Chapter 19
“Ye look more… like yerself.”
All this time, Callum had been avoiding grabbing a sword. He had been avoiding grabbing a sword, too, knowing he had spent too much time on the battlefield to return to training so soon.
The mere thought of grabbing a sword again had given him pause in the weeks he had been back home. It wasn’t exactly fear, and it wasn’t exactly anger. It was more a weight on his chest that prevented him from acting on any reason to grab a sword again.
But now he was back on the training grounds, just him and Hudson, half training and half wasting time, just because there was nothing else to do. It was a slow day, a Sunday, and the sun was shining. A warm summer day, with only a few clouds to darken the otherwise bright blue sky.
When Hudson had asked him to spar after Mass that morning, Callum had hesitated.
The previous night had left him feeling a little bit better, though he doubted he would ever be back to his old self.
Rhea had held him in her arms all night.
She had stayed with him, patient and quiet through it all, even when he had tried to push her away.
He had needed plenty of coaxing from his friend, but in the end, Hudson had managed to drag him out to the training grounds. And much to his surprise, the moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword, he found that it wasn’t so difficult to bear.
“Do I?” he asked flatly.
If he were being honest, he didn’t want to discuss anything from the previous night with Hudson.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him. Quite the opposite, in fact.
But the moment he had spent with Rhea felt sacred in a way, too intimate for him to share with another, even if it was the man he trusted with his life.
“Ye certainly look more rested,” Hudson noted with a small shrug as he began to circle him.
Callum watched him, turning his head to track his movements, but he didn’t move.
“Have ye been sleepin’ better?”
“I slept better last night.” He kept his answer as vague as he could. “Didnae think it would make that much of a difference.”
“When ye havenae slept for that long, even one night makes a difference,” Hudson said. “Ask me how I ken.”
Callum knew he wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping.
Everyone who had been with him on the battlefield and had survived to tell the tale had been plagued by the same things as him: the nightmares, the sleepless nights, the weight, the nausea.
Everything that came with one’s hands being stained with blood.
Drawing in a deep breath, Hudson lunged for him.
It was a predictable move. Callum pivoted to face him fully, their swords meeting with a clang in the quiet of the morning.
Already, sweat dripped down his brow and back, sticking his shirt to his skin.
Dust rose in the air around them, disturbed by their footsteps.
Every now and then, Callum thought he could smell the metallic scent of blood in the air.
Every now and then, he thought the ground darkened with it right before his eyes.
But there was no blood to speak of. Their blades were dull, not meant to cause harm.
And even if they weren’t, the two of them were not sparring as much as playing, idly swinging their swords and trying to get themselves comfortable with the idea of crossing blades once more.
Another war was bound to come sooner or later. Or if not another war, then at least another attack. For all Callum knew, the next attack would be on the castle. He could not afford to lose his edge with a sword.
No one could. Not him and not his men, who were still training every day. And if they were training every day, then so should he.
“It’s a good thing,” Hudson said as he took a few steps back and rolled his wrist, his sword swinging idly with the movement. “Ye need the rest, Callum.”
“Nae much rest to be had when we’re plannin’ a feast,” Callum grunted, though that was hardly his duty. Rhea and Sienna were the ones organizing it and making sure that everything was ready for the guests. He was in no way or shape involved. He did not want to be.
“Aye?” Hudson chuckled. “Are ye the one pickin’ the flowers and puttin’ up the banners?”
“Is that all ye think there is to a feast?” Callum scoffed as he raised his sword and charged at him.
He moved fast, approaching head-on, but then changed his course at the very last moment. It was a move that worked on everyone—everyone but Hudson, who had seen him use the same tactic countless times.
His friend wasn’t fooled. He quickly parried the blow, then pivoted to the side to avoid the next one, moving fast to score a hit. Callum was fighting in earnest now, if only to keep Hudson from talking about the feast and the previous night.
Hudson jumped back, but Callum was quick to follow, trying to keep him engaged rather than letting him run away. Their swords clashed again and again, Hudson parrying fervently while Callum attacked without stopping.
Within moments, they were both panting, trying to catch their breath. Still, Callum didn’t stop, not until he managed to score a hit, bringing the blade down on Hudson’s shoulder.
“Ow!” Hudson cried, tossing his sword aside to throw himself at Callum.
The force of the collision threw Callum off-balance, and the two of them tumbled to the ground, wheezing.
“Ye wee bastard!”
Callum would have laughed had he not been too preoccupied with trying to overpower Hudson, who was writhing under him in an attempt to toss him off.
It had been a long time since they had last grappled like this, perhaps since they were children, giving little thought to anything but the next moment, the next move.
Most of the time, Callum was thinking ten moves ahead, his mind always racing, always working toward the next problem. But now, nothing mattered to him but the next position of his hands, the next planting of his feet on the ground—anything that would help him push Hudson off.
He had the advantage of size, but Hudson had the advantage of cunning.
He had always been riskier than Callum, always more willing to push himself and everyone around him to their limits.
Once, Callum may have called him crazy. Now, he would probably call him the same, though perhaps with a little more respect.
Using all of his weight, Hudson pinned Callum to the ground, and no matter how much he writhed and bucked, Callum couldn’t push him off. In the end, he went limp, panting hard, drenched in sweat, and cursing Hudson for being a solid wall of muscle.
“Will ye get off me!” he huffed, giving him one last, half-hearted shove.
Hudson laughed in response and rose, offering him a hand, but Callum slapped it away playfully and jumped up to his feet.
“What is the matter with ye?”
“I could ask ye the same,” Hudson said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Why would ye hit me like that?”
