Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The war room at Keith MacKenzie’s stronghold reeked of ambition and stale wine.
Maps covered the oak table, pinned beneath daggers and empty cups. Keith traced the Skye coastline with his finger, calculating. His dozen most trusted men stood silent around him, candlelight flickering across their waiting faces and the stone walls beyond.
“How many ships can we secure?” Keith’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp and demanding.
Cillian stepped forward from the shadows, his weathered face impassive as always.
Keith’s right hand moved with the economy of a man who’d learned long ago that unnecessary motion was wasted effort.
“Ten vessels, me laird. The shipwrights have confirmed they can deliver eight longships and two cargo barges. Enough to carry six hundred warriors, plus supplies fer a sustained assault.”
“And the crews?”
“Loyal. Or paid well enough that loyalty daesnae matter.” Cillian’s pale eyes tracked the maps with professional assessment. “They’ll sail when ye give the word.”
Keith’s mouth curved in satisfaction. Six hundred men. Ten ships. A force large enough to overwhelm Dunvegan’s defenses before the Covenant brothers could fully mobilize their support. Enough to ensure his daughter would be among the casualties when the smoke cleared.
“The shipwrights say they can have the fleet ready within a fortnight,” Cillian continued. “Maybe less if ye’re willing tae pay extra fer night work.”
“Pay it.” Keith moved to the window, staring out at his lands—insufficient, always insufficient compared to what waited across the water. “I want those ships ready tae sail the moment conditions are right. Weather, tides, moon phase—everything needs tae align perfectly.”
Behind him, he heard the rustle of parchment as one of his captains studied the maps. “Me laird, what’s our official justification? The other clans will want tae ken why we’re mounting such a large assault on MacLeod territory.”
“Rescue.” The word tasted like honey on Keith’s tongue. “We’re going tae rescue me beloved daughter from her captors. A faither’s desperate attempt tae save his child from MacLeod cruelty.”
Silence fell, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the distant sound of the castle settling into sleep.
“Will anyone believe that?” The captain’s voice held careful neutrality. “After the letters ye’ve sent? After making it clear she means naething—”
“They’ll believe what serves their interests.
” Keith turned from the window, his gaze sweeping across his assembled men.
“The other lairds—they’ve all lost children, all felt the pain of separation.
They’ll see a faither driven tae desperate measures.
And if Euan MacLeod tries tae produce me letters as proof of abandonment?
” He shrugged. “Then he’ll look like a monster trying tae justify his crimes by slandering a grieving faither. ”
“Clever,” Cillian acknowledged. “But there’s a risk. If the MacLeods have prepared defenses, if they’ve called in support from the Covenant—”
“Then we’ll deal with that when it comes.
” Keith moved back to the table, his fingers finding the point on the map where Dunvegan Castle stood.
“But I’m counting on timing. We strike before their allies can fully mobilize.
MacLeod’s sent word tae them, aye, but gathering forces, coordinating strategy, moving men across the Highlands—that takes time. Time we won’t give them.”
He pulled a dagger from the map’s edge, testing its balance with practiced ease.
The blade caught candlelight, throwing patterns across the ancient parchment.
“Besides, we have advantages they dinnae ken about. The village raids have already stretched their forces thin. They’ll be focused on protecting settlements rather than the castle itself. ”
“About those raids.” Another captain spoke up, this one younger, eager. “The men are ready fer another strike. We could hit the eastern villages, draw even more of their forces away from—”
“Nae yet.” Keith held up a hand. “We’ve made our point. Any more attacks now would make us look like raiders rather than a clan defending its interests. We need tae maintain the appearance of responding tae MacLeod aggression, nae instigating it.”
Cillian’s scarred knuckles tapped the table in what might have been approval. “Smart. Let them wonder when the next strike will come. Keep them off balance.”
“Exactly.” Keith sheathed the dagger at his belt. “Now, let’s discuss the actual assault strategy. When we reach Skye, we’ll need tae move quickly. Hit them before they can fully mobilize.”
He gestured, and his captains pressed in.
“Here, here, and here.” His finger jabbed at three points along the coast. “We hit them from multiple sides afore they ken we’ve landed.
” He traced arrows toward Dunvegan. “Overwhelming force—they willnae have time tae organize.” His hand stopped at the castle.
“Dawn. Their night watch will be half-asleep, reactions sluggish. We’ll be through the gates before they’re awake. ”
“Six hundred men is a substantial force,” one captain observed. “But if the Covenant braithers dae arrive in time—”
“Then we adapt.” Keith’s finger traced potential defensive positions on the map.
