Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The council chamber felt much smaller than usual, not in size, but in weight.
Torches burned low against the stone walls, their light steady but dim, casting shadows that seemed to press inward rather than stretch outward.
The long wooden table stood at the center, worn smooth by years of decisions. Duncan stood at the head of it. Around him, the council murmurs were rising and falling in quiet uncertainty as word of the summons had spread quickly, but not the reason for it.
Iain stood to his right, silent and watchful. Just like everyone else, he, too, was waiting.
Duncan let the quiet settle before he spoke. What he had to say would not be received lightly.
“There has been a breach within our walls,” he said at last.
The room stilled. Every voice fell silent. Duncan’s gaze moved over them, trying to read every face.
“One of our own,” he continued, “has been working against us.”
The reaction was immediate.
“What?” one of the older men demanded, his voice sharp with disbelief. “That is nae possible.”
“It is,” Duncan revealed in a tone that left no room for doubt. “The guard assigned tae watch over the healer betrayed his post. He aided men, who came with the intent tae take her, intae our land.”
A ripple of alarm moved through the room.
“MacKenzie,” another council member muttered, his face darkening. “It must be.”
Duncan gave a slight nod. “It is.”
The weight of that settled heavily.
“He is closer than we believed,” Duncan went on. “Hiding within the town. Moving frequently enough tae avoid being found. But he is here.”
The murmurs grew louder now. There was unease, anger, disbelief all mixing into something sharper.
“And the guard?” someone asked.
“In the dungeon,” Duncan replied. “He has spoken.”
That quieted them again.
“What did he say?” the same man inquired again.
Duncan’s jaw tightened slightly. “He confirmed what we suspected. MacKenzie’s intent is nae simply tae locate her.” He paused again, to let the information settle. “He means tae abduct her and kill anyone who stands in the way.”
The words settled like iron in the room and the reaction was swift and sharp.
“That settles it,” one of the elders said, his voice cutting through the silence. “She cannae remain here.”
“Aye,” another agreed immediately. “If MacKenzie is already within reach, keeping her inside these walls only invites him tae strike again.”
Murmurs spread around the table, no longer uncertain but urgent for action.
“This is nae longer about one woman,” a third added, leaning forward. “It is about the safety of the entire clan. If he attacks the castle—”
“He will,” someone else interrupted grimly. “We ken that much. And when he does, he will nae come quietly.”
Duncan remained still. He knew better than to interrupt men who were under the impression of fear. They needed to voice it out of themselves, and only then would they be able to think rationally again. So, he listened and measured.
“She must be moved,” the first man insisted. “Sent somewhere he would nae think tae look. Away from here, away from us.”
“Or handed over,” another voice muttered more quietly, but not enough.
The words hung in the air, dangerous enough to cut. Iain’s head snapped toward the speaker, but Duncan moved first.
“Say that again,” Duncan snarled.
The man hesitated, then straightened slightly under the weight of Duncan’s gaze.
“I said,” he began more carefully, “that perhaps it would be wiser tae consider… alternatives. If MacKenzie wants her, and her presence here endangers us all—”
“Ye would give her tae him.”
It was not a question.
The man faltered. “I… would protect this clan.”
Duncan stepped forward slowly, his presence drawing every eye to him.
“She is under me protection,” he said. Each word was deliberate and unyielding. “And I dinnae trade what is mine tae protect.”
The meaning was clear. Still, the tension did not ease.
“Me laird,” one of the elders said, more cautiously now, “nay one here questions yer loyalty. But we must think of the greater good. If MacKenzie is drawn here because of her—”
“He is drawn here because of me,” Duncan interrupted.
That stilled them completely, because they all knew, just like he did, that those words were true.
Duncan’s gaze moved across the table.
“MacKenzie has wanted these lands fer years,” he continued. “Dinnae pretend this begins and ends with her. She is a means, nae the cause.”
Duncan let the silence linger.
“There is something else ye should ken.”
That drew their attention immediately.
“I received a letter,” he revealed. “From Laird Fraser.”
The reaction was immediate.
“Fraser?” one of the elders repeated, brows drawing together. “What business daes he have writing tae ye now?”
Duncan did not hesitate. “He has withdrawn his support from MacKenzie,” he told them. “Or claims tae. He nay longer intends tae betroth his daughter to him.”
That stirred the room. Murmurs rose, sharp with interest now and with calculation.
“And?” another pressed. “What daes he want in return?”
Duncan’s jaw tightened slightly.
“An alliance,” he divulged. “Through marriage.”
The room stilled. For a fraction of a moment, no one spoke. Then, there seemed to be a collective understanding. The silence broke at once.
“This changes everything,” an elder said, leaning forward. “If Fraser stands with us instead of MacKenzie—”
“MacKenzie loses half his strength,” another finished.
“And we gain it,” a third added, the urgency in his voice unmistakable now.
Duncan watched them, listening to their murmurs come together, because this was what they had always wanted: an advantage, a way to secure the clan without prolonged conflict.
