Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Sit."
Harald pointed at the chair near the hearth in his private solar, his voice leaving no room for argument. Enya stood in the doorway looking pale and shaken, her hands twisting together like she didn't know what to do with them.
"I should call the healer."
"Ye should sit before ye fall down." Harald moved to the sideboard and poured whisky into two cups. "Yer hands are still shakin'."
"I'm fine."
"Ye're nae fine. Ye were nearly torn apart by wolves." He pushed one cup into her hands, noting how her fingers trembled when she took it. "Drink. It'll help."
Enya stared at the amber liquid like she'd never seen whisky before. "I dinnae usually drink this."
"Taenight ye will." Harald downed his own cup in one swallow, relishing the burn. "Trust me."
She took a tentative sip and immediately coughed, her eyes watering. "That's awful."
"Aye. But it works." Harald set his cup aside and began unfastening his sleeve, wincing as the fabric pulled at the gash on his forearm. "Now, are ye goin' tae keep arguin', or are ye goin' tae tell me what ye were really daein' in that forest?"
The color drained from Enya's face. "I told ye. I was walkin' with Amelia and wandered too far."
"That's shite and we both ken it." Harald's voice was calm but implacable. "Ye were half a mile from the castle, Enya. In the opposite direction from the gardens. And when I found ye, ye were alone."
She was hiding something. Something significant enough to risk wolves and Harald's suspicion.
The question was what.
"I needed air," she said finally. "The castle feels... confined. I wanted space tae think."
"About what?"
"About all of this!" The words burst out of her like she'd been holding them back. "About bein' married tae a stranger in less than ten days. About people whisperin' that I'm cursed every time I walk past. About—" She stopped, her jaw working. "About everythin'."
The frustration in her voice sounded genuine. But Harald had learned long ago that the best lies were wrapped in truth.
"So ye decided tae think about it alone in the forest at dusk." He kept his tone neutral. "In winter. When wolves are hungriest and most desperate."
"I didnae think it through."
"Nay, ye didnae." Harald reached for the clean linen he kept in his desk. "That much is clear."
They sat in tense silence while Harald tried to wrap the wound one-handed. It wasn't working—the linen kept slipping, and he couldn't tie it properly without letting go.
"Let me." Enya set her cup aside and moved to stand in front of him. "Please. I... I need tae dae somethin'. It’s the least I can dae after ye saved me. Twice."
Harald wanted to refuse. Wanted to maintain the distance that would keep him safe from whatever scheme she might be part of.
But when she looked at him with those impossible eyes, he found himself nodding.
"Alright."
Enya's hands were steadier now as she unwrapped his clumsy attempt at bandaging.
Her touch was gentle, careful not to cause unnecessary pain. She cleaned the wound with the whisky, while Harald hissed at the sting, and wrapped it properly with practiced efficiency.
"Ye've done this before," he observed.
"I learned."
"From who?"
"Our castle healer. She said I had good hands fer it." Enya tied off the bandage with a neat knot. "There. That should hold."
"Thank ye." Harald flexed his arm, testing the binding. "It's well done."
"It's the least I could dae after ye..." Enya's throat worked. "After ye saved me. Again. I seem tae be makin' a habit of needin' rescue."
"Ye seem tae be makin' a habit of puttin' yerself in danger." Harald caught her wrist gently when she stepped back.
The lie he knew she told sat between them like a wall. Harald felt something in his chest tighten—disappointment, maybe, or the death of hope he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"Right," he said finally. "Well. Get some rest. Ye've had a difficult day. Goodnight, Lady Cameron."
The formality was deliberate. A retreat to the safety of titles and distance. Enya flinched like he'd struck her, and Harald hated himself for the small satisfaction it gave him.
She left without another word, closing the door softly behind her. Harald stood alone in his solar, staring at the neatly wrapped bandage on his arm, and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do with a bride who couldn't—or wouldn't—trust him.
"Ye look like shite."
Harald glared at Leo across the council table. "Thank ye fer that keen observation."
"Just callin' it as I see it." Leo leaned back in his chair, studying Harald with knowing eyes. "Rough night?"
"Ye could say that." Harald spread the patrol reports across the table, such as they were. Mostly blank pages with naething tae report. "Tell me ye found somethin'."
