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Anna shook as she stared at the dead bodies littering the floor of the church. Dim daylight was thrown on the blood, the gashes, and the severed limbs from the narrow windows high above. Candlelight cast a sickly yellow light on the dented armor and bloodied swords. The air in the room was suffocating, the stench sickening.

“Anna, I am sorry…” Laoghaire whispered into her ear.

Her cousin’s hand clenched tightly to Anna’s. Laoghaire’s eyes were wet and desperate, her chin trembling.

“I have been so foolish… All this death…all this carnage…and for what? I should have never said anything.”

Anna squeezed her cousin’s hand. “It’s all right, Laoghaire. ’Tis not yer fault. ’Tis all my doing. Ye didna say anything that wasna true.”

And now, she didn’t have to marry Philip.

But this was what she had caused.

“Go hide over there,” she said to Laoghaire, pointing at a small alcove behind the altar.

As her cousin did that, Anna realized the guilt was mixed with the strange elation in her chest, like she was full of warm air.

She was free. She had freed herself, but at a cost. The cost of men’s lives. The cost of whatever punishment her father would bring upon her.

Because he was furious. He was looming over David, yelling at him. And yet, David kept throwing glances at her, like he couldn’t wait to talk to her.

But why was her father so angry with David, when David had found the perfect solution to the situation? She should be worried about her father’s wrath, which would surely turn against her soon. But strangely, she didn’t care.

She didn’t want Bruce’s approval anymore. Whatever he needed her for, she’d always be a bastard daughter to him, and he’d always have more important things to do than have a relationship with her. What did she expect, anyway? Invitations to feasts and hawk hunts? Staying for a visit with him and his wife? Some sort of gesture of his affection?

No. She’d outgrown that, anyway.

Much more important was David, and her own approval of herself. That she stood up for herself and respected her own actions.

However, Bruce could still harm David.

“Is this true, ye bastart?” he bellowed at David. “Did ye dishonor her?” He turned to Anna. “And are ye really with child?”

Silence fell on the church, and Anna slowly descended the low staircase from the altar and made her way through the carnage, carefully stepping around the dead bodies. David held her in his gaze, making her all tingly and warm as she walked.

What could she say? If she said yes, Bruce would want them to marry. And David would do the right thing, stay with her. And so, she’d be his jailor. She’d be Dugald MacDowell, imprisoning David forever in the oubliette of their marriage.

But she wasn’t that person. She never wanted him to be captive. She loved him; she wanted him to be happy and to be free.

Even if it wouldn’t be with her, in the time where she belonged.

She stood before Bruce and looked into his eyes, straightening her back as much as she could. She felt clammy from the sweat and the sprays of blood on her face and neck.

She opened her mouth to deny it, but David interrupted her. “Yes, Your Grace,” he said. “It’s all true. I dishonored her. She may be with my child.”

Bruce’s lips tightened in a thin line, and he growled and shook his head. “Ye son of a whore. Ye dishonored the daughter of a king. And nae just that. Look around ye. Ye dared to undo all the progress I had achieved through years of blood and the deaths of hundreds of men. Through so much sacrifice.”

Anna’s heart lurched. “Father, please, ’tis nae his fault…”

But Bruce raised his sword towards David. The blood on the blade glistened as he pressed the edge against David’s chest. David swallowed sharply, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Dugald MacDowell slit my two brothers’ throats,” the Bruce growled low. “The English quartered and killed my brother Neil in Kildrummy Castle and took my wife and daughter prisoner. They’re still captives with the English. Countless clans lost their men. Daughters, sisters, and mothers lost their fathers, brothers, and sons. And I had a chance to win a bloodless victory, and ye have undone that.”

Anna’s limbs cooled as she started realizing the depths of her father’s fury. “Father, please punish me… David didna—”

“Yer Grace—” said Aulay.

“Please, Yer Grace…” said Colum.

Bruce only pressed the edge of the sword harder against David’s chest. “As a father I wilna tolerate ye dishonoring my daughter. Every Scotsman kens a man who does this will be killed.”