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“He’s been poisoned,” she said after a moment. “Nae fatal, but it’s nay ordinary illness. Something was slipped intae his food or drink. Maybe earlier this morning, maybe before that. There’s nay fever, nay sign of infection.”

Agnes’s stomach lurched. “Poisoned?”

Mistress Gowan gave her a brief, sharp nod. “Aye. And if one’s been poisoned, I’ll wager he’s nae the only one.”

Her voice rang with certainty, but the horror of it moved slowly through Agnes, as if her mind refused to accept it.

“Check the others,” the healer told Tav. “The ones who were tae escort the lady. If any others show signs, we need tae treat them now.”

Tav was already moving, shouting orders before he was even out the door.

Agnes stayed.

She pressed the cool cloth to Brodie’s forehead, ignoring the trembling in her fingers. Her body worked on instinct, as her thoughts circled back to the courtyard, to the moment his body had crumpled like an empty sack.

Why now?

Why him?

She had known Brodie for a long time and now he lay pale and still while the fire crackled low beside them.

The healer moved between them, murmuring something Agnes didn’t catch. A second later, the door slammed open.

Tav returned with two more guards in tow. One of them was already vomiting into the dirt just beyond the threshold, the other pale and sweating.

“Bloody hell,” the healer muttered. “Bring them in. Now.”

Agnes backed away, heart pounding, her breath catching as the second and third guards were laid on mats. The healer set to work immediately, directing the apprentices and mixing tinctures, her brow furrowed with urgency.

Agnes turned and stepped outside. The cold wind hit her like a slap, but it helped. She had to think.

She found her father near the stables, his face tight with fury and worry. He turned the second he saw her.

“Three guards down,” he said, voice low. “Poison.”

She nodded mutely.

“We’ll find out who did this,” he said. “Whoever snuck intae me keep and fed me men poison will answer fer it.”

His voice was steel, but his eyes flicked over her too quickly. He was worried for her.

“I can stay,” she offered quietly. “Delay the journey. Just a day or two. Until they recover. Until we find out if the danger’s passed.”

“Nay.”

The word landed like a blade.

She blinked. “But?—”

“It has tae be today, Agnes.”

She studied his face, and for the first time, something didn’t quite fit. His voice was too clipped, too rehearsed.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because every hour we wait, the closer war creeps.” Her father’s gaze locked onto hers, unflinching. “We need this alliance, the help of Caithness’s army”

Agnes stiffened. “So, this is nae about safety. It’s about posturing.”

“It’s about survival.” His hand flexed at his side. “Too much delay could be the spark that burns everything.”

She exhaled. Her breath clouded between them.

She looked up at him, her voice even. “Then give me someone ye trust tae ride with me.”

He hesitated. And that hesitation told her the second truth.

“Tav,” she guessed.

Her father nodded. “He’s the only one I can spare who’s capable enough.

“Then let him lead,” she said. “Let me leave. Before anyone else falls.”

It was near dusk when the new party assembled. Agnes stood at the head of the small group, her eyes on the gates that would take her away from everything she knew.

Tav stood beside his mount, checking the straps with deliberate focus. Even bent over his task, his tall, lean frame carried a dangerous grace, his wiry build hiding the kind of strength that pinned bandits with ease.

Agnes couldn’t help but trace with her eyes the scars peeking past his rolled sleeves, the tattoos coiling over his arms like promises of darker stories. His jaw was tight, his mouth a grim line beneath those piercing blue eyes, shadowed with guilt and exhaustion.

The late sunlight gilded his short brown hair, rough from the exhausting day, and she bit her lip. Killer’s looks, protector’s silence. He hadn’t spoken to her since the healer’s cottage. It shouldn’t have bothered her, but it did.

Three new guards had been pulled from the reserve ranks to replace the seasoned men she’d been promised.

Constance hugged her so tightly that Agnes thought her ribs might crack. “Dinnae let them change ye,” her sister whispered. “Nae even a little.”

Agnes nodded, throat too full to speak.

Her father approached last. No words this time. Just a look, as if trying to memorize the shape of her before she was lost to him.

He turned from her then, but not before raising his voice loud enough for the small party to hear.

“Tav Graham will ride as yer assigned guard.” His gaze flicked briefly to Tav.

Tav straightened from his saddle straps, a faint tick in his jaw the only reaction. He didn’t look at her.

Her heart beat louder than the clatter of hooves behind her.

“Aye, me laird,” Tav said, low.

Agnes swallowed against the hollow ache blooming in her chest. The idea of Tav as her personal guard sent a traitorous flutter through her, butterflies low in her belly, heat prickling up her neck. It was unsettling, this sudden awareness of her own pulse.

She climbed into the carriage without another word. The door shut with a finality that made her flinch.

Outside, the wind picked up.

She stared at Tav, willing herself not to feel a thing.