“Please understand, I did it for the alliance,” Moira implored, recounting Lucas’s choice for unity even when trust was lacking between them. “He doesnae deserve to die when he has done naught but help.”
The weight of responsibility lay heavy on Brodie as he responded, his voice low and controlled, “Ye’ve acted boldly, but not every choice can be made alone. We must think of consequences.”
She nodded solemnly. “I know I’ve erred. And I’ll do what I must to make amends.”
The breeze shifted, and a promise of change lingered. Brodie’s expression softened as they faced their crossroads together.
“Go,” he said, a hint of reluctant admiration in his voice. “See to Lucas and the others. We’ll speak more later.”
Moira turned, her resolve unwavering. She would stand by her decisions and face the future with courage and honor—for herself, her clan, and their alliances.
The sound of Brodie’s departing footsteps echoed in the stone corridor, a solitary drumbeat that signaled his retreat. Moira stood rooted to the spot, the chill of the Highland air seeping into her bones as she watched the broad shoulders of her husband diminish into the distance. She had hoped for understanding, perhaps even a begrudging respect for her boldness. Instead, she was met with a stern rebuke and the cold turn of his back.
In the silence that followed, Moira’s thoughts churned—full of turmoil. She had played her hand, reached out to the old magic held within gnarled fingers, and now the price of her gamble loomed over her like a gathering storm. With no confidante to share her burden, she felt the weight of isolation pressing down upon her, a mantle woven from her own impetuous threads.
The infirmary door creaked open, pulling Moira from her reverie. She stepped inside the dimly lit room, the scent of herbs and the warmth of the hearth wrapping around her. Almost everyone was gone, the majority of pallets empty, save for onewhere Lucas lay with Elspeth at his side. The young warrior’s brow was free of fever’s sheen, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of peaceful slumber. Elspeth’s dark hair cascaded over her shoulder as she leaned forward, whispering words of comfort only he could hear.
Ailis, the healer, approached with a vial of salve in hand. “’Tis remarkable,” she said, her voice tinged with awe. “They’ve all improved so swiftly.”
“Aye,” Moira replied, masking her inner turmoil with feigned surprise.
“Lucas is the last,” Ailis continued, tending to the bandage on his arm with practiced care. “If the infection does not return by the morn, he’ll be free to leave.”
Elspeth nodded, her gaze never leaving Lucas’s face. There was a resilience in the set of her jaw, a silent strength that spoke of enduring love and steadfast hope.
“Thank ye, Ailis,” Moira said, her voice soft but firm. “Ye’ve done well by them.”
“’Twas not me hands alone,” Ailis admitted, her eyes meeting Moira’s with a knowing look.
Moira felt a pang of guilt. “Aye, we’ve been blessed by fortune this day.”
She lingered a moment longer, watching the gentle rise and fall of Lucas’s chest, the delicate interplay of shadow and light across his features. Duty called her away, but her heart bade her stay, to witness this fragile peace before the storm of her actions would surely break. With a final glance at Elspeth’s vigilant form, Moira turned and left the infirmary, the echo of her steps mingling with the whispers of healing and the unspoken truths resting heavily on her soul.
*
Pine and earthscents enveloped Moira as she strode through the forest, bow in hand. The hunt provided a welcome distraction from her recent choices.
An autumn breeze whispered, carrying distant sounds of the keep. Moira scanned the underbrush for signs of movement. She moved silently until a flash of brown caught her attention. In one fluid motion, she drew an arrow, nocking and releasing it. The rabbit fell, and she quickly retrieved it.
As she collected her prize, a twig snapped behind her. Whirling around, bow ready, she found Kevin MacGregor emerging from the thicket.
“Ye shouldnae be following me,” she chided.
“Ye know ye cannae leave the keep alone, Moira,” Kevin replied. “I merely perform the task assigned to me by the McClain brothers.”
Moira assessed his earnest gaze and nodded once before delving deeper into the forest with him.
Three more arrows found their marks as the afternoon waned. When retrieving the last rabbit, Kevin stepped forward to help carry it.
“Allow me,” he said. Moira acknowledged this with a nod of thanks.
Later, returning to the keep, Moira asked about Grandfather Colin. Kevin described him as wise and strong but he was a renowned healer, and he preferred to keep his healing away from the sight of others.
“The entire family works hard to keep certain things private, and the rest of the clan knows naught about what is happening. I’ve puzzled some things together in the years I’ve served them, and I feel as if I ken more than most.”
“Thank ye, Kevin,” Moira said as they made their way back to the keep together, feeling lighter despite her emotional turmoil.
“The McClain brothers are surrounded by tales,” Kevin said, as if divulging a secret. “Mystery clings to them like mist on lochs at dawn.”
