Chapter 7 Picking Up Strays
Picking Up Strays
Flora
T
he sun is high by the time I have the Ever hidden at Padraig’s house.
Where the trip there from the woods took me fifteen minutes when I was alone, it took twice that with the Ever in the saddle behind me.
Even with his arms around my waist and his weight braced against my back, he could hardly balance himself.
He claims he doesn’t know what sort of poison could be causing his flesh to blacken, so there’s only so much I can do. I’ve packed the wound again to stem the bleeding and applied a fresh, tight bandage.
If he stays still, he should be all right until I return. Now it’s a matter of getting back to my rooms unseen. That’ll be easier said than done.
Dunhaelic’s defensive strength lies in its position at the intersection of two long glens with a view across the wide, flat plain and the military road that cuts past the keep.
That’s dangerous now that I have to travel the half-mile from Padraig’s house to the gate of the inner fortress without being seen.
Mounted on Ari and leading the dappled mare, I round the corner of Padraig’s house, but the distant rumble of wheels and the dull thud of horses’ hooves prompts me to turn back and trot the horses out of sight.
Two small wagons laden with young children and household goods approach the keep along the road. A group of older children, women, and elderly men trudge alongside.
They’re all too silent, and I recognise that soul-deep tiredness that leaves you unable to think of anything but the need to take another step and then one more.
They remind me of the Ever warning me to take my family south, and I wonder where this group is going.
On any other day, I’d ride out to offer them food and a night of shelter.
Today, I can’t. The Ever aside, the more I consider the situation, the more I wonder whether the choices my brothers made, and those made by the lesser Domhnall chiefs, have already put us in danger from the queen.
I shiver as I wait for the wagons to pass, as if my body’s only catching up to everything I’ve felt. Everything I didn’t let myself feel while it was happening.
The Ever who pinned me down and made me want at the same time that he made me afraid was dangerous. When he apologised in that low purr of a voice that slid past my defences and made me crave things I’ve no business wanting, he became a threat.
Standing here in the shade of Padraig’s house, I can still feel the hard planes of the Ever’s chest pressed against my back and the warmth of his arms around my waist. With every unconscious flex of his muscles, he made my body feel more alive than I’d ever known it was possible to feel.
I’ve agreed to help him because he needs to be strong enough to leave Dunhaelic as fast as possible, and because he admitted his mistakes and his vulnerability.
It takes strength to admit weakness to a friend.
Confessing it to an enemy requires courage.
I can admire him for that, but I can never allow myself to trust him.
I peek around the corner of Padraig’s house and watch the travellers trudge up the slope towards the Sacred Wood.
Then I set the horses into a trot past the fields that lie waiting to be sown, past the larch trees that stand sentry between them, past old furrows that catch the light, and past lambs bleating in the sheep pens.
Smoke rises from the cottage by the mill and the smaller ones up the glen, carrying the earthy scent of burning peat and the green bite of April heather.
Seeing Dunhaelic like this, I take a moment to etch every piece of it into my memory.
The morning has reminded me of how easily I could lose it, and I love it all so fiercely, every acre from the peat-cutting trench that runs like a scar to the south to the snow-capped crag of Ben Aran in the distance.
I hurry on, hoping the road stays clear, but as I cross the military road, a cloud of dust appears at the far eastern side of Dunhaelic Glen, where it first curves into view. The speed suggests riders without carriages or wagons, and these days that means soldiers. One side or the other.
Urging Ari and the mare into a gallop, I race across the few hundred yards of fields that separate the road from the keep’s exterior grounds and buildings. I ride through the gate in the outer wall and wait out of sight of the road. Ari chafes at the bit while I make him stand.
Heart thudding, I listen as the staccato hoofbeats of what must be a dozen horsemen thunder closer. But they trot past without breaking stride. I wait briefly, then ride back into the open, my breath catching as I see their scarlet uniforms. Scarlet and black—the colours of the Raven Queen.
My heart still beating too fast, I nudge Ari forward again. The soldiers worry me. I can’t help wondering where they’re going, but there’s no time to indulge such thoughts.
