Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Still locked. Still empty.”
Ada stood in the corridor outside the healer's chamber, staring at the closed door.
Mairi hadn't returned yet from Lewis, and Ada was beginning to feel the weight of that absence.
The sick in the southern village were recovering—slowly, but recovering—thanks to the clean water and basic remedies she'd been able to provide.
But Ada knew her limitations. She needed proper supplies.
Herbs. Tinctures. The kind of knowledge that came from years of training, not just months of learning while running from her father's men.
"Me lady?"
Ada turned. Donnan stood at the end of the corridor, that easy smile on his face that never quite reached his eyes.
God, what daes he want now?!
Her stomach tightened. "Donnan."
"I was hopin' tae find ye." He moved closer, and Ada resisted the urge to step back. “Tae see how ye are daein’.”
"I'm fine."
"Are ye?" Donnan's gaze swept over her, lingering just a moment too long. "Because from where I'm standin', it looks like ye've been workin' yerself tae exhaustion. Ridin' out tae villages, tendin' the sick. That's nae proper work fer a lady."
"I'm a healer." Ada kept her voice level. "Or I'm tryin' tae be. And the people needed help."
"Aye, well. Yer faither wouldnae approve."
"Me faither daesnae care what I dae, as long as I'm out of his sight and makin' him look good at court." The words came out sharper than she'd intended. "Why are ye really here, Donnan? Why are ye always... around?"
Donnan's smile widened slightly. "I told ye before, me lady. Yer faither wants tae make sure ye're safe. That ye're being treated well. He asked me tae stay on Barra fer a while, keep an eye on things."
"Keep an eye on me, ye mean."
"If that's how ye want tae put it." Donnan leaned against the wall, too casual, too comfortable.
"Though I'd say it's more about keepin' ye safe.
These Norse lairds, they're nae like Highland men.
They're savage. Unpredictable. And yer intended husband.
.." He lowered his voice. "Well. Ye've heard the rumors about what happened tae his first wife. "
Ada's hands clenched at her sides. "Those are just rumors."
"Are they?" Donnan's expression turned serious. "I'm nae sayin' the laird would hurt ye, me lady. But I am sayin' that if ye ever felt unsafe, if ye ever needed help gettin' away from here... I'd help ye. Yer faither would want that."
The words should have been comforting. Should have felt like protection, like someone caring about her wellbeing.
Instead, they made Ada's skin crawl.
"I dinnae need help," she said firmly. "And I dinnae need ye followin' me around the keep. I'm perfectly capable of takin' care of meself."
"Of course, ye are." Donnan pushed off the wall. "But I'll be around anyway. Just in case."
He walked past her, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed hers. Ada held her ground, refusing to flinch away.
Ada didn't trust Donnan. She didn't trust his easy smiles or his concerned words or his constant presence hovering at the edges of her vision. Her father had sent him there for a reason, and it wasn't to ensure her safety.
Magnus rode into the southern village as the sun climbed toward its peak.
The well stood closed, just as he'd ordered—heavy wooden boards nailed across the opening, two guards posted nearby. The village itself seemed quieter than it had been yesterday. Less panic. More resignation.
That was good. Panic bred mistakes. Resignation at least allowed for clear thinking.
"Me laird." One of the guards straightened as Magnus dismounted. "The well's been sealed tight. Nay one's gone near it."
"Good. How are the sick?"
"Better, from what I hear. Lady Ada's been checkin' on them regularly. Says most of the fever's broken."
Magnus nodded, relief settling in his chest. They had been right about the water. If they'd waited even another day before closing the well...
He didn't want to think about how many more might have gotten sick or even died.
"I'm goin' tae check on them meself," Magnus said. "Keep watch here."
He made his way through the village, stopping at each cottage where someone had fallen ill. Most were sleeping, their breathing easier now, their color better.
A few were sitting up, taking broth or water. One, a young boy who'd been near death two days before, was even laughing at something his mother said.
Magnus felt something loosen in his chest. His people were recovering. They'd survive this.
"Me laird?"
He turned. Olivia, the village elder's wife, stood in the doorway of her cottage.
"How can I help ye, Olivia?"
"I just wanted tae thank ye. Fer comin' so quickly when we sent word. Fer bringin' Lady Ada." Olivia smiled. "She's a good lass, that one. Kind. Patient. Really kens her healin'."
"Aye. She daes."
"And pretty too." Olivia's eyes gleamed with something that might have been mischief. "Ye're a lucky man, me jarl. Tae be gettin' such a fine bride."
