Chapter 14
Vota Mendax
Noah seemed to be aging more rapidly every time Brendan saw him.
There were dark rings under his eyes, and he was paler than before.
The boyish freckles he’d had when they first met were long gone.
The court at Keep Grahame was draining the life from him, it seemed.
How much more vitality and strength could it take?
All of it, Brendan thought, remembering his father’s last words to him.
Take everything they can give, lad, and then some more.
Wring them out like water from an old rag.
Life is about giving and taking, they say, but what they don’t say is that some folks give and some folks take.
Don’t be a giver, or else ye will give till ye have naught left. It’s dog-eat-dog in this world.
Brendan had never seen a dog eat another one. Argentum, for example, loved other dogs, frisking and playing whenever he had a chance.
How old was I when I realized that my father had told me nothing but lies?
It didn’t matter. He knew it now, and so did Noah. So did half of the clan, by the sounds of it.
Not everybody can run away, he thought, with a pang of guilt.
He glanced up to find Noah looking at him, his expression calculating.
“Ye know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious,” he said, repeating what he’d said earlier. “Aren’t ye going to ask me what’s wrong?”
“I assume more murders, more executions—if the two can be considered as different things, that is—and more madcap laws. Am I right?”
Noah sighed. “He planned to marry again. Laird McInnes’ daughter, a fiery red-headed thing.
I never met her, but she was young and beautiful, and he was looking forward to the wedding.
And, of course, it would keep the McInnes Clan in line, not that they had ever caused much trouble.
The girl escaped a few days before the wedding, and he hit the roof.
I daresay ye heard about it, and the search for her. ”
Aye, Brendan thought, clenching his jaw. She’s hiding in my barn right now.
She was in my bed before that.
“He ought to marry a woman his own age,” he said aloud. “What concern of that is mine?”
Noah took a step closer. “Maybe I’ve not been clear.
He’s going mad, Brendan. Perhaps gone mad already.
It’s treason to speak of it, of course, but we all know it.
Only last week, he stabbed one of his advisors to death at a council meeting.
I don’t even know what the man said, only that the laird didn’t like it.
Nobody dared raise a finger to stop him. ”
“Ye aren’t tempting me to go back, Noah.”
Noah groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Are ye not listening? We can’t do anything about the Laird if we’ve got no one to replace him with. Ye have to come back and show yer face, and then we can remove Laird Grahame and replace him with ye, the rightful heir.”
Brendan was silent for a moment, thinking.
“And do I have any choice in this?” he asked at last. “Ye say ye have kept my secret, Noah, and protected me from my father, and yet ye bring all these men here. Do ye truly think that none of them would gossip about this, or let the wrong piece of information at the wrong time slip? News of this will reach my father’s ears.
Did ye simply want to make a point, or do ye intend to drag me back by force? ”
Noah said nothing, and Brendan realized with an unpleasant jolt that his old friend did intend for the news to creep out.
He would never force Brendan back to the Keep—he owed Brendan his life and more besides—but he would certainly maneuver things to put him in an uncomfortable position.
To force Brendan to come back of his own accord.
Brendan glanced up at the circle of riders, all sitting motionless in their saddles, stone-faced.
Not my men anymore, he thought, heart sinking. Once I was so secure of the loyalties of the army. They were my army.
I wonder if they are Noah’s now. He’s not the worst man to lead them.
“I won’t do yer dirty work for ye,” he found himself saying. “Unseat the man yerself. Can’t ye do it?”
Noah gritted his teeth. “Tell me, Brendan, what happens if a clan laird is unseated with no one to take his place? What happens to the clan?”
Brendan said nothing. He knew the answer, of course. Noah continued anyway.
“It’s carnage. Bloody, vicious carnage. All the clans converge.
With luck, somebody else takes the laird’s seat before too much blood is spilled.
If we’re unlucky, the clan will be torn apart like a piece of meat and divided between other clans.
Can ye imagine how they would react, knowing that the infamous Grahame Clan is headless?
They’d crush us to pieces. Ye, too, would have to die.
They couldn’t have the lost heir turning up out of nowhere. ”
There was a short silence after this. The men on horseback exchanged meaningful looks with each other, and Brendan guessed that they’d discussed this inevitable outcome more than once.
