Chapter Fifteen
“If you let cloudy water settle, it will become clear. If you let your upset mind settle, your course will also become clear.”
Laria held Cyrus’s gaze for a long moment, but he said nothing. She stood and turned away. “Everyone should find their pallet and get some rest.” She indicated the steps that ascended with the curve of the wall. “The second floor might be warmer, since it has wooden floors instead of stone.”
“The room with a scarf tied to the latch is the privy,” Bonnie said. “Just be sure to knock before entering in case someone is already using it. There’s a window for emptying buckets down the back but check out the window first to make sure the enemy ain’t riding up.”
Errol nodded to the long but narrow wagon in the corner. “With the help of that, we were able to bring all the pallets and blankets and even bladders of water. It just fitted through the doorway.”
“We pulled it like horses,” Leah said and galloped around the circular inner room.
Max pointed to the stairs. “I placed the rain barrels up on the remains of the third floor to catch any moisture.”
“Ye intend to stay here?” Cyrus asked.
“’Tis a precaution,” Laria said, “in case we’re under siege.”
“Laria has plans worked out to thwart any problems,” Max said with pride in his voice. He smiled at her. “She could be the chief if—” He stopped when he realized he was about to propose death for Erskine in front of his family. He forced a smile. “She’s a great help to Chief Erskine.”
Laria indicated a pallet in the corner. “Cyrus, you can use Reid’s.
He hasn’t been seen since you and Rory visited the other day.
” His sister had left before him, heading south.
Laria hadn’t been able to question him about his prickly involvement with Chief Rory MacLeod, but it was bad enough to make him flee, using the excuse of catching up with Winnie.
“He said he was worried the Lion of Skye would gobble him up,” Leah said and looked directly at Cyrus. “Would Rory MacLeod really eat a man?”
Cyrus’s gaze had gone back to Erskine asleep on the floor, blankets now gently laid upon him. He raised it to Leah. “Nay, but Reid Hodges stole something dear to Rory, so ’tis not surprising the man would run. Rory might not eat him, but he may take a pound of flesh for the man’s sins.”
“A pound of flesh?” Leah made a face. “What did he steal?”
“An important flag.”
Leah frowned. “And would he eat the flesh? Cook it first?”
“’Tis an expression,” Kate said. “Like…” She moved her hands, as if the fluttering motion would help her think.
“All clouds bring not rain,” Bonnie said. “Which means not every threat happens.”
Oscar cleared his throat. “Bite at the stone, not the hand that throws it.” He raised his hand, spreading the fingers wide. “No one is actually biting. It just means not to strike the messenger when he has nothing to do with the horrors within the message he brings.”
“This is fun,” Bernice said. “I have one. Many kiss the child for the nurse’s sake.” Her smile faded. “I think Max was the only one to kiss me.”
Errol, as usual, had remained quiet, but his voice came strong. “The most important one to remember is laws are like spiders’ webs—they catch flies but let hornets go free.” Silence fell over them like the descending night outside.
“Are we the flies, Mama?” Leah’s whisper could be heard all around.
“Yes.” She picked up her daughter, hugging her. “We are the flies.”
Leah hugged her back, her face in the crook of her mother’s neck. “Then we need to stay away from the spiders.”
After a silent moment, Errol stretched his arms overhead. “I’ll take first watch.”
Laria shook her head. “We are barricaded inside. No one can sneak up on us in here. If they try to ram through the door, we will all be woken. Everyone should get their rest tonight so we can figure out how to…go on progress tomorrow.” She met the eyes of each person in the room, turning to catch them all.
It was a silent suggestion for them to think about fleeing with her grandmother to the south.
She wanted them all to go, wanted them all to seek shelter and safety.
But what about her? Should she go or stay to fight Iain and help others he might reject and exile?
Because there would be more. Children born with birthmarks or misshapen backs.
Men and women scarred from the hard work of living.
The aging who needed extra time and gentle handling.
Iain despised them all, despised anyone who wasn’t perfect.
He’d been that way since they were children, even before his brother died.
Had it started with him? Tomas’s back had earned him constant attention from their mother as she sought remedies for the malformation.
Could Iain’s jealousy have led to such hatred?