I bypass the outer stables where we keep the less valuable horses and press on across the bridge over the dry moat.
Ari and the mare’s hooves ring loud across the wood, louder still on the cobblestones as we pass through the arched main gate.
Within the courtyard, dogs begin to bark their greetings.
The portcullis yawns wide, leaving jagged-toothed shadows on the ground beneath, but Faolan, our old armsmaster and last semblance of a household guard, is absent from his post in the guard tower.
That’s unusual enough to make me frown. Then I spot an unfamiliar pair of horses tied across the courtyard.
Visitors are the last thing I need just now.
The horses tied by the stable door look Highland-bred, and the saddle blankets are plain, not the scarlet-trimmed black that the queen’s horses wear.
That’s good news with the bad, at least.
The household dogs converge, barking too loudly, as if even they sense our world is slipping into chaos.
I walk the horses across the courtyard beneath too many windows where visitors, not to mention my mother, might be watching.
The dogs sniff at me with a mixed reaction of growls, whines, and sneezes as I dismount beside the stable door.
Even my own deerhound, Rab, who is usually more restrained than the smaller herding dogs, sniffs every inch of my shirt and bodice and goes so far as to lift paws the size of plates onto my shoulders.
His tail remains low, and his eyes are watchful beneath the scruff of red hair that matches the deer he’s bred to hunt. I scratch him behind his ears.
Ari butts me with his head, pushing me towards the building. I give him a quick scratch on the forehead. “Yes, your majesty. I’m aware your breakfast is long past due.”
He snorts his disapproval just as Iain emerges from the stable doorway. Sixty-odd years have robbed the old stableman’s eyes of much of their sight, but he’s lost none of his good sense. He gives the Ever’s mare a quick, frowning assessment.
“Who’s this?” he asks. “Picking up strays, are you now?”
“Who are the visitors?” I counter.
“Stewards for the Domhnalls of Ceapaich and Gleanngaradh to see you. They’ve been waiting.”
“Both of them at once?”
“And right peacocks they are. Not interested in speaking to the likes of me, but they weren’t best pleased to learn they’d have to cool their heels until you showed your face.”
“I assume you took great pleasure in listening as they grumbled, in that case?”
Iain’s lips peel back in a smile, revealing the gaps of his missing teeth. “Och, aye, I did at that, and Faolan is listening now.” Then Iain’s expression sobers. “Seems the old Ceapaich chief died at Culodur, and Gleanngaradh won’t last long. It’s the new chiefs who’ve sent their stewards to you.”
My chest tightens, and I have to blink away sudden tears. “This bloody war never stops taking from us. They were good men, both of them. And good allies.”
“That they were. Men you could count on. Can’t say the same for the new Ceapaich chief.”
My heart gives a thud of dread. “It’ll be Dughall, won’t it?”
Ugly memories surface with the name, and my mouth turns sour at the thought of Dughall seated at the Council table. The boy who terrorised me while my younger brothers laughed will be no easier to cope with now that he’s fully grown.
“You all right, lass?” Iain peers at me. “Seems to me it won’t be good news bringing the stewards to Dunhaelic when there’s other business for them back at home.”
“Let’s wait and see what they want before we assume the worst,” I say, more optimistically than I feel.
Iain takes Ari’s reins and the mare’s, but before leading them into the stable, he rubs at the crust of blood on the mare’s leg and shoulder. He cocks an eyebrow at me, then gestures at my bloody skirt and bodice.
“Anything else you want to tell me?” he asks.
I school my expression and offer the explanation I’ve carefully prepared. “The mare lost her rider in the Wood, and he must have been injured quite badly. I spent a while searching for him with no success, and then the mare needed water and rest before I could bring her back.”
“Och, aye?” Iain cuts me a look.
“Yes,” I say firmly. It feels like I’m shredding my integrity, but every word I’ve said is true.
Iain, like everyone who’s left at the keep is loyal to a fault, but it’s safer for them to know nothing about the Ever.
