Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The council chamber smelled of damp wool, smoke, and old stone, which were familiar comforts that usually settled Domhnall’s mind. That day, they did not.
He stood at the head of the table, with his hands braced against its scarred surface, listening as Cameron finished his report.
Maps lay spread before them, weighted at the corners with daggers and seals.
The men gathered were all captains, elders, lairds whose lands brushed Argyll’s borders, and none of them wasted words.
“The healer collapsed at dawn,” Cameron said. “Fever took him hard in the night. He’s breathing, but barely lucid.”
A low murmur followed.
“He’s near seventy,” one of the elders muttered. “We’ve been fortunate tae have had him this long.”
“Fortune daesnae mend bones,” Domhnall replied flatly. “Nor stop infection.”
Cameron inclined his head. “Aye. And that brings us tae the second matter.”
He gestured to a slate board where inventories had been chalked out. Several markings had been scored through and replaced.
“We’re running low on essentials,” Cameron continued. “Comfrey, yarrow, foxglove, woundwort. The last storms spoiled part of the stores, and the border patrols have already used more than expected.”
One of the captains scowled. “Whatever’s moving near the passes kens how tae bleed us without forcing retaliation.”
Domhnall straightened slowly. “MacGregor.”
No one contradicted him.
“We cannae prove it,” Cameron said carefully. “But the timing is nay accident.”
“Nae,” Domhnall agreed. “It never is.”
Cameron folded his arms. “Even if the healer recovers, we cannae afford a shortage. One bad clash, one outbreak of fever, and we’ll be counting graves instead of stores.”
The words settled heavily over the table. Domhnall looked down at the maps again, at the thin lines that represented paths men bled on.
“I will sort it,” he said at last.
An elder lifted a brow. “How?”
“That,” Domhnall replied evenly, “daesnae concern the Council yet.”
“That answer inspires either confidence or unease. I have yet tae decide which,” the same elder made a point.
“It usually ends up being both,” someone in the back commented.
Cameron did not smile. “Time matters here, me laird.”
“I am aware,” Domhnall said. “Which is why this meeting is over.”
The dismissal was quiet but absolute.
Cameron walked past him, clapping him on the shoulder. “If this turns bloody, I hope yer solution is quicker than MacGregor’s knives.”
“So dae I,” Domhnall replied.
Cameron lingered a moment longer. “Ye are certain?”
Domhnall met his gaze without hesitation. “I am.”
Whether that certainty was shared was another matter.
One by one, the men gathered their cloaks and weapons, murmuring among themselves as they left the chamber.
Some looked reassured, trusting the laird who had steered them through worse.
Others wore doubt openly, the kind born of too many unmarked graves and too few easy answers.
Domhnall was still standing over the table when he heard footsteps in the corridor. He did not turn at once. He assumed it was Cameron, lingering to press a final argument. His hand rested flat against the map, and his thoughts were still caught between routes and risks.
“Make it quick,” he said without looking up.
The footsteps stopped.
“Me laird?”
The voice was not one of his men. He lifted his gaze.
Margaret stood just inside the doorway. She had changed since the night before.
Now, she appeared daylight-softened and properly dressed, but there was nothing tentative about the way she met his eyes.
For a brief, disorienting instant, he thought of her in the practice hall, of the dagger in her hand and of thunder.
He straightened. “Ye should nae be here.”
“I ken,” she replied calmly.
That caught his attention. “Ken what?”
“About the healer,” she said. “And the shortage.”
His jaw tightened. “Who told ye?”
“Nay one,” she answered. “I was with him.”
That surprised him into stillness.
“With the healer?”
She nodded. “Annabel took me tae him this morning. He was burning with fever. I helped cool him and prepared what little we had left of the stores. It is nae much, but it may keep him lucid.”
Domhnall exhaled slowly. “Ye did well.” The words came before he had quite decided to say them.
She inclined her head, accepting the thanks without ceremony. “It is nae enough.”
“Nay,” he agreed. “It is nae.”
She hesitated only a moment. “Which is why I will gather the herbs meself.”
The room went very still.
“Nay,” Domhnall said at once.
Margaret did not flinch. “Ye have men tae watch borders and patrol passes. Ye dinnae have time tae spare them for this.”
“I have time tae spare guards,” he countered. “I dinnae have ye tae spare.”
Her eyes sharpened. “This again.”
“This always,” he replied.
“The task is time-sensitive,” she pressed. “Some of what ye need must be gathered fresh, before the bloom fades. Waiting risks lives.”
“I am aware,” he said coldly. “That daesnae change the danger beyond the walls.”
“And keeping me behind them daesnae change the need,” she shot back. “Ye said yerself that ye cannae afford an outbreak.”
He moved around the table, stopping a careful distance from her. “Ye are nae trained fer field work in contested territory.”
“I am trained tae recognize plants in difficult terrain,” she revealed. “Tae ken which grow near water, which favor shade, which look harmless and are nae. I have done this before.”
“Nae here.”
“Nay,” she admitted. “But plants dinnae swear allegiance tae clans.”
He almost smiled at that… almost.
“This is exactly why ye are confined tae the grounds,” he said. “MacGregor is testing our reach. Sending ye out is inviting him tae strike.”
“And keeping me idle while people suffer is inviting another kind of loss,” she replied. “Ye speak of responsibility. This is mine.”
He stared at her, anger and admiration tangling in a way he deeply resented.
“Ye think I enjoy refusing ye?” he demanded. “That I take pleasure in this?”
“I think,” she said quietly, “that ye are trying tae protect me from a danger ye understand too well. And I respect that.”
The admission slowed him.
“But I will nae stand aside,” she continued, “when I can help. I ken ye value competence. Please, let me show it.”
The words struck true. He had built his rule on that very principle. Men followed him because he recognized ability where others saw only rank. And damn her, she knew it.
He turned away from her, pacing once across the chamber. The maps blurred at the edges of his vision as other images pressed forward instead. He could hear Fiona’s laughter as it once had been, then the silence that followed it forever.
He stopped and faced Margaret again.
“Ye are asking me tae risk ye,” he told her. “Kenning precisely why I refuse.”
“I am asking ye tae trust me,” she replied. “Just enough.”
Trust.
The word sat uneasily on his tongue. He had learned, long ago, that trust was a luxury paid for in blood.
“I cannae,” he said at last. The admission cost him more than refusal would have. “Nae the way ye mean it.”
She said nothing, but he felt her attention like a steady pressure at his back.
“I willnae send ye out alone,” he continued, forcing the words into order. “Nor will I pretend the danger is less than it is. MacGregor would take ye if he could. Or kill ye simply tae prove he still can.”
“I ken.”
He turned back to face her then. “If ye go, ye dae so under guard.”
She studied him, weighing his words the way she weighed everything, with more sense than pride. At last, she nodded once.
“And I go with ye.”
Her eyes widened before she could stop them.
“That is non-negotiable,” he added. “If there is risk, it will find me first. Ye will follow me word without question. If I say we turn back, we turn back.”
A moment passed. Then another.
“Very well,” she said.
The answer was simple. It should not have unsettled him as much as it did.
“Then it is settled,” Domhnall said, though it felt like anything but. “We go at first light, quietly and with men I trust.”
She inclined her head. “Thank ye.”
He did not answer that. Gratitude had no place here, only consequence.
As she turned to leave, Domhnall remained where he was, staring once more at the map and at the thin line between protection and surrender.
Trust, he thought grimly, had just been invited back inside his walls.