop me.”
He sounded almost giddy, drunk on the thrill and perhaps slightly delirious from his head wound. He began walking, dragging Thalia along with him as he kept the blade pressed against her throat. Finlay watched them, his eyes dark with hatred as they drew closer to him.
Harrison laughed, and the action made his grip on Thalia loosen for just a moment. Without a second of hesitation, she brought her arm up and slammed it back into his stomach. He groaned, bending over from the pain, and as he did, the blade slashed across her clavicle.
Finlay moved as soon as she did. He grabbed his weapon, and Thalia moved out of the way quickly enough for him to drive his sword through Harrison’s back.
Thalia gasped, covering her mouth as she stared at the bloody point sticking out of his chest. Harrison gurgled, a sickening choking gasp, and then he crumpled to the floor, dead.
Finlay removed his blade, wiping off the blood with the dead man’s plaid, and then turned his gaze to Thalia. They moved at once, embracing each other with immense desperation.
“Ye came for me,” Thalia gasped, her voice cracking with unshed tears. “Ye really came for me.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Finlay murmured. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in deeply. “Ah, lass. Ye still smell like lavender.”
Thalia laughed as tears began streaming down her cheeks. They pulled back, and Finlay’s eyes were instantly drawn to her wound.
“Ye’re hurt,” he said, his eyes wide with concern.
Thalia shook her head. “Nay, it’s only a scratch.” She turned back to the herbs she had dropped to the floor. “Me uncle! He needs this!”
She ran over to the cabinet again, breathing a sigh of relief when she realized that there was another jar of hedge woundwort behind where the previous one had been.
When she had managed to gather what she felt she needed, she whirled back towards Finlay. Cradling the jar in her arms, she said, “I’ve got to—”
“I ken,” he said, jerking his head toward the door. “Go help yer uncle. I’ll take care of MacGibbon.”
She nodded once and took off in a run.
The courtyard was still in a disarray. It seemed that most of Laird MacGibbon’s men had either surrendered or been killed, but everyone was waiting to see which of their Lairds would return first. Thalia did not pay them any mind as she ran straight to where her mother, uncle, and sisters were waiting.
She knelt beside her mother again, holding out the jar filled with the woundwort.
Olivia’s eyes went straight to her cut. “What happened in there?” she asked.
“Nothin’ to concern yerself with,” Thalia replied dismissively. “I’m fine. We need to worry about Uncle.”
Olivia nodded, and she and Thalia set to work laying the woundwort over Archibald’s cut. He hissed and winced as they pressed the leaves against his tender skin, but at least he was still alive.
Finlay emerged from the front doors, dragging Harrison’s dead body behind him. He kicked the body down the stairs, and the remaining men watched as it rolled over onto the ground.
“To anyone who still fights under the MacGibbon banner,” he boomed. “Yer Laird is dead. If ye daenae wish to continue this useless war, I suggest ye leave now.”
The remaining men turned to each other and then looked at Finlay and Caden’s men.
“Aye!” one of them spoke up. “We shall leave, and we willnae disturb ye again.”
He turned to his comrades as if daring any of them to contradict him. The men mumbled their agreement, and the courtyard began to clear.
Thalia kept her attention on her uncle as she and her mother finished their work.
“How are ye feelin’, Uncle?” she asked.
“Awful,” Archibald admitted. “But I’m grateful to ye.”
Once it was done, Olivia released a sigh. “We should get him to bed so he can rest.”
“I can help with that,” Caden offered, coming up to join them. Finlay was behind him.
“We’ll carry him back to his room,” he agreed.
The women moved out of the way as Finlay and Caden worked to gently lift Archibald. Caden grabbed under the man’s arms while Finlay grabbed his legs, and then they carried him to the castle.
Thalia watched them go, looking out at the dispersing crowd. Now that they had beaten Clan MacGibbon, things could perhaps go back to normal.
Olivia wrapped an arm around her, squeezing her shoulders. “I think ye should go and have a lie down as well.”
“I’m fine,” Thalia tried.
But her mother remained unconvinced.
“I’ll send a maid up to draw ye a bath, and ye can get rid of yer dress,” she suggested.
Thalia looked down at her tattered and bloodied wedding dress. She was partially glad that it was ruined beyond repair. It only seemed to bring her bad luck.
“Aye,” she relented. “A bath sounds good.”
They walked together, with Ava and Emma bringing up the rear. When the women arrived at the room, Thalia went to sit on the bed, and Olivia left to find a maid.
Emma paced the room, shaking her head. “I cannae believe it! Finlay showin’ up the way he did, and Caden, too!”
“Aye!” Ava agreed. “I kent that he was plannin’ somethin’, but I still didnae expect… and Uncle being in on it, too!”
Thalia watched her sisters pace back and forth for a moment, her body sagging with the stress of everything that had happened.
“Ava, Emma.” Her sisters turned to her. She sighed. “I think I’d like to be alone for a minute. I’ll clean up and join ye later.”
“Are ye sure?” Emma asked.
“We daenae mind keepin’ ye company,” Ava added.
Thalia nodded. “I’m sure. Thank ye.”
The sisters hugged each other, before Emma and Ava left the room.
Thalia lay back down, pulling her knees up to her chest as she stared across her room. She had resigned herself to marry Harrison, but now he was dead. Finlay had saved her, but was it because he wanted to be with her?
She could not be sure. She would have to wait until she spoke with him again.