Chapter 22
The corridor outside the dungeon felt colder than the cell itself. Baird climbed the stone steps with each footfall heavier than the last, as the scout’s words echoed behind his ribs like a curse carved into bone.
He emerged into the keep’s hall, where torchlight flickered warm against the walls, but warmth did nothing to reach him. Kenny stood at the top of the stairs, waiting.
“What did he say?” Kenny asked quietly.
Baird brushed past him. “Naething useful.”
Kenny frowned. “Baird—”
“I said naething useful,” Baird repeated.
Kenny watched him for a long heartbeat, then nodded, stepping aside. Baird walked on. Every shadow seemed to hold a threat now. Every sound, every movement and every quiet corner felt like a place where betrayal could breathe.
His father’s voice rose in memory, cold and merciless.
Ye never watch close enough, lad. Ye soften. And weakness kills.
He hated that the old ghost still had teeth.
In the great hall, a pair of guards straightened. “Me laird, shall we change the rota fer the south patrol?”
“Aye,” Baird said sharply. “Tighten the shift rotations. Double the number at the north wall. Naebody enters or leaves without me direct approval.”
The guards exchanged glances. “Aye, me laird.”
“And send word tae every gate captain,” Baird added. “Visitors are banned until further notice.”
His tone left no room for argument. The men hurried off.
Kenny followed him still. “Me laird, this’ll rattle the whole keep.”
“Good,” Baird snapped. “Let them be rattled. Mayhap they’ll stop whispering and start paying attention.”
Kenny lowered his voice. “The people will think ye’re expecting war.”
“Maybe they should.”
He didn’t slow as he strode through the hall toward the stairs leading to the private wing. The castle suddenly felt too open and too unguarded. He felt every breath of air moving through the passageways, every door ajar, every shadow that stretched longer than necessary.
When he reached the chamber he shared with Davina, he paused only long enough to school his expression. He would not bring the dungeon stench or his fear into her world.
He stepped inside. Davina was standing stood by the window, with her hair half-braided and the morning sun painting her in soft gold. When she turned, concern etched her features instantly.
“Baird,” she asked gently. “What happened below? Ye look—”
“I’m fine.” He walked past her, shrugging out of his coat.
She blinked. “Clearly ye’re nae. Please just tell me what the prisoner said.”
“Nay.”
The single word hung sharp in the air.
Davina took a step toward him. “Baird, I’m only trying tae understand. Ye came back pale as a wraith—”
“I said nay,” he repeated, not raising his voice, but hardening it. “There are matters ye dinnae need tae carry.”
She flinched barely perceptibly, but he felt it, like a shift in the room’s temperature.
“I’m yer wife,” she reminded him softly. “I wish ye’d trust me enough tae—”
“This is nae about trust.” He turned away, facing the hearth. “It’s about safety.”
“Mine?” she asked.
“Aye.”
“And ye think keeping me at a distance is safe?”
He clenched his jaw. Silence answered for him.
Davina’s voice lowered. “Ye’re shutting me out.”
“I’m protecting ye.”
“From what?”
He didn’t dare answer. How could he, when the truth was that danger breathed through every crack of the keep? And it was he himself who had invited it by failing to see what had been happening tae Malcolm.
“Stay in the chamber today,” he said instead. “Until I say otherwise.”
She stared at him with her wide, doe-like eyes. “Ye’re banishing me tae the room like a bairn?”
“I’m keeping ye alive,” he said, feeling overcome with exhaustion. “If ye’d seen what I have—”
“But I have nae,” she whispered. “Because ye will nae tell me.”
He didn’t respond. Her eyes shone not with tears, but with something worse: hurt held quietly and carefully, so he wouldn’t feel its weight. She stepped back from him.
“If this is how ye mean tae keep me safe,” she murmured, “I dinnae ken what place ye expect me tae hold in yer life.”
He closed his eyes briefly. He wanted to reach for her, to say something that would ease the fracture widening between them.
“Guards will stand outside the door. Dinnae leave,” he told her instead.
