Chapter 6 #2
Something inside Briana cracked at that.
Maybe it was her tiredness, or the stress of everything that had happened over the last two days, or perhaps it was just her heart crumbling, but her voice trembled when she spoke again.
"Did… did ye really nae recognize me? Noah did at once.
Even Graeme kent me by sight. But ye acted as though I could have been any stranger. "
That finally made him look. He was frowning again, but not in anger—it looked more like thoughtfulness. "Should I have recognized ye? I only recall meetin' ye once in passin' before the alliance was destroyed. I dinnae think we even spoke."
He'd barely noticed her. The only shining moment in her life since her mother had died, the only moment that had given her joy in a time of darkness, and he'd simply thought of it as a moment in passing. Briana felt more foolish and more hopeless than she ever had.
"I…" she started, then gulped as her throat burned. "I…"
Theon's forehead creased. "Ye were just a wee lass.
Ye couldnae have been more than thirteen, fourteen, far younger than any of the women that I took notice of at that age.
I never thought I needed tae." He smiled wryly.
"I thought a lot of things back then. I thought I'd be wed tae a nice lass and have a few bairns.
I thought I'd inherit me father's title and take care of me clan with Keir as me advisor.
Now look at me. Look at us all." With a shrug, he said, "I'm surprised ye even remember a moment so insignificant. "
Briana managed to push out words even though they tasted like poison. "I barely remember either," she lied, knowing that her actions had already betrayed her.
Before she could see his reaction, she turned in the bed so her back was to him and let out a shaky breath. She knew that she shouldn't be hurting from his words, but her chest was sore with an ache as painful as any of the cuts and bruises all over her skin.
Theon whittled at the thick branch, his little knife working hard as he carved. He wasn't sure what shape the final product would take just yet, but it wasn't about that. He often passed his downtime this way, finding that the action of working with his hands helped keep him calm.
It had been more than an hour since Briana had last spoken, and he had been left unsettled by her words.
The way she saw him and the other Broken Blades, and even more the way she spoke of his family, it irritated him more than he could understand.
He was used to being branded a criminal, a thief, a kidnapper, and a murderer.
Some of those things were even true. He was even more used to hearing the MacKenzies spoken of as traitors, but he'd never been able to accept it.
Outwardly, he was able to keep more calm than Keir about such things, but inwardly, it boiled his blood.
But there was something about Briana's certainty around it all that bothered him even more, and he could not settle the disquiet that remained.
Her even breathing mixed with the sound of the knife against the wood and the heavy rain pattering against the roof.
He stilled his hands, placing the project to the side and reaching underneath his shirt.
Theon drew out a pendant, a small silver shield bearing the symbol of two foxes prowling by a riverbed.
He ran his thumb over it, though it had been worn smooth over the years.
His heart clenched as he heard his father's voice echoing across the years.
This is our sigil, Theon. We are MacKenzies. Always remember, the fox always returns tae his den. Promise me ye'll never forget that. Promise me ye'll always care for yer brother, nae matter what.
Theon clenched his fist around the pendant.
He'd promised then, never knowing just how soon he'd have to keep that promise.
He'd lost everything—everything except Keir, who had needed Theon to look after him in the worst moment of their lives.
But now, at long, long last, Theon truly might have a chance to get it back.
He just had to make sure he didn't waver.
"No…"
He looked up at the sound. Briana was facing him again, still asleep, but her forehead was creased and her face was tight with pain. She tossed and turned, muttering words under her breath that he could only slightly hear.
"No, please… please," she mumbled.
Theon let out a breath and stood. He hesitated for just a moment, then approached the bed, reaching down to pick up the heavy blanket and drawing it over her shoulders. As he went to move away, she clutched his hands, gripping him tightly without waking.
He paused for just a moment, then, with a small sigh, sat down on the bed beside her. Without thinking, he ran his thumb over her hand in a tiny soothing gesture as she clutched at him, and he watched her face and the fear in it and tried not to feel anything in response.
She was leverage. Just leverage. He had to remember that.
But still, he sat by her side until she calmed, and he never once let go of her hand.