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Once there, heallowed himself to collapse on his bed as evening fell —alone in solitude. The way the bed accepted the burdenof his worry was almost blissful.
“But life is nae meant to be so.”
He sighed deeply. Hereached into hispocket, searching for the portrait of his beloved Magda. He realized that he couldn't take it out ashe usually did. He didn't want to. Asense of shame washed over him, knowing that,deep down,he was no longer the man his late wife had adored.
He had failed her, but wouldn’t fail his clan too.
For the first time in a long time, Jonan headed toward his study. He was on a mission to find a letter he had previously discarded.
There it was, lying in a drawer of his desk.The brown envelope was wax-sealed. The initials on the seal read L.T. As he trailed over the smooth paper with his fingers, he began to think.
He wasn't oblivious tohis people's hardships. Their food supplies were running low, and more trespassers were showing up on their land. Their finances were failing, and he worried that the clan would be marched upon.
Jonan understood that it was solely his responsibility and duty to keep his people safe. The clan required more money, allies, and food. If his people were not conquered, they would almost certainly starve.
He grimaced as he opened the envelope and removed the neatly folded letter. Unfolding it, he reached for his quill.
I accept.
He rummaged through the drawer for the McKay signet ring. He sighed and dipped it into ink before slamming it against the paper, echoing finality. Then he went in search of a messenger boy to send the letter on its way.
As Jonan watched the messenger ride away, a strange dread swirled in his stomach. He retired to his chambers and drank himself to sleep.
