It was that feeling of being settled that he did not like.
Not because it was unwelcome, but because it was unplanned.
Frederick did not favor unplanned things.
He rose before the sun had fully broken the horizon.
By the time the first light touched the upper towers, he was already dressed and moving through the courtyard, his thoughts sharpened by the cold air and the familiar rhythm of early morning.
It was there that Ariella and Maxwell found him.
They approached together, though Maxwell’s attention never strayed far from his wife. His gaze moved constantly, assessing ground, distance, proximity, as though threat might emerge from stone itself if he failed to anticipate it.
Frederick waited as they drew nearer.
“Ye are awake early,” Ariella observed.
“I am always awake early,” he replied.
She watched him in silence for a moment, then smiled faintly. “Aye. But ye are thinking more than usual.”
Maxwell snorted softly. “That is because he has more to think about.”
Frederick gestured toward the path that circled the outer grounds. “Walk?”
They fell into step without further comment.
For a time, the conversation remained where it always did between men who understood responsibility.
Land.
Resources.
The coming winter.
Maxwell spoke of road conditions beyond the eastern ridge, of a stretch of ground that had grown unstable after heavy rain. Frederick made note of it, committing the detail to memory. Lennox would need to send men to assess it. Repairs now would prevent larger problems later.
“The southern boundary remains quiet,” Maxwell added. “Nay movement worth noting. Though that may nae last.”
“It rarely does,” Frederick said.
Maxwell glanced at him then, his expression sharpening slightly. “I heard there was trouble near your border recently.”
Frederick did not slow. “There was.”
“Aye,” Maxwell said. “And the woman?”
“Still missing.”
Maxwell’s teeth set hard. “And the men responsible?”
“One escaped.”
That was enough to shift the tone.
Maxwell’s gaze darkened. “That is nay small matter.”
“Nay,” Frederick agreed.