“And I’ll rally the men,” Moira said as she helped Brodie back to his cot. “We’ll not let Clyde Stewart take what’s ours without a fight.”
“Can we trust the source?” Ailis replied softly.
“Trust is scarce these days.” Moira frowned. “But if it’s true, we’re all at risk.”
“Let’s hope not,” Ailis said, glancing at Brodie.
“Hope is a luxury,” Moira countered quietly. “We must prevail.”
*
Hooves clattered onstone. A royal emissary had arrived.
Moira approached the entrance. The messenger dismounted hastily, panting and extending a sealed parchment toward her.
As Moira grasped the letter, she noted the unbroken seal of Mary de Guise—Queen Dowager of Scotland. She thanked the messenger, her tone steady despite inner turmoil.
Returning to Brodie’s side, Moira announced, “From Mary de Guise,” before breaking the seal and reading aloud: “‘Clyde Stewart has blatantly disregarded Scottish law by taking lands not his own, spilling blood without honor…’”
Moira continued, detailing accusations that deepened the gravity of their situation. Brodie’s fists clenched—a silent vow to protect what was theirs.
“Stewart’s ambition will be his undoing,” he declared.
“Or ours if we don’t act quickly,” Moira added. “We must plan and meet this threat head-on.”
Ailis nodded, her expression solemn but resolute, beside her sister.
The silence hung heavily in McAfee Keep after Moira finished reading the letter. Brodie and his kin shifted uncomfortably, their anxiety palpable. Ailis stepped forward, her green eyesglowing with determination. “We cannot let fear dictate our path,” she declared, suggesting envoys be sent to allied clans to inform them they were needed yet again. It felt like the armies had barely left, and they needed them back again. She hoped the other clans would take the threat as seriously as they were.
As agreement spread through the room, Brodie’s thoughts turned to strategy. But first, he needed to face his own battle: regaining strength in his limbs. With Moira and Ailis beside him, Brodie focused on the task of rehabilitation.
“Steady,” Moira encouraged as he pushed himself up from the chair, legs trembling.
“Focus,” Ailis added gently.
Brodie took a breath and willed his body to obey. Each shaky step was more than just physical progress.
*
Brodie tensed ashe pushed himself up from the oak chair, his knuckles white. With each attempt to stand, his body protested, but the determination in his eyes remained. Moira stood close, her red hair reflecting her passion, ready to lend support.
“Ye can do this, Brodie,” she said firmly. “One step at a time.”
Nodding, Brodie slowly rose to his feet, legs trembling and unsteady. The room seemed to hold its breath, filled with anticipation and the faint scent of peat from the hearth.
Gritting his jaw, Brodie took two halting steps forward. Moira’s hand hovered near his elbow, promising steadiness should he falter.
When he stumbled, Moira’s hands guided him back to security. Her touch was a lifeline.
“Look at me, Brodie,” she urged gently.
Their eyes met, and something wordless passed between them—an understanding that weakened pride and pain. He sawnot just his own reflection in her gaze but also their shared loyalty.
“Thank ye, Moira,” he breathed softly.
“Ye need not thank me,” she replied earnestly. “We face this together.”
A rare smile graced his lips as they continued their painstaking rehabilitation process. Their bond had grown deeper than either anticipated.
