“The Stormseeker said he is less than a day’s march from Bloodfire Village.”
“Aye,” drawled Myra, who was rocking her wee niece, Avaleen’s daughter Ella. “And getting closer by the hour.Vartok says they will not attack the village but wait for the warriors to meet them on the field of battle.”
“At least they’re honorable,” muttered Avaleen indignantly. “Even if theyareplanning on our Mates’ deaths.”
Just thethoughtof such a possibility made my stomach cramp and I wished I had not eaten that morning. My father was planning to not just hurtmyMate, but every good and noble male in this village, this clan. Myfamily.
“I can stop him,” I repeated, praying if I said it enough I might believe it. “I will not allow him to declare war on my clan.” I straightened from lacing up my boot and reached for the other.
“Am I not the chief’s wife?” I sent a fierce glare Myra’s way. “I have power!”
The normally stoic woman’s unexpected grin was quickly gone before she transferred the bairn to the other shoulder.
“Youdohave power to speak for the clan, Lillian, and we are beyond pleased to see you realizing that.”
“Aye.” Avaleen’s tone matched her soft touch on my forearm. “The chief’s Mate is as important as the clan chief when it comes to running the clan. But your father?—”
“I do not want to see him hurt,” I confessed, “but I cannot allow him to hurt my new family.” I closed my hand over Avaleen’s, my gaze hopeful. “Mayhap if I go alone to confront him and the Bladesedge chief—he is Mated to my sister, after all! Mayhap if I go to them, they will listen to reason.”
I blew out a breath. “Listen tome.”
I was prepared to beg my father if that is what was necessary to spare my new clan.
As I finished tying on my last boot, I stood and I saw Avaleen and Myra exchange glances. My skirts hung heavy around my ankles since I had doubled up on them, having no idea how far I would have to travel to find my father’s army. But still determined, I marched to where my shawls hung, and began layering them over my head and shoulders.
Finally, Avaleen rose.
“Our prayers go with you, Lillian.”
“Aye, but we cannot keep your secret from our Mates,” her sister warned. “Theywillcome after you.”
I took a deep breath as I tucked another scarf around my hair and ears.
“I would not ask you to keep this from them. I only need a few moments with Father to prevent a war…God willing.”
“God willing,” Avaleen repeated in a murmur.
Myra handed the bairn back to her mother, then reached for the door ahead of me.
“If you are willing to do this to save our Mates, then I’ll fetch you a horse. Meet me on the north side of the village in ten minutes.”
Grateful, I limped after her.
Since my accident as a child, I’d had few opportunities to practice riding. But the animal Myra brought me was her own, a mare who was gentle and easy-going, thank goodness. With my jaw clenched in determination, I hookedmy good foot in the stirrup, swung myself into the saddle, pointed the horse toward the south, and began praying.
That prayer continued for the next five hours as I followed the road at the fastest pace I felt comfortable with. ‘Twas a complex prayer, asking for everything from long life with Kragorn, to happiness, to my father’s understanding, to our eventual reconciliation.
By the time my fingers had gone numb inside my mittens and my twisted foot began to ache from the cold, the whole thing had coalesced intoOh please, oh please, oh please.
I was terrified, aye, but determined. Kragorn called me courageous. Is this what he meant? Being afraid and still doing what was right?
‘Twas late afternoon when the horse began to slow, and I saw a large group of people not very far distant. Ahead of me spread, not an army the way I would imagine it, but a large group of Highland orcs on horseback and on foot, carrying their weaponry and wrapped in kilts and cloaks. In the forefront rode a dozen people…and as I approached, I realized three of them were women.
My breath, which had been fogging the air in front of my face, now caught in my throat as I urged my horse onward. I recognized that head of red hair! ‘TwasSorcha! And the woman riding beside her who just gave a whoop and kicked her horse into a gallop? ‘Twas Roxanna! And the smaller woman who followed them both was our cousin Effie!
We met in the road, all four of us all-but-falling from our saddles into one another’s arms, laughing and crying all atonce. Despite the cold, I could not help my tears—tears of joy, tears of terror.
“You are pregnant!” I cried, holding Sorcha at arm’s length. “When are you due?”