“I’ll check the roof,” she murmured and grabbed a heavy blanket.
Without a glance at Cyrus, she strode out of the room and started up the stairs set into the outer ring of the tower.
She heard someone follow, dragging a pallet, and glanced back to see Cyrus.
The tightness in her stomach loosened, which was unexpected.
He was the one doubting her. She should be infuriated.
He held my hand. Even though he questioned her accusations about Iain, he accepted her ugliness.
Her legs ached with the continued climbing.
She’d run for miles to get here, circling her way to the broch without leaving a trail.
Cold rushed down the steps as she neared the top.
Stone walls still surrounded the roofless floor on three sides, blocking the wind, and a wall up to her knees stood on the fourth side.
Dropping her blanket, she walked to stand at it, looking out across the dark moor.
The fresh air was welcome after the smoky room below.
The brush of the pallets against the floor ceased, but she kept her gaze trained on the moor.
It was lit by a rising half-moon that coated the landscape with a thin blanket of silver.
She felt more than heard Cyrus stop next to her to take in the view.
They remained in silence for minutes. Why didn’t he say anything?
Why didn’t she? A pressure in her chest felt like the weight of the world.
“I don’t think I can leave.” Her voice broke the silence.
“There will be more outcasts the longer Iain leads Clan Macqueen. They’ll have nowhere to go once they’re forced from Staffin Village without resources.
Iain would have them just wander away and die in the forest once they’re no longer beautiful or useful in his eyes. ”
“But if Erskine becomes chief,” Cyrus said, “all people would be welcome.”
She nodded. “Erskine was raised by another woman when our mother turned him away. But Grandmama visited him and told him of his lineage. Iain knew and hated him for it, because Grandmama loved Erskine despite his odd looks. Maybe even more than she loved Iain, her handsome grandson.” She looked at Cyrus.
“I want to make certain Erskine improves before I leave his side. But without me, Grandmama may refuse to go.”
“Iain is likely hunting for ye already,” Cyrus said. “It won’t take them long to find this broch and hammer their way inside. Ye’ll be trapped here without a way to scatter to find safety.”
Her legs felt weak. The exhaustion from constant worry, cold, and needing to possess all the right answers to protect the group suddenly became too much. She sank to the wooden floor. Her woolen skirt billowed as she sat cross-legged, and her head dropped into her hands. Everything felt too much.
The weight of a blanket fell around her shoulders. It was cold, and she longed for Cyrus’s heat. As if reading her mind, he sat next to her and wrapped the blanket around them both. The space underneath the woven wool filled with warmth.
“May I?” he asked.
She didn’t know what he was asking to do, but she nodded, realizing that she…trusted him. How could she, when he didn’t trust her enough to believe her claims about Iain?
“’Tis warmer this way.” Cyrus pulled her from the floor to sit in his lap as if she were once again a child with nothing worse than a skinned knee or a bruised feeling. Cyrus’s strong arms wrapped around her like a cloak of protection, and she relaxed her head back against his chest.
Exhaustion, more mental than physical, pressed in on her.
But he held her so tenderly that it almost felt as if he lifted some of the weight from her.
For long months, Laria had lived in constant defense.
After Aunt Jane was killed, Laria knew that her grandmother would be next, especially with her sudden display of muddled thoughts.
The woman had even asked her if she felt they were safe at the tower.
When Laria could no longer assure her that they were, she knew she must act, and they had both trudged out into the forest.
Silent tears leaked out of Laria’s eyes and down her cheeks, and Cyrus held her, his chin resting on her head, as they stared out at the night.
…
“Cyrus Mackinnon? Are ye in there?” Bam! Bam! Bam!
Cyrus’s eyes flew open. A sky full of gray clouds filled his vision. Where was he?
“Cy!” came the voice from below.
Cyrus realized his fingers were intertwined with Laria’s.
He sat up, unwilling to release them. Laria sat up next to him, her hair down around her shoulders.
They were both fully clothed. She’d fallen deeply asleep before he’d decided whether or not trying to kiss her was honorable.
So he’d carried her to the pallet—where he, too, had fallen into a deep sleep that had lasted past dawn.