Chapter 23
For three days, the keep held its breath.
The wind whipped across the cliffs, rattling shutters and howling through arrow slits, but inside the castle the air was strung like a bowstring ready to snap.
Baird felt it in every step of the stone corridors, every glance from his men, and every low murmur that cut off the moment he passed.
He welcomed the silence. It mirrored the one inside him.
He strode along the battlements as dawn bled into the sky, with the horizon nothing but a cold line of steel and smoke. His cloak snapped behind him in the wind, but he barely felt it. Everything in him was honed sharp.
Kenny approached from the far end of the wall. “Patrol reported movement by the old bridge,” he said. “Could be nothing. Could be another Sinclair scout.”
“It’s something,” Baird replied, with his eyes fixed on the distant ridge. “I’ll ride out.”
Kenny frowned. “Alone again?”
“Aye.”
“That’s unwise, laird.”
“So is letting Sinclairs crawl under me nose.” Baird cut him a sideways look. “Have me horse prepared.”
Kenny hesitated, then gave a curt nod. “As ye say.”
Baird walked on, as the rising light revealed the courtyard far below. It was a constant chaos of guards changing shifts, stable hands brushing frost from the horses and smoke curling from the kitchens.
And Davina.
He spotted her in a far corner of the courtyard, wrapped in a shawl, speaking with Ailis. Her posture was stiff. She reminded him of a bird in too small a cage. She did not look up. Baird jerked his eyes away before the ache in his chest could sharpen further.
Distance is safety.
That was the lie he repeated until it hardened into truth.
When he reached the stairs, he descended quickly, heading toward the yard where Kenny held the reins of his horse.
“Before ye go,” Kenny said, voice low, “the Council’s been asking questions about the guards, about the ban on visitors, and about why ye’ve sealed off half the damned keep.”
“They’ll have answers when I have answers,” Baird replied.
“That’ll nae hold them much longer.”
Baird mounted, settling into the saddle with practiced ease. “Then they can stew in their doubts. I care nae.”
Kenny stepped closer. “Baird… cook told me ye have nae eaten since yesterday morn. Ye’re running yerself tae the bone.”
Baird’s voice cut like frost. “I said I care nae.”
Kenny’s expression hardened. His frustration was rising. “This isnae strength, laird. This is punishment.”
Baird pulled the reins tight. “And who says I dinnae deserve it?”
Kenny stared at him, at the hollow look in Baird’s eyes, at the bruised shadow beneath them and at the wound on his arm that had reopened from overuse.
Then Kenny exhaled through his teeth. “Fine. Ride yerself tae death if ye must. But the clan will need ye alive.”
“They’ll manage.”
“Nay,” Kenny said quietly. “They will nae.”
Baird didn’t answer. The wind tore at him as he dug his heels in and rode for the gate, leaving Kenny scowling behind him.
He didn’t ride fast, but he rode far. He rode across the fields, through the tree line, down toward the old bridge where shadows collected in morning mist. He searched for signs of Sinclair intruders, for anything that would give purpose to the storm inside him. But the woods offered nothing.
When he returned, torchlight flickered off the wet stone of the gatehouse. Kenny met him again, with his arms crossed.
“Find anything?”
“Nay.”
Kenny nodded once. “The Council requested yer presence.”
“They can wait until morning.” Baird swung down from the saddle, wincing as his arm pulled.
“And Davina?” Kenny asked, more softly now.
Baird froze.
“She’s keeping tae her chamber. Ailis says she’s worrying. Dinnae ye think ye should—”
“Nay.” Baird’s voice was a blade. “I will nae drag her intae this.”
Kenny sighed. “She’s already in it, whether ye speak tae her or nae.”
Baird walked past him. “Nae if I can help it.”
He did not look toward the chamber windows as he crossed the courtyard. He did not allow himself to imagine whether she was awake, whether she was watching from behind the curtains, whether she wondered if he still thought of her.
He stepped into the keep, and the heavy door boomed shut behind him like a final pronouncement. He spent the night pacing the war room, reviewing patrol routes, and sharpening his father’s old knife until the blade gleamed cruelly in the firelight.
