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Although they passed no cliffs, or navigated high peaks, from Dunmure to Brockburg, their late king’s death was something no Scot could forget. If Alexander had not plunged to his death on a midnight ride to visit his new queen, their country would not be in the grip of an English king. He was not surprised Alex had refused to escort both his sister and younger cousin, Ava, in the dead of night.

“Will you stay?” he asked. Alex spent his time both at Dunmure and Brockburg in his role, so he was unsurprised when Alex nodded.

“For a few days, aye.”

Again they were silent, until his uncle took him off guard. “What will you do about Anbarth’s daughter?”

The very mention of Reina was the advantage his uncle needed, the kind he had been looking for himself. With the upper hand, Alex was able to get past his defenses. And Galien found the tip of his uncle’s sword at his chest.

Yielding, Galien stepped back.

“You said yourself, she is a distraction I cannot afford.”

Alex tsked. “I made no mention of the lady,” he said, sheathing his sword.

“Yet she is the reason for my troubled thoughts,” he admitted. “No matter what she discovers about her past, it does not change my future.”

“Wallace has returned to Scotland,” his uncle said. “He is purportedly at Dunipace.”

“With his uncle,” Galien concluded. He and Alex began walking up the hill, toward the castle walls. “If it is true, they will not be there for long.”

Wallace’s uncle, a priest, had tutored him. Thus far, the English had not discovered the fact, nor one of his hiding spots, at Dunipace. To be safe, however, he rarely returned to the same place, with the exception of the dense wilds of Ettrick forest, where he trained men, for very long.

“Nay,” his uncle agreed.

Unlike Galien’s father, Alex was not as bullish on the matter of Wallace and his men. His own son Conall had often trained with Galien in Selkirk.

“Father does not agree that I should return to them. Yet Conall does, with your blessing.”

Alex stopped and looked Galien directly in his eyes. “Your father is chief,” he said. “It is both a blessing and a burden, but one I’d not wish to bear. He balances the love of his children against the good of the clan, protecting you and protecting us all. His decisions, unlike my own, are not Toren’s alone.”

It was a familiar speech, but one Galien could never understand fully. The responsibility of Clan Kerr was a shared one, in some ways. But in others, it rested solely on his father’s shoulders.

“You’d not wish to be chief?” he asked his uncle, the question not one he’d ever directly put to him.

Uncle Alex’s answer was immediate. “Nay, I would not. But you very well may find yourself in the position, Galien. So best you begin to think as your father might, despite my own opinion on matters such as these. Ones that could see lives hanging in the balance, as yours did at Anbarth.”

As always, his uncle’s counsel was welcome, and measured. He would consider it carefully. What he’d said to Reina, Galien meant. He would be with her in truth. Never have her wonder where her place was again. For the answer was clearer to him each day.

It was by his side.

“Do you love her?”

It was a question he’d answered more than once since arriving, and as they passed through the gatehouse, Galien gave his uncle the one he’d offered before. “Aye,” he said. “Not because she saved me,” he qualified, watching as the riders approached the gates behind them. “You will understand when you meet her.” They’d been walking toward the inner ward, but Galien did not recognize these men. Nor, it seemed, did his uncle, for Alex suddenly stopped, watching as they spoke to their guards.

He understood his uncle’s piqued interest. They were warriors, by the look of them. Six men, though all hooded. No marks of any kind. Alex’s hand moved to his hilt, as did Galien’s. Their destination no longer the keep, the two of them walked back to the gatehouse even as one of the men spoke to their sergeant-at-arms.

He couldn’t see the man’s face. But Galien knew the voice well. His uncle seemed to have recognized it at the same time as he. Releasing his hand on his hilt, Uncle Alex strode toward them, Galien following. A moment later, his suspicions confirmed.

“I was told you were at Dunipace,” his uncle said, shaking the hand of, perhaps, the most dangerous man in Scotland. At least, the most dangerous to be seen with, as Galien knew all too well.

“A deliberate attempt,” the newcomer said, “to divert attention from Brockburg. I’d not put your clan at risk, but I had to come. To speak to you.” He turned to Galien. “And your father.”

Alex whistled. “You are a brave man indeed to have come here after nearly getting my nephew killed,” he said, stepping aside to allow the party of men and their horses through.

Galien added, “Welcome to Brockburg Castle, Wallace.”

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