Connor glanced back at him. “Ye still will,” Connor said gently, “it’ll just take time.”
“Time,” he repeated, as though the word had lost meaning. “I daenae ken where I belong now.”
Connor slowed his horse until they rode side by side. “Ye belong at Castle McLaren,” Connor said. “Ye’re nae alone, brother. Ye’re strong.”
Michael finally met his eyes, pain raw and unguarded. “I daenae feel strong,” Michael admitted.
“Ye neednae be at this moment,” Connor answered.
Michael swallowed and looked away. “He did love me,” he said, almost pleading.
Connor nodded without hesitation. “Aye,” he said, “that much was true.”
The words seemed to give Michael a sliver of peace.
Connor watched as Michael rode in silence. The lad moved like one walking through a dream, grief weighing down every breath.
He thought of blood spilled, of brothers found and fathers lost. He vowed then that Michael would not bear this burden alone. Connor resolved to build something better from the ashes left behind.
He felt Eva's arms tighten around him. She rode on his saddle behind him, giving him reassurance in her touch.
I'll never lose her again. Eva, me love.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Eva arrived at the castle yard with the sound of hooves still ringing in her ears, her body aching but upright in the saddle. Connor dismounted first and came to her side at once, his hands firm and gentle as he helped her down. Her legs wobbled when her boots met the stone, and for a breath she leaned fully into him. The sight of the familiar walls made her heart flutter with relief she had not dared feel before now.
She barely had time to steady herself before Annabeth came running across the courtyard, skirts gathered in her hands.
“Eva!” her mother cried, voice breaking as she reached her. Annabeth pulled her into her arms, sobbing openly.
“I’m so relieved to see ye’ve returned,” she wept, clutching her tight, “I thought ye were lost to us, me dear daughter.”
Eva’s strength gave way then, and she clung to her mother as tears spilled freely.
“I’m nae hurt,” Eva said through her sobs, though her voice trembled, “I’m all right, Maither, I swear it.”
Annabeth cupped Eva’s face, searching her as though to be certain she was real. “I can breathe again,” Annabeth whispered, pressing her brow to Eva’s hair.
A familiar voice cried her name, and Eva turned to see Amelie hurrying toward her. The maid wrapped her arms around Eva without hesitation, holding her fiercely.
“Amelie!” Eva exclaimed, laughing and crying all at once, “I’m so happy ye’re here, I feared the worst had happened to ye.”
Amelie pulled back just enough to grin. “I’ve a bump to the head and a sore pride,” she said, “but I’m alive, and thank God ye are too.”
Eva laughed weakly and squeezed her again. “I thought I’d lost ye,” she admitted.
Amelie shook her head. “Nae so easy to get rid of me,” she said, eyes shining. The simple warmth of her presence eased something tight and sharp inside Eva’s chest.
“And the guard, Neal?” Eva asked.
“He is lost,” Amelie said, turning her gaze down.
“Nay. I am…” she sobbed. “He died protectin’ us. I shall take flowers to his grave,” Eva managed to say. Neal was gone because of her. It was the least she could do.
Then Margaret appeared at the edge of the courtyard, her face pale with worry as she took in the sight of Eva standing there. She crossed the stones quickly and pulled Eva into a firm embrace.
“Thank the heavens,” Margaret said, her voice thick, “I feared the worst when word reached us.”