Only once did he pause. Only once did he glance toward the staircase that led to the chambers he shared with Davina.
But he did not climb it. He could not.
So, he locked the door of the war room, shut out the world, and buried himself in maps and fear and silence.
Davina had not meant to wander beyond the solar, not with guards shadowing her and Baird’s order still painfully echoing in her ears.
But frustration had brewed for days. It felt like a tightening, simmering chain, pressing against her ribs until she felt she might split open if she stayed another moment indoors.
That was why she walked the corridor toward the courtyard, hoping merely for air. And that was when she saw him.
Baird was standing near the stables, with his cloak thrown around his shoulders, tightening the strap around his wounded arm as he prepared to ride out yet again. His horse stamped impatiently beside him.
He had not seen her. In a way, he never seemed to see her anymore.
Something inside of her snapped. She stepped forward before she fully knew what she was doing. “Baird!”
He stiffened, looking over his shoulder. For the first time in days, their eyes met and his expression closed instantly, as though shutters slammed down behind his gaze.
“Ye should be indoors,” he said simply. “It’s nae safe out here.”
“I dinnae care,” Davina shot back, marching across the courtyard. “I’ve something tae say.”
“Davina, I’ve nae the time—” he began.
“Then ye’ll make time.”
Baird blinked. She rarely used that commanding tone with him, but she felt it rising now, as all the hurt heaped over days of silence bursting like a dam.
“What is it?” he demanded.
Her breath hitched. “Ye’ve ordered the guards about until they’re practically tripping over themselves tae please ye. Ye’ve tightened every patrol, banned every visitor, and shut yerself away from the entire keep—”
“They are necessary precautions,” he cut in.
“And what precautions keep me safe, Baird? Being locked in me room like a prisoner? Having guards at me door as if I might bolt? Being ignored by me own husband fer days with nay explanation?”
“I’ve already told ye that these are necessary things tae keep everyone safe, most of all ye,” he squeezed through clenched teeth, both of them aware that they were making a spectacle, but she didn’t care about that.
All she cared about was receiving a single moment of her husband’s attention, even if that meant shouting at him.
She stepped closer. “That’s exactly the point, Baird. Ye keep saying ye’re protecting me, but ye willnae look at me. Ye willnae talk tae me. Ye willnae even stand in the same room with me unless forced.”
He flinched barely, but she saw it.
“Davina—”
“Nay,” she said, voice trembling. “Nay excuses. I deserve the truth.”
His throat worked, but he said nothing.
Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “Ye’ve shut me out completely. Dae ye ken how that feels? Tae be yer wife in name only? Tae see ye walk past me as if I’m naething but a shadow?”
Baird’s breath came rough. “I’m daeing what must be done, Davina.”
“By pushing me away?”
“By keeping ye alive!” he snapped, louder than she had ever heard him. Several stablehands froze, pretending not to listen.
Davina stepped forward. She could feel her entire body trembling, not just her voice. “But I’m alive, Baird. I’m right here. And ye willnae let me stand beside ye.”
He tore his gaze away, staring past her into some unseen darkness. “Ye dinnae understand.”
“Then explain it tae me.”
His silence was a wound.
That was when her voice broke. “If ye push me away, Baird… I dinnae ken how long I can keep reaching fer ye.”
That struck him. She saw it in a flash of something pained, raw and unguarded before he slammed it down again.
“Well,” he said hoarsely, “mayhap ye should stop reaching.”
The world tilted. Davina’s breath left her in a silent gasp. Her vision blurred, not with tears but with that utter, crushing shock at the cruelty he hadn’t meant to speak.
His face changed the moment the words left him, and regret flooded in, but it was too late.
“Davina… I—”
“Go,” she whispered, and the word felt like cracked glass.
He reached for her instinctively, but she stepped back.
“Go,” she repeated.
He swallowed hard, and there was agony flickering in his eyes. Then he jerked the reins, swung into the saddle, and forced his horse forward with more force than necessary. He didn’t look back.
Davina stood alone, with her every breath shaking. The keep that had once felt cavernous now felt colder still, and the shadows were drawing close around her like a tightening noose.