That’s the only way I can cling to the slim hope that if there’s a price to be paid for my choices, I’ll be the only one who has to pay it.
“Fine, then.” Iain stares at me a little longer, and I feel heat rising in my cheeks.
“I’ll give the mare a warm mash, water, and careful watching.
She’s well-bred, that one. Owned by someone of means, no doubt.
I assume you want her brushed and kept somewhere out of sight if any strangers happen by? ”
“That might be best,” I admit. “And I’m sorry to rush off and leave you with even more work, but I’ll have to leave again as soon as I can rid us of these visitors.”
“You’ll be wanting to change that dress before you show yourself, miss. Seeing as you’re wearing more blood than the horses are.”
My cheeks grow hotter, and impulsively, I lean over and kiss Iain’s cheek. “Thank you. Truly. I can’t imagine what we’d do without you.”
“Well, and off with you now, then.” He looks down at the cobblestones and clears his throat. “But you know you’ve only to ask if there’s anything you need. I’ll be put out otherwise, whatever. At my age, a spot of trouble makes no matter of difference.”
I nod, and not trusting my voice, I turn and leave the stables.
Rab follows me across the courtyard, his presence a silent comfort. And since I’m liable to run into the visitors before I can reach the family quarters, I stop by the kitchens where Morag is kneading bread dough.
When I enter, she turns from the table where she’s kneading dough, and the head-to-toe examination she gives me is every bit as canny as Iain’s. Her hair has greyed rapidly these past months, and her arms are thick with muscle from the added work she’s had to take on.
“And where have you been, mistress?” Morag brushes flour off her hands and wipes them on her apron. “Here we’ve been wondering if you’re lying dead in the Wood somewhere and had no one to send out after you with the visitors here making trouble.”
I heave an inward sigh. “What sort of trouble?”
“Thinking themselves too important, to begin with.” Morag shakes her head. “I don’t suppose you want to tell me why you’re covered in blood?”
“Not at the moment.” I smile at her, already feeling guilty. “I’ve kept the visitors waiting long enough as it is, and then I have something urgent I have to tend to. I do need a clean dress first, if you can get one for me.”
Morag gives me a disapproving stare, then fetches a cloth and points me sternly towards the wet room. “You might as well give yourself a wash while I’m gone, in that case. You’d frighten children, the state you’re in.”
She crosses towards the threshold, then pauses in the doorway.
“Not to poke my nose where it isn’t wanted,” she says without turning to face me, “but if either of the visitors has brought a proposal for you, then you should hear them out. You’ve too much on your shoulders as it is, and it could be a husband would ease the burden. ”
I draw in a long, uneven breath. “You don’t think we can manage here on our own? I know you’ve all been doing too much…”
“That’s not it at all.” Now she does look at me, and there’s pity in her expression.
“Maybe it’s time to admit the truth,” she says more quietly.
“Even if you can persuade the council to accept you as High Chief, there’s still the law to consider.
A husband could help you, love. A strong man who’d be willing to share the burden until the law is changed.
Someone to help you rebuild. And you’ll be wanting a family sooner or later, won’t you?
Listen with an open mind, that’s all I’m asking. ”
I know she means well. Still, the idea of selling myself hits me like a blow. Morag’s jumped to the same conclusion about what the visitors want as I have, but instead of being angry, she’s telling me to give in. To give up. The thought of marrying Dughall literally turns my stomach.
Rab settles himself near the warmth of the ovens, his massive head resting on his paws.
I strip out of my clothes and wash. Unbidden, I remember the feel of the Ever’s arms around me, his warmth. The way he held me. The way he apologised when he was wrong.
I doubt Dughall has apologised for anything in his life.
Morag takes longer than I’d hoped, but she returns eventually with a clean skirt, bodice, and a scarf to cover my hair. I’m too hurt and furious to say much to her, and I refuse to marry anyone I don’t want. After throwing on the clothes, I hurry to the Great Hall, where the visitors are waiting.
I can’t afford to waste time while the Ever is alone and bleeding.