Chapter 9
“It was a rough winter, me Laird,” said the man standing before them.
He was young, only a little older than River herself, with an unruly mop of red hair and skin reddened from the sun.
“Production has increased now but we have nae reserves until we can harvest this crop. And it’s nae only me. ..it’s everyone in the village.”
There were a few murmurs of assent among the peasants who had come to the castle, and River could only assume they were all from the same village—or perhaps more than one village was facing the same problem.
“The frost,” said the man next to him, “it killed the last of the harvest last autumn and then we had an issue with the pests, as ye ken. We daenae have enough food to last us.”
“Did we nae give them supplies?” Archer asked Keir, who was standing right behind him, in a low voice. Only River heard him, and only River heard Keir’s response when he leaned closer to speak in Archer’s ear.
“We did,” he said. “This is the third time they come here to ask for help.”
“Then that means they need more,” River pointed out. “It means we havenae given them enough.”
“There was plenty of grain,” said Keir and then he straightened again, looking at the two men. “What happened to the sacks of grain we gave ye?”
“Our village has grown, sir,” said the first man. “Many merchants pass through and many men and women have come to find their fortune here. Many more bairns, too.”
“Since the last time we visited?” asked Keir.
“Och aye,” said the man. “We have doubled in the last six months.”
“Then a visit to yer village is necessary,” said River. “We must welcome those who have come and we must see what we can do to help.”
The entire Great Hall fell silent. River felt every eye in the room on her, watching, scrutinizing. When she turned to Archer to see if he, too, was looking at her, she indeed found him staring with a small frown between his brows.
Was he mad she had taken over? But isn’t this why he had brought her here in the first place?
Or am I meant to be silent, seen by his side but unheard?
That was not something that River would allow. She had been keeping herself away from household matters for the past year but if Archer wanted her here, by his side, then she was not going to be silent.
“Aye, that’s true,” said Archer. “If things have changed so rapidly, we must support the village in any way we can. Keir, give the men some grain and arrange for a visit.”
“Aye, me Laird,” said Keir, and immediately turned around to begin arranging everything for them.
More peasants came, along with some merchants and clansmen.
Their complaints ranged from food scarcity to difficult travels through the mountains and from the presence of English troops to the weakening of their positions as English oppression persisted.
River listened to them all and helped where she could.
Though she had always been aware of the political strife in the Highlands, she had never known just how dire the situation was.
Clansmen were losing their positions. Men were forcibly drafted into the English army.
Clan bonds weakened and those who were even suspected for rebellion were taken and tortured.
And the more River sat there, the more she paled, her heartbeat stuttering with every tale of atrocity she heard.
We must vow to never let these people suffer again.
And yet she felt so helpless. What was there for her to do? How could she fight the entire English army? Not even Archer could do that; not on his own.
So, she helped where she could, handing out grain from the castle’s reserves, promising to train more healers for the far-off villages, and taking note of every problem she and Archer could fix together.
By the end of it, she was exhausted, trying to keep track of every single grievance, no matter how small. As the people filed out of the Great Hall, Archer offered her his hand and, after a moment of hesitation, River took it.
“Ye did well today,” he said as he led her out of the room from the back door. “I was...impressed. For someone who doesnae involve herself in such matters, ye certainly ken what to do.”
“I was trained,” River said with a small shrug. “I sat with me faither sometimes and, later, with me brother. They wanted me to ken how to please the people.”
“And please them ye have,” said Archer, before leaning closer. Though in this small corridor that led to the northern wing, there was no one but the two of them, the gesture still felt entirely too intimate. “And ye have pleased me.”
Heat exploded in River’s core—and her cheeks. Archer’s breath ghosted over her face, making her own hitch in her throat. She looked up at him and immediately realized it was a mistake.
He was looking right into her eyes, as if he could see into the very depths of her; as if he could see right into her thoughts.
“I must go,” River mumbled, pushing past Archer. She didn’t even give him an excuse; she couldn’t come up with one, not when she was so flustered.
She didn’t turn back to look at him. She only rushed down the corridor, eager for a swift escape.
