“What are we to do about it?” Declan inquired as he sheathed his broadsword on his back.
The king’s face turned to the misty morning sunlight, bathing his skin in the new light of day. He took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh aroma of the late summer morn.
“We shall turn their ploy against them. We might trick them as they strove to trick us.”
Then Robert’s eyes caught James’s and flicked to the slain men in the road. James returned the King’s gaze, understanding the king’s intentions.
“There’s but a dozen, and we can have them lead the entry with the rest of us to follow.”
“Entry?” Declan asked, his golden face a mask of confusion. “What?”
James pointed to the dead men in the road. “Strip the English of their clothing and gear. It turns out the second contingent will arrive right after sunrise for the meeting with the emissary after all.”
“What if we are still walking into a trap? If they have figured out we dinna plan on any sort of accord?” Declan’s questioning voice sounded apprehensive.
James’s flinty eyes flashed. “Weel, then ‘tis out of the pot and into the fire. Did ye really want to live forever, my lads?”
Chapter Twenty-Three: Waiting
Tosia barely focusedon the ride back. The fields and brush were buttressed by trees, backed by gray and purple-hued mountains rising in the distance. The sun was finalizing its afternoon descent, casting long shadows on the path behind them as if putting the arduous day behind them. All this beauty, and she didn’t see it.
Tavish prattled on for most of the ride, his endless chatter filling the void in her chest since leaving James. She had done what she could, risked her well-being to bring him a message that might save his life.
Now she had to trust that they were able to make it out of that trap alive? How did she do that? What if they weren’t able to come up with a counter plan to the English? What if they failed, and James burned inside a decrepit manse beside his king?
What if he didn’t come home?
Her heart shuddered under her breast and a ball of knotted snakes sat in the pit of her stomach. Shabib had ridden behind them for most of the ride, giving Tosia the privacy she needed to work through her fear and trepidation. But as the forest thinned and they neared Auchinleck, he trotted up to ride next to her.
“Milady, you seem to have a weight upon you. What causes you such distress?” His deep voice rumbled in her ears.
“Och, Shabib. Aye. I know that James has fought for much of the past year, one battle after the next here in the lowlands. He is a powerful warrior, and the tales of his ferocity are the stuff of legends. But he’s still a man. What if he’s not able to thwart the English? What if they can no’ escape the trap that’s been laid?”
Her throat clenched on her final words, as if speaking them aloud would bring the action into existence. She’d never had a father, had lost her mother, and even Tavish was beginning to mature on his own. Her heart couldn’t handle another loss. Definitely not the loss of James. He may have been a monster when they’d met, but she had tempered the beast and fallen in love with the man. She couldn’t lose him.
Shabib nodded sagely at her queries. “Your concerns are not without merit, I’ll admit. But may I tell you something about James?”
