Anthony's face was as hard as stone, his voice steady as he delivered the accusation. “Marcus, there’s a man who swears he saw ye leadin’ the last attack. It was under the full moon. He’s nay fool, and his word carries weight in me clan.” Marcus stiffened, the weight of the claim pressing down on him like a vice. Eli muttered a curse under his breath, glancing uneasily at his laird.
Marcus narrowed his eyes, his tone edged with fury “And ye believe this man’s word over mine? How dare ye! To think I’d risk me clan’s honor on such a cowardly act?”
Anthony’s jaw tightened, and he raised a hand to forestall further protests. “I’m nae sayin’ I want to believe it, but the evidence is against ye, Marcus. The MacLennans have much to gain from our loss.”
Before Marcus could respond, a blur of fur darted into the room, the door creaking on its hinges as it swung wide. The red fox Annabeth had nursed back to health shot past Anthony’s boots, narrowly avoiding a swipe from one of his guards. “What in the devil’s name—” Anthony exclaimed, stepping back as the creature skidded across the floor, knocking over a small table. The tension in the room cracked as several of the guards exchanged bewildered looks.
The fox careened into a chair leg, spinning around just as Annabeth entered the room, looking flustered and out of breath. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and her cheeks were pink with exertion. “I’m sorry!” she said quickly, moving to scoop up the mischievous animal. “He slipped past me—I didnae mean to disturb yer meetin’.”
Marcus’ scowl softened slightly though his voice remained firm. “Hold onto the wee beastie, Annabeth. And since ye’re here, I’ve a question for ye.” Annabeth blinked, cradling the fox in her arms as she straightened. “A question? Now?” Her surprise was evident, but she nodded and took a seat at Marcus’ motion to join them.
Anthony crossed his arms, his expression skeptical, but he didn’t interrupt. Marcus leaned forward, his gaze steady on Annabeth. “Do ye remember where I was durin’ the last full moon? It’s important.” Annabeth tilted her head, looking at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Are ye feelin’ all right, Marcus? Ye’ve taken some blows to the head before, but this?—”
“Just answer the question, Annabeth,” Marcus interrupted, his tone sharper than he intended.
Annabeth’s expression shifted to one of disbelief as she tightened her hold on the fox. “At that time, I found ye outside me home barely able to stand,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the tension in the room. “Ye were bleedin’ and poisoned. I patched ye up meself, remember? Ye were in nay condition to tell me yer name for some time.”
Marcus leaned back in his chair, his shoulders stiff. “Someone claims they saw me leadin’ an attack on Anthony’s clan the same night I was under yer care.”
His voice was measured, but there was no mistaking the fury simmering beneath his words.
Annabeth said, “That’s absurd. Whoever said it is either blind or lyin’ through their teeth. If ye’d tried to lift a blade, ye’d have ripped every one of yer stitches. Ye’d have dropped in the dirt before ye managed a second swing."
Anthony’s gaze flicked between them, his suspicion faltering slightly as he absorbed Annabeth’s words. “Are ye certain, lass?” he asked, his tone less sharp than before.
Annabeth bristled, her chin tilting up. “I’m a healer, Laird McArthur. I daenae deal in half-truths. Marcus was with me, injured worse than I’ve ever seen him. If he attacked yer clan, it was in his dreams.”
“Ye hear that, Anthony?” Marcus said, his voice quiet but firm. “I was nowhere near yer lands that night. If someone claims they saw me, then we’re dealin’ with a liar or a schemer”
Anthony frowned, clearly unsettled, but his posture remained defensive. “If what ye say is true, then someone’s playin’ games with both our clans,” he admitted grudgingly. “But ye’ll understand why I cannae dismiss this out of hand.”
Marcus nodded though his frustration was evident. “Aye, I understand, but I’ll prove to ye that I’ve nay hand in this treachery.”
Anthony’s sharp gaze shifted to Annabeth as he folded his arms. “Lass, are there others who can vouch for what ye’ve said?” he asked, his tone skeptical but softer than before.
Annabeth nodded without hesitation. “Aye, me maither helped me tend to Marcus, and the two lads next door helped carry him into the house. They’ll all say the same.”
Anthony studied her for a long moment before giving a small nod. “I believe ye,” he said, his voice steady. Turning back to Marcus, his tone hardened slightly. “But tell me this, Marcus. Do ye swear on yer clan that ye never ordered the attacks on the MacGregors?”
Marcus met his gaze, his jaw firm. “I swear it, Anthony. I’d nae stoop to such treachery.”
Anthony’s shoulders relaxed though the tension in the room didn’t entirely lift. “Then it seems we’ve both been played for fools,” he said grimly. “If someone’s tryin’ to cause war between us now, it stands to reason they might’ve done the same to ye and the MacGregors in the past.”
Marcus tilted his head, considering the suggestion. “Aye, it makes sense. We need to speak to the MacGregors and find out.”
Marcus straightened and strode toward the door, determination in his step. “I’ll send a message to the MacGregors, askin’ the Laird to meet us.” He glanced at a young servant loitering near the doorway. “Duncan, show the McArthur laird and his men to the guest rooms. Make sure they’re comfortable.”
Anthony nodded to Marcus. “Aye, thank ye for yer hospitality. We shall get to the bottom of this.”
The servant scurried off with the McArthurs following. Marcus turned to Eli, who was watching the proceedings with quiet intensity. “Eli, I need ye to ride to the MacGregors personally,” Marcus said firmly. “Tell their laird it’s urgent, and he’s neededhere to discuss somethin’ that concerns all our clans. There’s nay one else I trust with this.”
Eli gave him a quick, confident nod. “I’ll ride fast, Marcus. Ye can count on me.” Without another word, he strode toward the door, already preparing himself for the journey. Marcus watched him leave, a small sense of relief settling in his chest.
As the hall emptied, Marcus exhaled deeply and turned back to Annabeth, who still stood with the fox in her arms. “Thank ye, lass, for speakin’ up,” he said quietly. “Ye might’ve saved us all a great deal of bloodshed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Marcus, is everythin’ alright? Ye look like a storm cloud’s hangin’ over ye.”