It was a dreary day, and this time, it didn’t seem like the storm would let up. Fat droplets of rain fell against the windows and the stone walls of Castle O’Douglas, their rhythmic pattering almost hypnotic. The sky outside was the gray of a blade, the clouds thick like smoke.
River sat with Arya and Colby in her sitting room, near the window that provided them some light. Finlay, always present, sat on the couch, sharpening a small blade as the rest of them drew on loose pieces of paper.
All in all, it had been a quiet morning, until Arya said, “Will ye have bairns with the Laird now?”
River paused, glancing at Arya from the corner of her eye. What could have possibly possessed her to ask this, she wondered? What thoughts were running behind her eyes?
“Nay,” said River, shaking her head. “I have nae intention of doin’ such a thing.”
Colby stared at them both. Even Finlay had stopped sharpening the blade, and though he hadn’t turned to look at them, River knew he was paying attention.
“But ye seem...different,” said Arya. “He seems different. With ye.”
River swallowed in a dry throat. “Naethin’ has changed, trust me.”
It was a lie, but one delivered expertly. Though even River herself couldn’t quite say what it was that had changed between them. She saw him more often now; that much was true. But apart from that—and apart from that persistent head in her core every time she saw him—nothing else had changed.
“If ye have bairns with him,” said Arya after a small pause, “does that mean ye’ll send us away?”
River gasped, her breath cut short. Almost before Arya had even finished her sentence, River rushed to her and gathered her and Colby into her arms.
“I will never send ye away,” she said firmly, looking into both of their eyes. “Never. Nae matter what happens, we’ll always be together, aye?”
Slowly, almost reluctantly, Arya smiled and nodded, comforted by River’s words.
“Ye promise?” Colby asked.
“I promise,” said River. “Nae matter what.”
Satisfied by her answer, the children hugged her and ran off to play, chasing each other around the room. River watched them with a small smile, thinking how anyone could ever think she would send them away. They were her whole life now; they were the reason she kept going every day.
“Me lady,” Finlay called softly from the couch, and River joined him there, perching on the seat. “I’ve been meanin’ to tell ye...ye should be more wary of Laird O’Douglas.”
River couldn’t help the frown that formed on her face. “Wary of him? Why?”
She was cautious, of course. She knew what kind of man Archer was, so she also knew there wasn’t any real danger. For one, he had never hurt her, nor had he shown her any desire to do so. But he had also never lied to her. He had been upfront from the start, even about the worst parts of him.
Unless he’s lyin’ now...but why would he do such a thing?
“The man has a way with words,” said Finlay, with clear disdain. “I wouldnae want ye to do somethin’ ye’ll...regret.”
River couldn’t help but chuckle, but Finlay remained perfectly serious, and she soon realized he wasn’t joking.
“Finlay...thank ye for yer concern, but I daenae see what the Laird could say to me to change me mind,” she said. “Daenae fash. I ken who he is. I ken who he truly is.”
“Good,” said Finlay, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Good, because I willnae hesitate to act if need be.”
“That willnae be necessary,” River assured him—and warned him at the same time. “The Laird isnae doin’ anythin’ to bother me.”
Once again, Finlay didn’t seem convinced, but he dropped the matter. Still, River had the sense that he would start keeping an even closer eye to her, paranoid as the man was.
Ever since her mother’s death, Finlay had become even more protective of her. Perhaps it was misplaced guilt, River thought, for not being able to save her. Perhaps he thought her fragile now. Perhaps he worried that something would happen to her, too.
But as long as she was in Castle O’Douglas, River doubted anything bad would happen to her.
The first thing River saw when she opened the door that night was Archer’s deep frown.
The man seemed to be perpetually angry and perpetually confused—though she supposed the latter was to be expected.
He all but growled at her as he stepped past her and entered her sitting room, before standing in the middle as if he didn’t know what to do next.
“I didnae plan for us to have our second night so soon,” he grumbled. “But ye gave me nae choice.”
This man and his cursed plans! Everythin’ is a plan with him!
At least River seemed to have ruined whatever his plan was. That gave her some satisfaction, knowing that she could sabotage the plans that he so carefully made about the two of them.
“What was yer plan, then?” River asked as she sat on the couch, watching him stand there.