He rose, his chair scraping softly against the floor, and for a brief moment his gaze returned to Jamie, then to Iona. There was something unspoken there, something that might have been reassurance or promise, though it passed too quickly to be named.
Then he turned and followed Lennox from the hall, and the space he left behind felt larger than it should have.
Jamie remained still for a moment after he had gone, then slowly turned toward Iona. “Does he ken?” the child asked. The question was quiet, but it carried weight.
Iona did not pretend to misunderstand. “Aye,” she said.
Jamie’s fingers curled slightly against the edge of the table. “And he doesnae mind?”
There it was. The fear that ripped Iona’s heart in two. She leaned closer, her voice softening. “He doesnae mind,” she said. “Nae in the way we feared.”
Jamie studied her face as though searching for any sign of falsehood. Iona held steady, willing the truth of it to be enough. After a moment, the tension in Jamie’s shoulders eased, if only slightly. “Truly?” the child asked.
“Truly,” Iona answered.
Jamie nodded, though the movement was small, as if the certainty had not yet fully taken root.
Iona reached for her hand again, this time more deliberately, her thumb brushing lightly over Jamie’s knuckles in a quiet, grounding motion.
The morning light continued to stretch across the table, warming the space between them, and for the first time sincethe question had been asked, Iona allowed herself to believe that perhaps things had truly changed.
18
“Where is she now?”
Frederick did not slow his stride as he spoke, though Lennox kept pace easily beside him.
“In the northern village,” Lennox replied, following Frederick out into the courtyard, where their horses were already saddled. “Her father has nae left her side.”
Frederick nodded once, his jaw set. “Alive, then?”
“Aye,” Lennox said. “Shaken, but whole as far as they can tell.”
Frederick exhaled slowly, though the breath did little to ease the tension that had settled into his chest. Alive was more than they had expected. More than they had hoped for, if he was being honest with himself.
“And she speaks?” he asked.
“She tries,” Lennox answered. “It comes in pieces. Her faither said she was given something. A draught, perhaps. Her thoughts are… unsettled.”
Frederick’s brow furrowed. “Aye. That would account for it. And the healer?”
“Erin is on her way,” Lennox said quickly as he mounted and urged their horses into a sprint. At this speed, they would be at the northern village by midday.
Neither man slowed as they pushed their horses to the absolute brink of exhaustion. These were war-bred stallions, used to the pressure and the challenge of being the first into battle. While this was not war, it was equally as imperative that they arrived at the destination without delay.
As they approached, Frederick led his stallion all the way to the cottage before he even thought to slow. Lennox had waved on the stable boys at the entrance to the village, and they were following quickly behind.
As the men dismounted, the horses dutifully walked themselves to the nearest water trough and waited for the stable boys to arrive and guide them to the stables back at the entrance.
“Who else is within?” Frederick asked.
“Her faither,” Lennox said. “And a few of the off-duty perimeter guards linger near the door.”
Frederick gave a short nod. “See that they keep their distance. The lass will nae speak freely with a crowd pressing in.”
Lennox inclined his head. “Aye.”
They reached the doorway, and Lennox moved ahead to clear the space with a few quiet words. The guards stepped back at once, giving way without question.