“Old men?”Noah snorted, feinting left before striking right, only to have his blade kicked aside by Hector’s swift counter. “Speak for yerself, Malcolm. I’ve got plenty of fight left in me.”
Sweat beadedon Hector’s brow despite the cool afternoon air, but his muscles moved with practiced precision, each parry and counter-strike flowing like water as he held his ground against both seasoned warriors.
He spun between them,his wooden practice sword a blur as he parried Noah’s swing and immediately pivoted to block Malcolm’s follow-up attack.
“Perhaps if yetwo spent less time talkin’ and more time coordinatin’ yer strikes, ye might actually land a blow.”
“Arrogant bastard,”Malcolm muttered good-naturedly, but there was respect in his voice.
Even with twentyyears of battle experience, he couldn’t match his Laird’s natural skill.
“Focus, Me Laird,”Noah called out, attacking with renewed vigor. “Ye’re distracted today. Thinkin’ about tomorrow’s ceremony, are we?”
A slight smiletugged at Hector’s lips as he easily dodged their strikes. “If I’m distracted and still holdin’ ye both off, what does that say about yer skills?”
“It sayswe need to try harder,” Malcolm replied, sharing a meaningful look with Noah before they both launched a simultaneous assault.
Hector wasin the process of demonstrating exactly why he was Laird when movement at the edge of the training yard caught his eye. His mother was approaching, but something was terribly wrong with her gait.
Andrea walkedlike a woman drunk on ale, swaying unsteadily, one hand pressed to the back of her head.
The wooden practicesword fell from Hector’s grip, clattering to the ground. “Maither!”
He was runningbefore conscious thought took hold, his boots eating up the distance between them as pure terror flooded his system. Andrea stumbled, her knees buckling, and he caught her just as she began to fall.
Blood.
There wasblood seeping between her fingers where they clutched the back of her skull, and her usually bright eyes were glazed over, unfocused. Her face was pale as fresh snow, her lips an alarming shade of blue.
“What happened?”His voice came out rough, demanding, even as his hands moved with gentle precision to examine her injury.
Malcolm kneeled beside him,holding her gently by the shoulders.
“Who did this to ye?”
“Someone…”Andrea’s voice was barely a whisper, each word seeming to take tremendous effort. “took… Gabriella…”
The world tiltedon its axis. Every sound in the training yard faded to nothing. His mother’s words echoed in his skull like a death knell, each syllable carving deeper into his chest until he could barely breathe.
“What?”The word scraped his throat raw.
“In the gardens…”Andrea’s eyes struggled to focus on his face. “Man with a branch… hit me… dragged her toward the woods…”
Her words slurred togetheras her consciousness began slipping away, and Hector realized he couldn’t wait for the healer.
He scoopedher up into his arms, her head lolling dangerously as blood continued to seep between her fingers. She was slipping away, her breathing shallow and erratic.
“Stay with me, Maither,”he murmured, his voice rough with panic as he began moving toward the castle. “Dinnae ye dare leave me now!”
Malcolm reached for her.“Let me carry her, Me Laird.”
“Nay.”The word came out as a snarl. Hector couldn’t let go of her, couldn’t trust anyone else to keep her safe when he’d already failed so catastrophically. “Just clear the way.”
They reachedthe healer’s quarters in what felt like hours, but could have only been minutes.
At the sight of them,Mistress Agnes hurriedly began laying out her supplies.
“Put her on the table,”she commanded, her voice calm and professional as she took in the blood matting Andrea’s hair. “Gently, now.”
