Chapter 8
The training yard smelled of iron and damp earth.
Frederick preferred it that way.
Steel rang in measured rhythm as two younger warriors sparred near the far post, their boots grinding dust into the packed ground. The morning sun had not yet climbed high enough to soften the chill, and breath hung pale in the air as men moved through drills.
He stood near the weapon rack, running his thumb along the edge of a blade that should have been sharper.
“Too dull,” he said without looking up.
The guard nearest him stiffened. “Aye, me Laird.”
“Sharpen it again. If ye hesitate in the yard, ye hesitate in the field.”
The man nodded and hurried off.
Frederick set the sword back in its place, gaze sweeping the perimeter. Repairs along the west wall had been completed. The newer recruits held their shields correctly today. The stable boy had finally remembered to secure the gate latch properly.
Order.
Predictable.
Footsteps approached behind him, unhurried.
Lennox Cochrane stopped at his side, hands clasped loosely behind his back as though they were inspecting livestock rather than men prepared for war.
“They are improving,” Lennox observed.
“They should be,” Frederick replied. “They train every day.”
Lennox watched a pair of warriors circle one another, then added mildly, “The younger one favors his left. If he keeps that habit, someone will notice.”
“I have noticed.”
“Then I shall assume ye intend to correct it.”
Frederick did not answer. He stepped forward instead, cutting through the yard with quiet authority. The sparring halted.
“Switch hands,” he instructed the younger warrior. “Now.”
The man obeyed.
Frederick did not raise his voice. He did not need to. The yard shifted around him automatically, men adjusting stances, tightening grips, sharpening attention.
He walked the perimeter once more before returning to Lennox.
“Well?” Frederick asked at last.
Lennox did not pretend to misunderstand.
“The runner made it farther than I would have liked,” he said evenly. “He cut north first. Smart enough to double back once.”
Frederick’s jaw tightened slightly. “And?”
“We followed the blood trail until it thinned. He mounted a horse near the bend past the alder grove.”
“Stolen?”
“Aye.”
Frederick’s gaze flicked briefly toward the horizon beyond the yard walls.
“Where did the trail end?”
“That is the part ye willnae enjoy,” Lennox said slowly.
Frederick turned his head expectantly.
“It faded past the Camerons’ perimeter,” Lennox continued. “Right along the southern edge. Close enough to claim coincidence. Far enough to deny intention.”
Frederick’s expression did not change. Cameron wouldnae send men so sloppily into me lands.
“After that?” he said stoically.
“Nothing conclusive. The horse tracks merged with older ones near the border path. If he crossed fully into their lands, he did it cleanly.”
Frederick folded his arms across his chest. “Which means we have nothin’,” he said.
“We have suspicion,” Lennox corrected. “But nae proof.”
Frederick looked back toward the sparring men, though he was no longer seeing them.
The attack in the forest had not been random. The men had known where to wait. They had watched long enough to identify their targets. That was not desperation. That was direction.
“Have the hounds been sent?” Frederick asked.
“They are already working the outer perimeter,” Lennox replied. “I placed two additional men along the southern ridge. Quiet ones. They willnae provoke anything, but they will watch.”
Frederick nodded once.
“If the runner makes contact, we will hear of it,” Lennox added. “If he doesnae… then he is either dead or very well hidden.”
“Dead men are easier to account for,” Frederick said.
Lennox’s mouth twitched faintly. “Aye.”
A shout rose from the yard as one of the warriors misjudged a step and took a wooden blade across the shoulder.
Frederick’s head snapped toward the sound.
“Reset,” he called.
The men obeyed instantly.
Silence settled again except for the steady thud of boots and the scrape of steel.
“Do ye believe they were after the missing village lass?” Lennox asked carefully.
“Nay,” Frederick said at last.
“Because?”
“They had opportunity,” Frederick replied. “They didnae take it.”
Lennox nodded slowly. “They were focused.”
“Aye.”
The memory sharpened: the way one of the attackers had reached not for coin, not for distraction, but forward, toward Iona. Toward Jamie.
Frederick’s hands clenched briefly before he forced them to relax.
“They matched a description,” Lennox said quietly. “Or they believed they had.”
Frederick turned to him fully now. “Say what ye mean.”
“They might nae have kent who they were hunting,” Lennox replied evenly. “Only that they were to look for red hair. A woman traveling with a child. And perhaps more, but that is all we ken.”
Frederick’s gaze flickered for a fraction of a second. The white streak in his own hair had not gone unnoticed in the village.
“And if that description spreads?” Lennox continued.
“It will be contained,” Frederick said flatly.
Lennox studied him a moment.
“We can strengthen patrols,” he offered. “Without drawing attention.”
“Do it.”
“Already planned.”
Frederick exhaled slowly through his nose.
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of sweat and leather across the yard. He preferred tangible threats. Walls. Blades. Men whose faces he could see.
Loose ends irritated him.
A trail that died at a border was not closure. It was a challenge.
“If the neighboring clan shelters him,” Lennox said, “they risk escalation. We need to find out who has also experienced these kidnappings and attacks. Surely we arenae the first.”
“They risk nothing if we have nae proof,” Frederick replied.
“And if we never find proof?”
Frederick’s voice lowered, steady as stone. “Then we prepare anyway.”
Lennox gave a slight nod.
Behind them, a recruit faltered again.
Frederick strode forward without hesitation, stepping between the men and disarming the younger warrior in a single controlled movement.
“Balance,” he said sharply. “Ye fight like a man who expects mercy.”
The warrior flushed.
“Expect nothin’,” Frederick continued, handing the blade back. “Earn everythin’.”