"Nae anythin' useful." Leo's expression turned serious. "But there's tracks. Northern forest paths, near the old huntin’ trails. Recent, by the look of them."
Harald's attention sharpened. "How recent?"
"A day old, maybe two. Multiple sets, all movin' careful-like. Whoever it was kent how tae cover their trail, we only found evidence because Finn's got an eye fer disturbed ground."
"How many?"
"Hard tae say. At least four, maybe more." Leo pulled out a rough map and marked several locations. "They're keepin' tae the thickest cover, avoidin' the main paths. Nae like hunters or travelers. More like..."
"Like scouts," Harald finished grimly. "Or an advance party."
"Aye." Leo's jaw tightened. "Could be the brigands from the ambush, gone tae ground while they wait fer things tae quiet down."
"Could be." But Harald's instincts said otherwise. The attack on Enya had been too organized, too well-timed. And now there were men moving through his forest with military precision.
This wasn't random violence. This was planning.
"Double the patrols," he said. "I want every trail watched, every approach covered. And tell the men tae look fer camps, any sign of sustained presence."
"Ye think someone's settlin' in fer a siege?"
"I dinnae ken yet." Harald's mind was already racing ahead, connecting pieces that formed an ugly picture. "But I sure want to find answers. I want tae ken who and why before they get what they came fer."
Leo studied him for a long moment. “Is this about what happened tae lady Cameron yesterday?”
Harald thought of Enya's hands on his arm, gentle and careful. Thought of the genuine fear in her eyes when he'd found her cornered by wolves. Thought of the way she'd looked at him when he'd defended her against Henry.
"I dinnae ken what tae believe," he admitted. "But I cannae afford tae trust blindly. Nae with me people's safety at stake."
"Fair enough." Leo gathered the maps. "I'll get the patrols organized. Ye should get some sleep, ye look half-dead."
"I'm fine."
"Ye're nae fine. Ye're worryin' about tracks and brigands and whether yer future wife is a spy." Leo headed for the door, then paused. "Fer what it's worth? She doesnae strike me as one to play tricky games."
He left before Harald could respond, leaving him alone with maps that showed nothing and suspicions that felt like betrayal.
"Are ye certain ye want tae dae this, me lady?"
Amelia's voice was gentle with concern as she helped Enya dress. The bruise on Enya's jaw had darkened overnight, and her hands still shook slightly when she thought about the wolves.
"I need tae." Enya fastened her belt with hands that were steadier than they'd been. "I cannae hide in me chamber ferever. The household needs tae see me, and I need tae..." She trailed off.
"Need tae what?"
Need tae see if he still looks at me like I’ve betrayed him.
"Need tae start learnin' this place," Enya said instead. "If I'm tae be lady here, I should ken the people who'll be under me care."
"Even though they whisper that ye're touched by death?"
"Especially because of that." Enya lifted her chin. "I've spent me whole life lettin' people's fear dictate what I could dae. I'll nae start again here."
Amelia's expression softened. "There's the spirit. Come on, then. Let's show them what the Cameron lass is made of."
They started in the kitchens—the heart of any castle, where news traveled faster than horses and opinions were formed with brutal honesty. Enya steeled herself for stares and whispers as they entered.
The head cook, a formidable woman named Greer, looked up from a pot of something that smelled wonderful and fixed Enya with an assessing stare.
"So ye're the one, then," Greer said without preamble. "The lady with the different eyes."
"Aye." Enya refused to look away. "I'm Enya Cameron. Soon tae be Lady of Lewis."
"Soon tae be." Greer's expression was unreadable. "We'll see about that, willnae we? Ten days is a long time."
"Is it a threat or a challenge?" Enya asked before she could think better of it.
A smile cracked Greer's stern face. "A bit of both, maybe.”
"Moira!" The cook's voice carried through the kitchen. "Come show Lady Cameron around. Make certain she kens where everythin' is."
The same grey-haired woman who'd helped Enya on her first night appeared, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Aye, Greer. Come along, me lady. I'll give ye the tour."
The kitchens were organized chaos—servants rushing between hearths and prep tables, carrying platters and stirring pots and chopping vegetables with practiced efficiency.