I know what it’s like to live with fear like that.
“Ye could save us, Brendan,” Noah said quietly. “I know why ye ran, but if ye come back now, ye can stop the bloodshed. I’ll help ye. We can stand up against yer father together, ye and me. We were never strong enough before, but now?” He gave a small, wry smile. “Now, it’s different.”
Brendan closed his eyes.
“Perhaps ye are right.”
He sensed excitement building inside Noah.
“I’ve thought it over,” Noah pressed. “I’ve thought of it every which way. This is what we have to do, lad. Will ye come with us?”
Brendan breathed out, opening his eyes and fixing Noah with a stare.
“Not yet. I need a moment to take care of things here. There’s work for me to do.”
Noah seemed a little more uncertain now. “Ye want me to wait?”
“No, go on back to the Keep. I’ll come to ye soon, but in my own time. Ye are asking me to give up my life, so a few days is not too much to ask, aye?”
Noah shifted from foot to foot, glancing over his shoulder back at his men. “We came all this way.”
“I know, lad, I know. But let me take care of things, as I said, and then I’ll come. Can’t say fairer than that, can ye?”
The other man pursed his lips, as if he thought the exact opposite. Brendan waited carefully, forcing himself to stay quiet. He wanted to keep talking, to fill the silence, to just talk, but that would do more harm than good.
Patience is what’s needed now. Hold yer nerve.
Noah raised his eyes, looking Brendan full in the face.
“So, if I go back now, ye will come to us in the Keep? Ye promise ye will come?”
“Aye, I’ll come,” Brendan lied.
Of course, he wasn’t going to go back to Keep Grahame. Even if they could unseat his father—which was a long shot, as the man was clever, vicious, and a dangerous tactician—it was more than likely that Brendan himself would be assassinated sooner rather than later.
How many assassination attempts had Laird Grahame himself dodged? Clan Grahame was the largest and most vicious in the Highlands, everybody knew that. Power corrupts, and whoever held the title of Laird Grahame held the most power in Scotland. Everybody wanted a piece of it.
Noah held his gaze for a few long moments, then exhaled slowly, nodding.
“Very well. Very well, Brendan, I’ll trust ye. Let’s shake on it.”
He extended his hand, and Brendan hesitated, just for an instant.
He felt the urge to glance over at the barn, where hopefully Freya was hiding.
He prayed that she’d hidden herself in the hayloft or near the back of the barn, where their conversation would only be a distant, muffled hum that she couldn’t quite make out.
In his heart, though, Brendan knew the truth.
Freya had heard all of it. He’d bet his life on it.
He took Noah’s hand, barely missing a beat. He hoped that Noah hadn’t noticed his hesitation. When he glanced up at his old friend’s face, he saw only relief and hope there.
Noah is only seeing what he wants to see. He believes that I’ll keep my word because he so desperately wants it to be true.
A small mistake, but a serious one. I’ve had my own judgement clouded before.
Hopefully, he’ll learn from this mistake.
“I’ll see ye there, then,” Brendan said, swallowing down the bitter sting of guilt.
He’ll forgive me, surely? He’ll understand.
“Of course,” Noah said, smiling. He clicked to his horse, which came plodding obediently towards him. “I’m glad we came to an agreement.”
“As am I.”
A few of Noah’s men were staring at Brendan, their expressions closed and unreadable.
They don’t believe me, Brendan realized in a sickening, guilty rush. They think I’m nothing but a liar.
Just like my father.
Except, of course, I’m a coward, too.
Noah wheeled his horse around and nodded to Brendan. He spurred forward, and his men followed. Just like that, they thundered out of the clearing and into the forest, disappearing from sight.
Brendan exhaled a long sigh of relief. He waited a moment, to be sure that they weren’t going to unexpectedly come back, and then strode over to the barn.
It was silent inside, only the sounds of shifting animals filling the air. Argentum pushed past his legs, tail wagging, and trotted over to where Freya sat in a corner, on an upturned barrel.
“It’s safe to come out,” Brendan said. “They’ve gone.”
“I wondered if ye would try to tell me a lie about why they are here,” Freya said dispassionately, gaze fixed on the ground. “What’s one more lie, eh?”
He flinched. “I-I don’t know what ye heard, Freya, but—”
She rose to her feet. “I heard enough. Ye are Laird Grahame’s son. His only heir.”
