Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Idaenae need to question anyone else’s loyalty, Leo told himself as he faced the gathered people in front of him and Beatrice.
Their expressions ranged from concern to relief, every emotion available radiating from them like the sun on the surface of a loch.
The sting of Allistair’s betrayal was still fresh, but Leo had no time to wallow or nurse his wound.
I am the leader of this clan, and the loyal look to me to be that leader.
A few whispers rippled through the group in front of him.
News traveled quicker than he had expected, but most of them only had the bits and pieces of it: his betrothed being poisoned, disappearing into the woodlands.
Now was the time to speak to all of them and let them know the truth of a man they knew well.
“I have news to tell ye, me loyal friends,” he started, pressing his hand to Beatrice's back. “Some of it is sad, but there is plenty to rejoice over.”
“Go on then, me Laird!” Shona called from the front of the crowd.
Shouted agreements ensued.
Leo looked at Beatrice, who returned his gaze was a sage glow about her.
“A traitor walked among us,” he revealed.
“A man who was part of me council as well as me family.” Hushed murmurs rose from the crowd.
“Me cousin Allistair spent his time plottin’ against me.
He poisoned me betrothed and attempted to murder her in the forest.”
The men who had ridden alongside him into the woodlands lowered their heads in unison.
Leo clenched his jaw, an unfamiliar feeling welling up inside of him.
Oh God, am I about to cry like a wee babe?
He took a deep breath and stared at the crowd, but the feeling did not abate.
Have I been unhappy for so long that I have forgotten what it even felt like?
Effie was watching him thoughtfully, her wide eyes following the story playing out on his face that he wouldn’t dare let escape his lips. Everything that was happening, everything that had just happened, was too much for a child to take in, but he could see her thinking, puzzling over every word.
“I have never worried about bein' betrayed by me kin,” he continued. “And I daenae want to spend me life as the head of this clan wonderin’ who is next to stab me in the back for a taste of power.”
“None of us to worry about, me Laird,” shouted a male voice from the back of the crowd.
“Aye,” Shona agreed, “ye have nothin' to fear from me.”
“Nor any of the servants,” another maid called out.
The men on their horses, who patrolled with him and answered the call whenever they were needed, raised the weapons and shields in solidarity.
“We are loyal to ye, me Laird,” one shouted above the noise of the crowd. “Ye have us at yer back for as long as ye live.”
“Longer!”
Effie darted forward and hugged him around the leg.
Leo reached down to pat the girl’s head, doing his best to keep his breathing steady. He had never been overwhelmed like this. He had never thought that a man was allowed to feel this way.
We are here for each other, he thought as the crowd chanted and cheered, faces pledging their loyalty freely and of their own accord. We are a clan and a family. I am entrusted to them as they are to me.
He smiled down at Effie, who was still resting her head against his leg, not yet ready to look him in the face.
Beatrice shifted closer to him, and they stood as a family for a moment, the air around them warm and vibrant.
Suddenly, he felt Beatrice tense under his touch. He followed her gaze to where her parents were standing, having worked their way to the front of the crowd. In her father’s hand was a piece of parchment, still sealed and unbroken, her fate unknown but written.
“We are too late,” Beatrice whispered to him. “The decree has come through.”
“Stay calm, lass,” he soothed.
“Leo, we did everythin' we could, but it wasnae enough to free ourselves.”
“We daenae ken what is written yet.” He cupped the side of her face in his hand and rested his forehead against hers like he had in the woods. “Have faith that we will be triumphant.”
Beatrice could barely breathe as he pointed at her father and gestured for him to approach. Her mother followed a few steps behind, unable to look up from her own feet.
Have they read it? Beatrice wondered, but then she saw that the seal was unbroken.
Her father was clutching the parchment so tightly that it was crumpling in on itself, but whatever message was on that page was still unseen.
Father probably wishes it were the decree taking me away from here. He wants to see the look on Leo’s face when the news is delivered.
Her thoughts were uncharitable, but she was tired, drained by everything that had happened.
She could still feel the sting of the blade at her arm and her father’s sharp words from days ago.
The poison had left a sense of memory that made her body tense and tighten against her control, and she clung to Leo as the parchment was delivered into his hand.
“Whatever this says, Bea,” he told her, “we are the masters of our own fate.”
“I’ve never been allowed to think that way, Leo.” She stared at her father until he averted his gaze. “Me entire life, me fate has been decided by other people.”
Leo broke the seal and let the parchment unfurl in front of him. The crowd, which had been cheering and stamping their feet only moments ago, fell into a hush, watching them as if their own fates were being decided at that moment.
As the silence settled, Beatrice wanted to scream. She didn’t want anyone else to hear what was happening. She didn’t want to see the expressions of pity and sadness that might flood all the faces around her if the news were terrible.
If only Leo and I could be alone for this, with nay one else to see me fall apart.
Effie had released Leo’s leg and was inching closer to Bea. The girl was tense, her small shoulders drawn up to her ears and her little hands knitting together. Beatrice wanted to hug her and tell her that she wouldn’t leave, that she would stay just as she had promised.
But there are forces bigger than ourselves, wee one. Forces I have tried to outrun.
Leo took a deep breath as his eyes scanned the page. His expression was unreadable at first, but then Beatrice saw a flicker behind the darkness, a change she could not ignore.
“Beatrice Whitmore is bound in marriage,” he announced.
Gasps rose from the crowd.
The air around Beatrice thickened, her vision narrowing to a point. She rested a hand on the top of Effie’s head as the girl dug her fingers into Beatrice's leg.
“Bea, I willnae let ye leave,” Effie whispered. “I daenae care about any sill old decree.”
Beatrice left her hand where it was but felt a weight shoving her heart back against her ribcage. The faces in the crowd were starting to change, and the sadness with which they looked at her stabbed and slashed as bad as the blade Allistair had tried to kill her with.
I am too late. Everythin' I have done has been for nothin'.
Leo kept reading, his voice growing steadier with each word. “Nay, nae Beatrice Whitmore.” He turned to her, his eyes lighting up. “Ye’re nay longer Beatrice Whitmore, lass. As per this decree, ye are now Beatrice MacSween.”
Beatrice's lungs deflated, and her body went loose, as if all her bones had suddenly disappeared. She wanted to cry and scream and celebrate in one fell swoop, wanted to take off running into the wilds without a stitch on and with Leo chasing behind her, following her wherever she went.
“It is true then, Leo,” she breathed. “We have done it.”
Leo brandished the parchment in his fist like a sword he was handing to her.
“We have made our own fate, Beatrice,” he said, then dropped the parchment on the ground with a laugh.
“Nay, I have said it already. I am ready to use it again.” He touched her shoulder and swallowed hard as if trying to hold something down. “Bea, ye are Bea.”
“And I am yers. As I should be.”
He swept her up in his arms and carried her into the castle, the crowd behind them chanting in celebration.
Beatrice cast a quick glance back over his broad shoulders to see her parents still standing at the edge of the throng.
Her father’s features were twisted in derision and disappointment, but her mother met her eyes and placed a hand on her chest as she watched her get carried off by Leo.
I’ve done it.
Beatrice touched her fingers to her lips and extended her hand briefly toward her mother.
What we lasses think we cannae do for ourselves, I have done it.