He stepped away, leaving the lesson hanging in the air.
When he returned to Lennox, the yard had quieted in a different way. More focused. More aware.
“The hounds will run until dusk,” Lennox said. “If they catch scent again, we will know before nightfall.”
Frederick nodded once.
“If they daenae reach the scent again, then the runner has truly vanished,” Lennox replied. “For now – nay doubt to report on their findings. There might be more.”
Frederick looked once more toward the distant hills beyond the yard walls.
“For now,” he echoed.
He did not like uncertainty.
But uncertainty could be managed.
What could not be managed was hesitation.
He turned back toward the yard, gaze hardening.
“Double the watch tonight,” he said.
“It will be done.”
The clang of steel resumed. The yard returned to motion.
Frederick stood a moment longer, measuring everything, committing the morning to memory.
Then they left the yard together, the clang of steel fading behind them as they crossed into the inner corridor.
For several steps, neither spoke.
Stone walls cooled the air, muting the sounds of the castle to a distant hum. Frederick kept his pace steady, hands clasped loosely behind his back.
Lennox glanced sideways at him. “Ye are thinking too loudly.”
Frederick did not slow. “That is a foolish sentence.”
“Aye,” Lennox agreed easily. “But accurate.”
Frederick shot him a look that would have silenced most men. Lennox merely adjusted his stride.
Lennox shrugged. “So, ye brought two new residents into the heart of the castle today. That changes the shape of things around here.”
“It changes nothin’,” Frederick replied.
“It changes optics,” Lennox countered. “And optics matter.”
Frederick stopped walking.
They stood at the intersection of two corridors, sunlight cutting through a narrow window between them.
“Speak plainly,” Frederick said.
Lennox met his gaze without flinching. “The child looks like ye, Frederick. Exactly like ye. Stubbornness and all.”
Frederick’s expression did not shift. “Many children have dark hair.”
“With a white streak?” Lennox lifted a brow.
Silence.
“I am nae blind,” Lennox continued, though his tone remained controlled. “Nor are the guards. Nor is yer mother.”
Frederick resumed walking.
“And?” he said evenly.
“And nothin’,” Lennox replied. “If ye say nothin’ so be it.”
Frederick’s hands flexed once behind his back.
The matter had not been discussed openly. It had not needed to be. But Lennox was his most trusted man. If he saw it, others would.
“I will manage it,” Frederick said.
“I ken,” Lennox replied. “Ye manage most things.”
There was no mockery in it. Just fact.
They passed a pair of servants who bowed quickly and hurried on.
After a moment, Lennox added, lighter this time, “The child called ye Frederick in the yard.”
Frederick’s mouth almost curved.
“It is preferable that the child call me ‘me Laird’.”
“Aye,” Lennox agreed. “Though the look on yer face when it happened was worth a wager.”
Frederick did not dignify that with a response.
Lennox studied him again, more quietly now. “Ye intend to marry her.”
It was not phrased as a question.
Frederick did not deny it. “It would resolve complications and optics.”
“That is one way to look at it.”
“It secures legitimacy,” Frederick continued. “It stabilizes perception. It protects the child.”
“And her?” Lennox asked.
Frederick’s gaze flicked briefly to him.
“She would be protected,” he said.
Lennox nodded once. “Aye.”
They reached the end of the corridor that led toward the council chamber.
Lennox adjusted his belt and continued, “She doesnae fear ye.”
Frederick frowned slightly. “That is inaccurate.”
“She fears losing control,” Lennox clarified. “But nae ye.”
Frederick considered that.
She had braced in the village as though expecting a command. Or worse.
He had seen that tension before. In men who had survived harsh lords. In clans that had known instability.
“She expects force,” Lennox continued quietly. “She prepares for it.”
“And?” Frederick prompted.
“And ye did what she expected ye to do, and ordered her to join ye here – her opinion and choice didnae matter.”
They stepped into a small alcove overlooking the inner courtyard. From here, he could see the tower where her chamber had been prepared.
The wind tugged faintly at the banners above.
“That was necessary. But this… I willnae force her on this matter,” Frederick said at last.
“I didnae think ye would,” Lennox replied simply.
Another silence settled between them. This one easier.
After a moment, Lennox’s tone shifted again, faintly amused. “Yer mother will nae be so patient.”
Frederick exhaled through his nose. “She has already begun.”
“Aye,” Lennox said with a grin. “I passed her in the hall earlier. She was speaking of seating arrangements.”
Frederick closed his eyes briefly.
Lennox raised his hands slightly in surrender. “I am jesting.”
“Ye are a fool,” Frederick said, and exhaled the breath he had been holding.
Lennox’s expression softened just a fraction. “Ye look changed.”
Frederick’s gaze sharpened. “I am quite the same.”
“Nay, it is as though ye are calculating something beyond grain stores and patrol routes and revenge.”
Frederick turned away, looking out over the courtyard again.
“I always calculate,” he said.
“Aye,” Lennox agreed. “But this time it is different.”
Frederick did not answer that.
“The hounds will continue along the southern ridge,” he said quietly. “And I will keep watch.”
Frederick nodded once.
“And ye?” Lennox added.
“I have matters to settle,” Frederick replied.
Lennox clapped a hand briefly against his shoulder, firm and wordless. “Whatever ye decide, I stand with ye.”
Frederick inclined his head.
That was enough.
He turned from the alcove, his stride purposeful once more.
Loose ends could be chased. Patrols doubled. Borders watched.
But there was one conversation waiting that required more precision than any blade in the yard.
He headed toward her chamber.