“That’s not who I am, Freya,” he tried, groping for the words. “I fled as soon as I could. I’ll never go back, no matter what Noah says.”
“Ye don’t understand,” Freya snapped. “All that bloodshed, all that madness. Could ye really stop it, if ye went back?”
He paused. This was unexpected.
“Do ye think I should go back? I don’t want to be laird. I never did.”
“Nobody wants it, nobody except the mad and power-hungry. Ye have it in yer power to save yer people, and ye won’t do it.
” She gave a short, mirthless laugh, shaking her head.
“I don’t know what hurts me more. The fact ye have done nothing but lie to me since we met, or the fact ye won’t lift a finger to save yer clan.
Ye fled from yer father, but he still has ye in thrall, doesn’t he? ”
The stung. “I’m not in his thrall,” Brendan responded harshly. “I don’t care to hear ye say that. Ye knew right from the beginning that I had secrets, that there were things I wasn’t going to tell ye yet. Ye told me that it didn’t matter.”
She shook her head. “I understand holding a secret like this. I’m not a fool.
I know why ye didn’t tell me. It hurts to know that ye didn’t trust me, but I understand that trust needs to be earned.
But will ye truly not help yer people? If ye unseating Laird Grahame and taking his place is what they need, then why not do it? ”
“It’s not so easy.”
“I didn’t say it was easy. I said it was the right thing to do. I hate the word, but is it not yer duty?”
Brendan clenched his fists, swallowing hard. Anger and guilt bubbled up inside him. He’d lied, over and over again. What was one more lie to Noah’s face? They didn’t understand, none of them.
Why must I fix all of this? I don’t even know if I can.
I can’t do it.
Words began spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them, or even think twice about what he was saying.
“If ye want to talk about duty,” Brendan snarled, “ye ran away from yer own duty, too. If ye think ye should do whatever needs to be done to save yer people, why did ye not stay and marry Laird Grahame? Perhaps ye should go back.”
She flinched backwards as if he’d slapped her, the color draining from her face.
“Ye don’t mean that,” she whispered. “Ye can’t think that.”
Of course, he didn’t mean it. Of course not.
Brendan willed himself to speak, to say something, to apologize, but his tongue seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth, and the words wouldn’t come out.
Despite the words spilling out earlier like beer from a leaky barrel, his tongue now seemed to be tied into a knot, refusing to help him.
Freya stared at him for a long moment. It could only have been a second or two of silence, but it seemed to last forever.
Then she turned away, and Brendan knew he’d made a mistake. He’d lost his opportunity to speak.
“I have to go,” she muttered shakily. “I’ve been gone too long. They’ll be worried about me back at the convent.”
Brendan found his tongue again. “Freya, wait. I didn’t mean what I said.”
He reached out to take her hand, but she jerked her arm away from him.
“No, ye did. I’m too tired to argue with ye, Brendan. Keep the wound clean. Make a paste with the herbs I’ve left out for ye, and reapply it every day until the wound is starting to knit together.”
She made to push past him, and without thinking, Brendan put his arm across the door, at her eye level. She glanced up at him, face blank.
“Move.”
“I’ll not let us part on these terms.”
She gave a harsh laugh. “That’s not yer decision to make, Brendan. Move. Let me go.”
“I can’t,” he found himself saying, the words catching in his throat. “Ye are mine, Freya. Please stay with me.”
Her gaze softened, just for an instant. At that moment, he was sure she was going to stay. She would listen to him, he would explain and apologize, and she would see that he couldn't go back, he just couldn’t. Everything would be well between them.
Then the moment was gone. Before he could react, she ducked under his outstretched arm, striding forward.
“For future reference, Brendan Grahame,” she said, voice tight and hard, “I do not belong to ye, or to yer father, or to my father. I am me, and nobody owns me. I come and go as I please. Don’t ever get in my way again, or ye will be sorry.”
“Freya, please. Freya!”
She broke into a run, racing away into the forest. Argentum followed her, barking, then returned with his tail between his legs when Brendan clicked his fingers.
Brendan was left standing by himself, silence pressing in all around him. Argentum sat on his heels, whining.
“I know, lad,” Brendan whispered. “I know.”