“The lass is already here,” he pointed out. “Under me protection.”
“What??” exclaimed the oldest council member.
“The healer, Elaina, is Fraser’s daughter. She escaped when she found out she had been promised tae MacKenzie.”
The room filled with gasps and voices one on top of the other.
“Well,” another member agreed. “Then the arrangement is already halfway done.”
Duncan’s expression darkened slightly at that.
“This is the solution we need,” the elder continued. “An alliance with Fraser would strengthen our position immediately. MacKenzie would have tae reconsider any move against us.”
“Or face two clans instead of one,” someone added.
The energy in the room completely transformed from alarm to opportunity.
“This is nay longer a question,” one of them said. “It is the answer.”
Duncan’s gaze sharpened.
“It is an option,” he corrected.
The man faltered slightly but pressed on. “It is the strongest one we have.”
Murmurs of agreement followed.
“Ye have always done what is best fer the clan,” another said. “This would ensure its safety.”
Duncan exhaled slowly, his thoughts tightening. Strategically, they were right. He knew it. He had known it the moment he read the letter. But he had not known that Fraser’s daughter was Elaina. Now, it was no longer just strategy. And that complicated everything.
“I will nae make that decision without speaking tae her,” he told them.
The words cut through the room. H was well aware how unexpected and unconventional they were, because this was not how such matters were handled.
Marriage, especially one bound to alliance and power, had never been a question of the woman’s will.
It was a decision made by men for land, for strength and for survival.
A daughter was given, not asked. Her consent was neither expected nor required, and certainly not weighed against the needs of a clan.
And yet, Duncan had spoken of it as though it were, as though her voice held equal weight, as though her choice mattered.
That was enough to unsettle them. Not simply because he strayed from tradition, but because of what that suggested, that their laird was not looking at this as a purely strategic decision, but that something else had entered into it… something personal.
A few of the Council exchanged glances.
“If I am tae accept such an offer, it will nae be without her consent.” Duncan said, and his voice left no room for argument.
The statement settled heavily, but none of them challenged him outright.
“I will consider it,” he echoed. “Fer now, this meeting is adjourned.”
The Council rose reluctantly, the weight of what had been revealed still lingering as they began to file out. Iain remained. Duncan did not move, because though he had given them an answer, he had not yet given himself one.
The door closed behind the last of them. Duncan’s hands rested against the table, his gaze fixed on the worn grain of the wood as though the answer might be found somewhere within it. The tension in him had not eased. It had only changed direction, coiled tighter beneath the surface.
Iain watched him. He had seen this before, not often, but enough to recognize it.
“What are ye going tae dae?” Iain asked.
Duncan’s jaw tightened slightly. “I said I would consider the offer.”
“Aye,” Iain replied, unimpressed. “And I’ve kenned ye long enough tae ken when that means ye already have.”
“And what dae ye think I should dae?” he asked, finally looking up.
Iain did not hesitate.
“I think,” he said, folding his arms loosely, “that it is the strongest position we’ve been offered in years. An alliance with Fraser weakens MacKenzie and strengthens us. The Council isnae wrong.”
Duncan nodded once. “I ken.”
Iain studied him more closely then, as if trying to understand more.
“But that isnae the only thing ye’re weighing,” he added.
Duncan held his gaze. For a moment, it felt as though he might say it. Might give voice to the truth sitting just beneath the surface, the reason that decision had become something far more complicated than it should have been.
He could still remember the way she looked at him, the way she stood before him and refused to be decided for.
He banished the thought, desperate to focus on the present moment.
“She came tae us fer help,” he said instead, his voice steadying as it settled. “She asked fer protection. We gave it.”
Iain said nothing. He let him continue.
“We cannae turn that intae a trap,” Duncan went on. “We cannae take her in, offer her safety and then decide her future fer her as though she has nay say in it.”
The last thing he wanted was to be like every other man in her life.
“That isnae protection. That is nay different than what she was running from.”
Iain sighed. “Aye… that’s true.”
“That is why her opinion matters,” Duncan pointed out.
It wasn’t about strategy or politics. It was about seeing her as a human being with her own wishes and thoughts and letting her decide for herself.
“She will agree.” Iain suddenly said.
Duncan stilled. The question settled heavier than the rest. He had not allowed himself to consider that, at least not fully.
“If she agrees,” Iain continued, more carefully now, “then ye gain the alliance, and ye honor yer word. There is nay conflict in it.”
Duncan’s gaze dropped briefly before returning to him.
“And if she daesnae?”
Iain shrugged slightly, though there was nothing careless in the motion.
“Then ye’ll dae what ye’ve already decided,” he said simply. “Ye’ll stand by her.”
There was no judgment in his voice and no challenge for the simple fact that Iain knew him better than anyone.
“I will nae force her,” Duncan told him, although his friend already knew that.
“I ken,” Iain replied. “Just make sure that whatever choice ye make… it’s one ye can live with.”
Iain held his gaze a moment longer, then gave a small nod. That was enough. Between them, it always was.