“Nay,” she said. “This is different. Ye feel it as well. Ye have for days now. I ken ye have.”
He did not answer at once.
“I deal in what I can see and prove,” he said after a moment. “Nae in feelings.”
“Aye,” she murmured. “And that has served ye well. But it will nae serve ye now.”
Something in her tone struck too close, echoing thoughts he had not given voice to.
“Ye carry too much alone,” she continued. “Ye always have. Ye think it is strength. Ye think it is what is required of ye.”
“It is,” he said.
“Nae this time,” she replied quietly.
The certainty in her voice held him still.
“Then what would ye have me do?” he asked.
“Let them stand beside ye,” she said. “The ones who would choose it. The ones who already have.”
His jaw tightened slightly. “I willnae ask for burdens to be shared.”
“Nay,” she said. “But that is the trouble.”
They stood in silence for a moment longer before she reached out, placing a hand briefly against his arm, the gesture light yet grounding.
“Daenae wait until ye cannae bear it,” she said.
He inclined his head, though he gave no promise in return. “I will see that ye are tended to,” he said instead.
She gave a faint, knowing look. “Och! I am well enough, daenae waste those poor laddies on me. They have better things to do.”
His eyes lingered on her at the edge of the room. Her movements were precise, and her mumbling had ceased. Frederick left more confused by the old woman’s actions and words than he had ever been before.
What had she meant by “cannae bear it”? And “Let them stand beside ye”?
When Erin had turned her back to add more wood to the flames, he had walked back up the stairs to the great hall. Gnawing on every word she said to him, as if the next hour of repetition would yield anything more than what he already knew.
The remainder of the day passed in a steady progression of tasks, yet his thoughts did not settle as they should have. Orders were given, reports reviewed, men spoken to, and still there remained a quiet tension beneath it all, as though something waited just beyond reach.
By the time evening came, he found himself in the Great Hall, the fire casting a warm glow across the space as voices carried more lightly now. Iona sat nearby, Jamie beside her, the child speaking animatedly of something that had clearly captured her interest.
Frederick paused at the threshold for a moment, watching them. It was a simple sight, and yet it drew him forward all the same.
“Da,” Jamie said at once when she noticed him, her face brightening.
“Aye, lass,” he replied, crossing the room to them.
“We were speaking of the horses,” she said eagerly. “And how I shall care for mine.”
“Ye shall,” he said. “If ye continue as ye have begun.”
Iona watched the exchange quietly, a softness in her gaze that had become more familiar of late.
Before more could be said, the doors at the far end of the hall opened, and a servant stepped forward.
“Me laird,” he said. “Laird O’Donnell has arrived. He requests an audience.”