Davina inhaled sharply as though struck. “Baird—”
He couldn’t face the plea in her voice. He couldn’t risk the softness she brought out in him, not when softness had cost Malcolm his life, and might cost Davina hers.
He turned toward the door.
“Baird,” she called again, more quietly now. “Please, talk tae me.”
He froze, just for a heartbeat. But he knew what he had to do, no matter how painful it was.
“Nay,” he said, and walked out.
The door shut behind him with a soft click that felt like a blade sliding into place, locking a barrier, a prison, a punishment he knew she didn’t deserve.
But he couldn’t afford gentleness. There were traitors in his walls, and his father’s shadow whispering failure.
Most importantly, Davina’s own safety was hanging in the balance.
So, he did what he had been taught to do… he shut every feeling away and became iron.
The door clicked shut behind him.
It was such a small, soft sound, yet it seemed to echo through Davina’s bones, sealing her in a chamber that suddenly felt too large and too tight all at once. She stood rooted to the spot, staring at the place where Baird had stood only moments ago.
He was looking through her, not at her, as though she were another burden, not his wife, as though letting her close might unravel him entirely.
Davina drew a breath, but it shuddered on the way out. She pressed a hand to her ribs, steadying herself.
It’s about safety, he had said.
But what good was being safe if she was kept shut away, cut off from him, from the truth? Her gaze drifted to the window. Beyond the glass, guards were changing position in the courtyard, and men were glancing toward the keep as though expecting danger to come at any moment.
Baird’s fear seeped into every corner of the castle now. She felt it in the tightened patrols. She heard it in the clipped voices. She saw it in the haunted lines around her husband’s eyes.
Fear of losing a loved one… fear of failing again…
Her heart clenched. If grief built walls, then Baird was living in a fortress that was cold, impenetrable, and carved from old wounds she could not yet reach. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the weight of helplessness settle like a stone.
A quiet knock stirred the stillness.
“Me lady?” came Ailis’s gentle voice. “May I come in?”
Davina blinked, pulling herself together. “Aye. Please.”
Ailis slipped inside with a tray in hand, carrying tea, oatcakes and a slice of honeyed bread. It was comfort on a wooden platter. Her eyes swept Davina’s face, and she understood everything immediately.
“Oh, me lady,” Ailis murmured. “Ye’ve the look of someone who’s been told tae swallow the whole world at once.”
Davina let out a weak, humorless laugh. “It feels like I’ve swallowed naught but stones.”
Ailis set the tray down and came closer. “Sit, then. Talk if ye can. I’ve ears better than most walls.”
Davina sank onto the edge of the bed. Ailis perched beside her, waiting with patient attentiveness.
“He will nae speak tae me,” Davina said at last. “Something happened below, something that’s eaten him alive. And instead of letting me help, he banished me tae the chamber as though I were a bairn.”
Ailis nodded slowly. “I’ve seen that look in a man. He’s frightened.”
Davina frowned. “Baird? He’d rather lose a limb than admit fear.”
“Aye,” Ailis said. “And that’s the trouble of it.”
Davina rubbed at her temples. “He’s shut every door between us. I dinnae ken how tae reach him.”
Ailis sighed, the sound filled with old understanding. “We all carry past and guilt like a heavy burden.” It appeared that Ailis wanted to share something else, something deeper, but she changed her mind at the last moment.
Davina stared at the fire grate, where embers glowed dully. “I want tae help him. I want tae stand beside him. But he treats me as if I were glass.”
“Because he thinks everything breaks,” Ailis explained. “People, peace, family… even himself. And he thinks if he keeps ye behind walls, ye’ll be safe from whatever’s coming.”
Davina whispered. “But safety without trust is nae safety at all.”
“Aye,” Ailis murmured, placing a warm hand over Davina’s. “Then help him see that. But gently, me lady. A man’s heart is a fortress when it’s been battered all its life. Ye’ll need more than force tae open its gates.”
Davina let those words settle, fragile yet hopeful. But as she looked toward the door Baird had closed on her, she felt the walls of the keep closing in, too, leaving her in stone and shadow, grief and silence.
A fortress was meant to protect her. But that same fortress might very well destroy them both if she could not find her way through.