“But even if they come, they’ll be arriving piecemeal.
MacKinnon from the north. MacDonald from the east. MacRae from wherever his wandering takes him.
We’ll have the advantage of concentrated force against scattered reinforcements. ”
“What about the Covenant braithers themselves?” Cillian asked quietly. “If they’re at Dunvegan when we strike—”
“Then we’ll deal with them too.” Keith’s voice hardened. “Euan MacLeod is our main target. He’s the heart of their defense. Cut him down and the rest will falter. They’re dangerous, but they’re also predictable. They’ll try tae protect MacLeod above all else.”
He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in. “And, when the opportunity presents itself, me daughter will be made tae look like she died in the crossfire.”
The room went very still. Several of the captains shifted uncomfortably, though none dared voice objection. They’d all signed on for this plan, all accepted the gold that bought their loyalty. Sentiment had no place in that war room.
“Yer certain about that, me laird?” Cillian’s voice held no judgment, just professional curiosity. “Once she’s dead, there’s nay going back. Nay using her as leverage later if plans change.”
“I’m certain.” Keith moved to a smaller table where a sealed letter waited—carefully crafted words meant for the other Highland lairds, explaining his desperate rescue attempt.
“Me new wife carries me son. I’m sure of it.
A boy with MacLeod blood through his maither and MacKenzie ambition through me.
He’ll be the perfect heir—one who can claim both territories without the complications of a sister whose very existence raises questions about legitimacy. ”
“Ishbel kens about this plan?” another captain asked carefully.
“Ishbel kens what she needs tae ken.” Which was almost nothing. His new wife was convenient—pale, quiet, biddable in ways his first wife never had been. She’d given him the legal claim he needed and would soon provide the heir to cement it. Beyond that, her opinions were irrelevant.
Keith went to the window, staring out at the darkness where his future waited. Two weeks. Perhaps less. Then they’d sail for Skye with enough force to crush the MacLeods once and for all.
“One more thing.” He turned back to his men. “I want scouts maintaining constant surveillance on Dunvegan. Daily reports on their defenses, their patrol patterns, any changes in their routine. When we strike, I want tae ken exactly what we’re facing.”
“Already in place, me laird.” Cillian’s mouth curved slightly. “They’ve spotted increased patrols, more guards on the walls. But nothing that suggests they ken about our full plans. They’re preparing fer raids, nae an invasion.”
Keith returned to the table, his hand sweeping across the map of Skye. “Multiple landing sites mean they cannae concentrate their defense. They’ll have tae split their forces, dilute their strength.”
“And if they choose tae abandon the outlying positions and concentrate everything at the castle?” a captain asked.
“Then we’ve already won.” Keith’s smile held no warmth. “Because that means they’re abandoning their people. And a laird who cannae protect his villages isnae a laird worth following. Either way, we break them.”
The captains nodded, understanding the brutal logic. This wasn’t just about taking Dunvegan Castle. It was about destroying MacLeod credibility, about proving that Euan MacLeod couldn’t protect what was his.
About making sure that when the smoke cleared, Keith MacKenzie would stand unchallenged in his claim to those lands.
“Start assembling the men,” Keith ordered. “I want them training in ship-tae-shore landings. I want them drilling formations until they can execute in their sleep. When we sail, I want six hundred warriors who move as one.”
“Aye, me laird.” The captains began filing out, their voices already rising in discussion of logistics and training schedules.
Cillian lingered, his pale eyes studying Keith with uncomfortable perception. “Ye’re betting everything on this assault.”
“I am.” Keith didn’t bother denying it. “Six hundred men is most of our fighting strength. If this fails, we’ll be vulnerable fer years.”
“And ye think it’s worth the risk?”
“I ken it is.” Keith’s gaze returned to the map, to the territories marked in MacLeod colors that would soon be his. “Because if we succeed, we’ll control the most strategically valuable lands in the western Highlands. We’ll be untouchable.”
“And yer daughter?” Cillian asked quietly. “Once again, ye’re certain she needs tae die?”
“She’s a complication I cannae afford.” Keith’s voice went flat. “Sentiment has nay place in this plan, Cillian. Ye of all people should understand that.”
Cillian bowed and left, leaving Keith alone with the maps and the guttering candles and the weight of decisions that would reshape the Highlands.
Two weeks. Perhaps less.
Then Moyra MacKenzie would die, Euan MacLeod would fall, and Keith would finally claim what should have been his all along.