Magnus shifted uncomfortably. "The king chose her, nae me."
"Maybe so. But she came tae help us. We will nae forget Lady Ada’s kindness." Olivia glanced over her shoulder, then lowered her voice. "Folk are talkin', me laird. Sayin' maybe this marriage willnae be like... the last one."
Magnus went still. The mention of Freydis always did that to him, turned him to stone. "What dae they say about the last one?"
Olivia's expression turned cautious, clearly regretting her words.
"Just... ye ken. Whispers. About Lady Freydis. About what happened. But naething bad about ye, me laird," she added quickly. "Just that it was a difficult time. That ye've been alone too long carryin’ that burden."
Magnus's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice level. "Lady Freydis's death was a private matter. But I appreciate yer concern fer me wellbeing, Olivia. And yer kindness tae Lady Ada."
"Of course, me laird." Olivia bobbed a curtsy, relief evident on her weathered face. "She's one of us now. We'll take care of her."
Magnus nodded, the tightness in his chest easing slightly. "Thank ye."
He walked away, Olivia’s words echoing in his mind.
He knew what people whispered. Knew what they believed. That he'd killed Freydis in a fit of rage. That he'd struck her, pushed her, done something violent that had ended her life and the life of the child she carried.
None of it was true.
But the truth was worse than any rumor. And Magnus would rather be called a murderer than admit what had really happened.
By the time he rode back to Dun Barra, the sun was beginning its descent. He was tired, his shoulders aching from hours in the saddle, his mind still turning over Olivia's words.
Maybe this marriage willnae be like the last one.
Gods, he hoped not.
As he approached the keep, movement on the water caught his eye. Ships. Four of them, their sails marked with familiar sigils.
Magnus's exhaustion lifted immediately, replaced by something unexpected—relief.
The other jarls. Harald, Ragnar, Erik, and Ivar. They'd come for the wedding.
A warmth spread through Magnus's chest that he hadn't felt in months.
Those men—warriors bound by the same impossible Pact—were the closest thing to brothers he had.
They understood what it meant to be forced into marriage for the sake of peace, and Erik what it meant to carry the weight of two cultures on his shoulders, to be feared and mistrusted by the very people they were meant to protect.
And they'd come. Despite their own responsibilities, despite the distance, despite everything, they'd sailed to Barra to stand with him.
Magnus rode into the courtyard just as the first ship was docking. Torvald was already there, organizing men to help unload supplies.
"When did they send word they were comin'?" Magnus asked, unable to keep the slight smile from his face.
"They didnae. Just showed up an hour ago." Torvald grinned. "Thought ye might want tae ken before they descended on yer hall."
"Ye thought right." Magnus dismounted, handed his horse to a stable boy, already feeling lighter than he had all day. "Where's Ada?"
"In her chamber, I think. Want me tae fetch her?"
"Nay. I'll go meself." Magnus paused. "How many are there?"
"All four. Harald, Ragnar, Ivar, and Erik brought his wife. She's heavy with child, from what I saw."
Magnus nodded thoughtfully. Erik's wife Claricia was the first Highland bride, the one who'd survived kidnapping and clan warfare to make her marriage work. Having her there would actually be good, she could help Ada understand what lay ahead, perhaps ease some of her fears.
"Make sure they have chambers prepared," Magnus said. "And tell the kitchens tae prepare a proper meal fer taenight. A feast, even."
He took the stairs to the east tower quickly, his mind already spinning. The other jarls would want to meet Ada. Would want to assess whether this marriage had any chance of success.
Ada would be terrified.
He reached her door, remembered at the last moment to knock this time.
"Enter."
Ada stood by the window, still wearing the simple wool dress from that morning. She turned when he entered, and he saw the tension in her shoulders immediately.
"Magnus. Is somethin' wrong?"
"Nay. Well. Nae wrong, exactly." He moved further into the room. "We're havin' guests fer dinner taenight. I wanted tae let ye ken before ye walked intae the hall and found it full of Vikings."
Ada's eyes widened. "What kind of guests?"
"The other jarls from the Pact. Harald of Lewis, Ragnar of Uist, Ivar of Mull. And Erik of Skye brought his wife Claricia."
"All of them? Here? Taenight?" Ada's hand went to her throat. "Why?"
"Because we're gettin' married in two days, and they want tae witness it." Magnus kept his voice gentle. "They're me closest allies. Me friends. They'll want tae meet ye."
"I—" Ada swallowed hard. "I dinnae ken what tae say tae them. What if I say somethin' wrong?"