“Are we sparrin’, or are we havin’ tea?” Callum drawled.
For a moment, the two of them stared at each other, before devolving into playfighting once more.
Hudson wrapped an arm around his neck as Callum fought against him, planting his hands on his ribs to push him away. They twisted and turned in the middle of the training yard, their feet kicking up more dust until they were covered in it, the soil sticking to their sweaty skin.
Callum felt the calmest he had in ages. There was something comforting about being allowed the time to do this, about fighting with Hudson like they had when they were children, wrestling and grappling until neither of them had the strength to go on.
It kept him from thinking for a bit, kept him from remembering all the men he had lost and futilely trying to foretell what was to come.
After they were finished, they bathed and retired to the study for the afternoon, each with a cup of wine in hand.
Callum was exhausted, his entire body aching with the effort he had put into the morning’s activities.
Perhaps he would get another good night’s sleep, though he had been tired before, and exhaustion hadn’t worked to keep the nightmares away.
The only thing that worked was Rhea. The only thing that kept the nightmares away was sleepin’ by her side.
But he didn’t have it in him to ask her to sleep in his chambers again. Accepting it when it was offered was one thing; actively asking for it was entirely another.
“I hate the castle before a celebration,” Hudson said suddenly, breaking the silence and pulling Callum out of his thoughts. He was staring at the fire in the grate, the logs long since burned out, nothing but embers warming the room.
Callum had half a mind to get up and feed the flames, but a strange inertia kept him rooted in his chair, sunk in the plush leather.
“Too much… too much noise,” Hudson added.
Calum listened to the crackle of the fire and the whistle of the wind outside the window that overlooked the courtyard. There was noise as the servants bustled about, that much was true, but it wasn’t the kind of noise that bothered him.
The people that would soon gather in the castle were a different story.
“It’s nae that bad,” he said with a small shrug. “I’m sure we used to make much more noise as bairns.”
Hudson laughed softly, shaking his head. “Aye, but it didnae bother me then.”
“I daenae recall the noise botherin’ ye in the past either,” Callum noted.
Hudson’s lips twitched. “Let an old man have his quirks.”
“What am I if ye’re old?” Callum snorted.
For a long time, Hudson didn’t speak. He only kept staring at the burning coals left on the grille. But when he did speak, he truly sounded older, as if he had suddenly aged decades.
“It’s this war, Callum,” he said, sounding distant, as if he had been thrust back into the battlefield. “Ye ken it as well as I do. It changes ye.”
Callum couldn’t argue with that. No one had been spared from the horrors of war, not even Hudson, who was more often than not filled with joy and so carefree that Callum either envied him or was annoyed by his optimism.
Knowing that he was the one who had led him to war, who had leeched that joy from him, was another spear to the heart.
“Does it get better, do ye reckon?” Hudson asked, watching the red wine in his cup as he swirled it idly. “It must, right? Wars happen all the time. It must get better.”
“I daenae ken,” Callum replied sincerely.
He wanted to believe it did. He wanted to believe that they would all wake up one day and hold no worry in their hearts, no grief. People said that time healed all wounds, after all. But at that moment, healing felt impossible.
Hudson hummed thoughtfully before falling silent again. When his gaze met Callum’s, there was a hint of playfulness in it, though he was nothing like his usual self. “Well, at least Rhea seems to be helpin’ ye with it all.”
Callum grunted in response as he downed the rest of his drink.
That made Hudson laugh, and for that, Callum was grateful.
“Come now,” Hudson pressed. “I ken ye better than ye ken yerself. Did ye truly think I wouldnae figure it out?”
“I was hopin’ ye would have the decency to nae talk about it,” Callum retorted.
“When have I ever been decent? That is almost insultin’, Callum. It really is.”
“Only ye could be insulted by that.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Hudson said, knocking back his own wine. After a moment of silence, he asked, “And what of Miss Crawford?”
“Miss Crawford?” Callum echoed warily. He didn’t like where the conversation was heading.
“Aye. Mabel.”
“What of her?”
“How long is she stayin’?”
“I daenae ken,” Callum replied, trying to shut down the conversation as fast as he could.
“She’s a bonnie lass,” Hudson remarked.
Callum slammed his cup on the desk. “Daenae even think about it,” he warned.
Hudson raised his hands in surrender. “I didnae say a thing!”
“Ye implied it.”
“I didnae imply anythin’.”
“Hudson,” Callum said with a long-suffering sigh. “I daenae want to hear another word about this. In fact, I daenae want ye to look at her, listen to her, or even think about her. Am I clear?”
“I didnae—”
“Am I clear?”
Hudson hesitated for a moment before nodding, albeit reluctantly. “Aye, clear.”
“Good,” Callum uttered. “Because she’s me sister-in-law. She’s nae some lass ye can chase and then abandon.”
Hudson gasped as if offended by the accusation. “I never abandon them! They usually abandon me!”
“And what a reassuring thing to admit.” Callum shook his head. “Do ye think it’s because ye’re insufferable?”
“Nay,” Hudson said, with frankly impressive confidence. “I think it’s because I am too lovable, and that frightens them.”
Callum gave him an incredulous look, but he didn’t continue the conversation in fear that somehow Hudson would convince him that was the truth. Instead, he pointed an accusatory finger at him and repeated his warning.
“Daenae even think about it.”
It was the last thing he needed, Mabel being seduced by someone like Hudson. Or anyone in his castle, really. He couldn’t even imagine how Rhea would react if she found out, and he didn’t want to give her a chance to.
And yet he had to admit that for a brief moment, he was distracted from thoughts of war enough for his shoulders to drop and the weight to lift off his chest.