Moira introduced Enya to each person they passed, and while some looked wary, none were openly hostile.
It was more than Enya had dared hope for.
They were examining the stores when raised voices echoed from the main hall. Enya glanced at Moira, who sighed.
"The children, most like. They're always underfoot this time of day." But there was fondness in her tone. "Come on. Ye should meet them too."
The main hall was indeed full of children—at least a dozen, ranging from toddlers to near-adolescents. They were chasing each other around the tables, shrieking with laughter, while two harried-looking women tried unsuccessfully to herd them.
And in the middle of it all, reaching up to a high shelf while a tiny maid stood on tiptoe beside him, was Harald.
Enya stopped in the doorway, unable to look away.
"Just a bit more, me laird," the maid was saying. "I can almost reach it."
"Ye're goin' tae fall and crack yer skull." Harald's voice was patient despite the chaos around them. "Here. Let me."
He reached past her easily, retrieving what looked like a serving platter from the top shelf. The maid's face lit up with gratitude.
"Thank ye, me laird! I've been tryin' tae reach that all mornin'."
"Why didnae ye ask fer help sooner?" But there was no censure in Harald's tone. Just genuine curiosity.
"I didnae want tae trouble anyone."
"It's nae trouble, Bess." Harald handed her the platter. "But next time, just ask. Better that than ye breakin' yer neck tryin' tae be independent."
"Aye, me laird." Bess bobbed a curtsy and hurried away, clutching her prize.
Harald turned and immediately had to catch a small child who'd crashed into his legs while fleeing another.
"Careful there, Tam." Harald steadied the boy with one hand. "Ye'll dae yerself an injury runnin' like that."
"Sorry, me laird!" The boy—Tam—grinned up at him without a trace of fear. "We're playin' raiders and defenders!"
"Are ye now?" Harald's mouth quirked. "And which are ye?"
"A raider! The fiercest one!" Tam brandished a wooden sword. "I'm the Hawk of Lewis, and I'm defendin' me island from—" He stopped, his eyes going wide as he spotted Enya. "From... oh."
The hall went quiet as one by one, the children noticed her. Enya felt the weight of their stares, saw the way some of them stepped back instinctively.
They'd already heard the stories. Already decided she was something to fear.
But before the silence could stretch too long, Harald spoke.
"Tam, this is Lady Enya Cameron." His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "She's goin' tae be the lady of this castle. Which means ye should probably show her the same respect ye show me."
"Even though she's got the Norns' mark?" One of the older girls asked, her voice uncertain.
"Exactly." Harald's tone sharpened slightly. "The Norns are powerful, aye. But that daesnae make Lady Enya dangerous. It makes her marked fer somethin' important. And we're lucky tae have her here."
The words settled over the children like a benediction. Enya felt her throat tighten with something she couldn't name.
Again, he was protecting her. Even after the tension of the night before, even when he clearly didn't trust her, he was still standing between her and fear.
"Can she fight?" Tam asked suddenly. "If she's marked by fate, can she fight like the Valkyries?"
"I dinnae—" Enya started.
"She fought off wolves yesterday," Harald said. "Stood her ground with naethin' but a branch while three of them circled her. I'd say that counts as brave, wouldnae ye?"
The children's eyes went wide. One of them, a girl of maybe eight, stepped forward cautiously.
"Were ye scared?"
"Aye," Enya admitted. "I just kept thinkin' I had tae stay alive."
"And ye did." The girl's expression turned admiring. "Ye're brave."
"I'm nae sure about that."
"She is." Harald's eyes met Enya's across the hall, and something passed between them—understanding, maybe, or the ghost of trust trying to rebuild itself. "One of the bravest people I've met."
The declaration left Enya speechless. After last night, after the lies and suspicion, she hadn't expected kindness.
But here it was anyway. Offered freely, without condition.
Why? Why defend me when ye ken I'm lyin' tae ye?
But the children were crowding closer now, their fear dissolving into curiosity, and Enya found herself answering their questions and letting them examine her eyes up close and trying not to cry at how easily they accepted what everyone else had always feared.
And through it all, she felt Harald watching her with an expression she couldn't quite read.
Something that made her guilt cut deeper than any wolf's teeth ever could.