Chapter 2 #2
"Because ye would have said no!" His mother's shrill voice rang out from the doorway behind him.
"And ye need to marry. Ye need heirs. Ye need to stop idling about and start making something of yerself.
With yer talent, ye could even become a courtier and work for the king himself.
But instead ye squander yer youth on playing childish games with yer men! "
"What I need," Cormac said, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm, "is for my family to respect my choices. To trust that I ken what's best for my own life and my clan."
The room fell silent.
Then came the sound of boots on stone – quick, purposeful – and the doors to the Great Hall swung open once more.
Cormac was surprised to see Seumas, his second-in-command, filling the doorframe and breathing hard from exertion.
"Forgive the intrusion," he said, his gaze finding Cormac immediately. "I need a word with my master. 'Tis an urgent matter."
Cormac was already moving, ignoring everyone else in the room. He stepped out into the corridor with Seumas, pulling the doors shut behind him.
"What has happened? Where are the men?" he asked.
"The men are camped in the wood half a league south of the Keep. All of them." He let out a slow breath. "A day after ye left, a sealed message arrived from the king. I thought it best not to sit and wait, so we broke camp and came to ye."
Cormac stared at him for a moment, something loosening in his chest that he hadn't realized was coiled tight. His men. All of them, camped nearby, waiting on him. Loyal to a fault, the lot of them, and he was absurdly glad of it.
"Ye brought the message?" he asked.
Seumas produced a folded letter from inside his jerkin and held it out. The royal seal was unbroken.
Cormac took it and cracked the wax.
Shadow – Urgent. Need ye immediately.
He read it twice, then folded it away. All at once the chaos of the past day and a half felt very small and very far away.
"Are ye all well rested? There is food aplenty in the Keep if ye need to eat before we leave for Edinburgh."
Seumas scoffed. "Need I remind ye, Shadow, we are not primped-up court lasses. We dinnae need to be mollycoddled like wee bairns. The men will find rest and food aplenty on the road. Keep life is making ye soft, I see." He smirked before turning on his heel toward the stables.
Cormac laughed, the first genuine laugh he'd had since riding through the Keep's gates. "Aye, then. I'll join ye shortly."
Seumas raised a hand in acknowledgment without looking back, and was gone.
***
CORMAC RE-ENTERED THE Great Hall. His father and Laird Ruthven watched him with varying degrees of suspicion. His mother hovered near the far door, and Annag was now loitering in the gardens with Ninian.
"I have to leave," Cormac announced, moving through the hall with purpose.
"Go? Now?" his mother demanded. "What is so urgent that it cannae wait?"
"I am called away on urgent matters."
"But the betrothal—" his father started.
"Is your problem, not mine," Cormac replied. "Nessa?" he called.
His sister appeared in the passageway at the far end of the hall. "Aye?"
"Come bid me farewell, sprite."
She fell into step beside him as he headed for the stables. "What do ye think of the Ruthven lass?" she asked.
"Never in a thousand years will that woman be my wife."
Nessa grinned with relief. "Then I am glad to hear it, brother." After a moment's pause she whispered, "I gather ye go to do the king's bidding?"
"Aye, and it cannot wait."
"Then pray, be safe, brother, but dinnae be a stranger too long. I ken we can sometimes be troublesome, but ye are needed here as well."
Cormac nodded.
They entered the stables to find his horse already saddled, for Seumas had seen to it. Though his saddlebags looked fuller than he'd left them.
"I packed ye some provisions, brother."
"When did ye manage this?" he asked, glancing at Nessa.
"I knew ye would head for the hills the moment ye realized what Da was arranging."
Cormac smiled and shook his head. "Ye always were the cleverest Stewart among us."
He hugged her goodbye and messed up her hair until she scowled and slapped his hand away. Then he reached into his saddlebag and pressed a heavy pouch of coins into her palm.
"What is this for?" she asked.
"For the needs of the clan."
"Should ye not give it to Ma?"
"No. I ken 'tis ye who really runs the Keep."
Nessa blushed. It was true – she had been acting as chatelaine for the better part of a decade. Their mother was too flighty for the task, their father forever reliving his glory days with his friends, and Ninian spent most of his time carousing at the local inns.
"I am sorry to leave so much responsibility to ye," Cormac said, "but I promise, as soon as I have leave of the king's service, I shall return and help ye."
"What of the Ruthvens?" Nessa asked.
"I am certain the king shall intercede on my behalf."
"If only ye could tell our parents that ye work for the king," she said quietly. "They would not pressure ye so to wed. The clan would be proud of ye instead of belittling ye all the time."
"No. The less people ken, the better. Let them think of me what they will – it matters not."
He swung up into the saddle, and Nessa stepped back. He gave her one final wave as he rode away.
Behind him he could hear Annag's shrieking voice as she returned from the gardens demanding an explanation, his mother's protests following close after, his father's attempts to calm everyone down, and somewhere in the middle of it all, Ninian's laughter rising cheerfully above the chaos.
But Cormac didn't look back.
A half-league to the south, his men were waiting. He had a king to see.
***