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“Who goes there?” one of the guards responded.

“Ian Cambel,” Kate said. “He was wounded in a battle with the English. Please, let us in. He needs help urgently.”

“Let them in!”

The gates opened slowly.

Kate pressed her fingers to Ian’s neck. His pulse was still beating, thank God. He’d come to consciousness from time to time along the path, raised his head, mumbled something, then fallen unconscious again. She’d asked herself a thousand times if she should stop and let him rest.

But she was terrified he’d die without immediate medical help. She could bandage cuts and cook him a nourishing soup, but she had no idea how to deal with deep wounds.

With a sinking heart and a dark, heavy feeling in her gut, she’d spurred Thor on, desperately looking for any sign of Inverlochy Castle. She was grateful they’d arrived before dusk had settled.

Kate let Thor walk in the courtyard. The familiar gray walls pressed in on her from four sides. This was where they’d thought she was a thief and where she’d thought she was going insane for the first time.

In many ways, that situation had been better than the current one. When she’d had amnesia, she’d had nowhere to go, and could stay with the man she loved…

Now, she had a purpose, somewhere to go back to. Mandy and Jax needed her to provide for them. They must be worrying like crazy by now. Thor stopped, and Kate glanced at the eastern tower, where in 2020 she’d fallen down the stairs and stumbled upon the rock that would bring her to Ian. A shiver ran through her at the thought of going back to that dark, dank cavern again.

Men hurried towards Thor with a litter, and Kate helped them take Ian carefully down. Ahearn, the steward, hurried towards them.

“’Tis ye again!” he cried. “The thief.”

Kate climbed down and walked after the men carrying Ian. “I’m not a thief. I’m a cook. I never took anything from you. Ian needs your help, and I brought him here, that’s all. Now, will you help me take care of him or will you continue your baseless accusations?”

“Someone call Ellair!” he yelled.

“Already done,” one of the men said.

“Take him to my bedchamber,” Kenneth MacKenzie said. The castle constable had appeared from somewhere and watched Ian with a concern.

“Thank you, sir,” Kate said.

He glanced at her with a frown but only nodded.

The men walked to Comyn Tower, as they’d call it, and Kate followed them. They put him on a giant bed in the lord’s bedchamber, which was bigger than Ian’s bedroom in Dundail. He lay so pale, almost gray against the pillows. Kate’s heart squeezed.

Ellair came in.

“Please, help him,” Kate whispered.

He barely glanced at her and continued into the room. He proceeded to clean the wounds, then sewed the ones on Ian’s side, thigh, and head. He put some herbal poultices on them and covered them with clean cloths. Kate stood in the corner, clenching her hands. Tremors of worry went through her, and she almost threw up when she saw the crooked needle piercing Ian’s wounded flesh.

But she couldn’t look away. She was afraid if she did, he’d die, or he’d disappear, and she’d wake up and learn all this was a dream.

Ellair finished and put his things away. When he left the room, Kate followed him. “Is he going to be all right?”

“That is now in the hands of God. He lost much blood, but his wounds didna touch the organs. Still, he may die of blood loss or rot-wound.”

Kate nodded solemnly and returned to the room, praying silently to God or whomever would listen, to save Ian. A few minutes after the healer left, Kenneth MacKenzie came in.

“How is he, lass?” he asked.

Kate stood paralyzed by the door. Seeing Ian ashen and immobile in the bed brought darkness all around her. “He lost a lot of blood, but Ellair says the wounds have missed major organs. Now all we do is wait.”

“What happened?”

“The English,” she said in an expressionless tone. “They’re making another attempt to capture Inverlochy and other castles north. A garrison came through Ian’s lands, and he defended his people. On the way here, six of them attacked us.”