Page 41 of Highland Heroine (Brides of the Highlands #3)

H ooves thundered against the damp earth, shattering the misty silence of the McAfee estate.

Moira’s heart raced as the messenger dismounted, his cloak billowing. The family gathered in the great hall, whispers and the scent of peat thickening the air. Even before the wax-sealed parchment was presented, Moira felt an oppressive weight of impending news.

Her father, Duncan, stood at the head of the clan, eyes sharp as his dirk fixed on the missive. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow but failing to dispel uncertainty.

“Let us see what tidings this dawn brings,” Duncan said, his voice steady yet laced with concern. The family drew closer in anxious anticipation.

Duncan broke the seal with unyielding hands. Moira held her breath, knowing the contents would have consequences for both their clan and the balance of power in the Highlands.

He unfolded the parchment; each line he read aloud etched gravity onto his face—silent stories told by furrows and creases. His eyes remained focused on their fate while kin listened intently, expressions weaving a tapestry of hope, fear, and resolve.

In flickering light, Duncan McAfee shared the queen’s will with his clan, each word rippling through their lives like stones cast into still waters.

“By royal decree,” Duncan announced, “the queen declared the fate of those captured here. All shall die by blade on the morrow, except Callum Sinclair, whose bloodline grants him mercy.”

The McAfee family gasped as the decision’s weight settled upon them.

This act threatened to ignite a political firestorm throughout the Highlands.

Sparing Callum hinted at hidden alliances and power struggles, endangering clans like the McAfees.

When her father read on, Moira realized he’d been spared for the sake of the remaining Sinclairs.

Ailis stood amidst murmurs, her green eyes mirroring the hearth’s flame. Her usually steady hands trembled. The news wounded her deeply. In sparing Callum, the queen burdened him with the guilt of what his family had done to deserve retribution—a fate some deemed worse than death.

Pressure etched lines of worry onto Ailis’s features as her father folded the missive. She was familiar with Highland politics, but its harsh reality left her shaken. In the silence that followed, Ailis’s turmoil mirrored the imminent grief befalling the Sinclair family.

Later, Ailis stared at the fading embers, lost in thoughts of Arran Sinclair’s fate.

The missive’s words haunted her, and she struggled with her sense of responsibility.

She was the one who had been first tasked with deciding how to punish them, but she hadn’t done what she’d been asked.

And now people were dying. As a healer, she couldn’t think of anything worse than killing.

“Come away, sister,” Moira urged, gripping Ailis’s arm, while Fiona offered silent support as they walked through McAfee Keep’s stone corridors. In a secluded alcove, the sisters tried to comfort Ailis.

“It was out of yer hands,” Fiona reassured her.

“Arran took part in the Stewart’s betrayal of our queen,” Moira added firmly. “Justice grinds without favor.”

Ailis acknowledged their words but couldn’t silence her inner turmoil. She contemplated the fragile threads of fate that spared one life and ended another’s.

In the dim alcove, Moira crouched before Ailis and asked what troubled her. Ailis wondered if she could have changed the queen’s judgment had she fought harder.

“Arran made his choices,” Fiona said, placing a comforting hand on Ailis’s shoulder. “We cannot change the past or stop justice from being served.”

Ailis questioned Callum’s survival compared to his father’s death, but Fiona reminded her that justice and politics often intertwined, especially when dealing with deceitful acts like those of the Sinclairs.

“Callum’s life serves as warning and opportunity,” Fiona said, her hair catching a beam of light, “a chance for peace on favorable terms.”

“Peace bought with blood,” Ailis whispered, mourning the cost of stability in the Highlands.

Moira’s hand instinctively found her dirk. “Ye need not carry this alone, Ailis,” she said firmly. “The Sinclairs betrayed our trust, spilled our blood. Justice is no burden for ye to bear.”

Ailis turned toward Moira, feeling the certainty in her sister’s voice. Moira’s gaze held only unwavering Highland justice.

“Ye ken well the cost of mercy in these times,” Moira continued, embodying McAfee lineage pride. “Laird Sinclair answered for his crimes. ’Tis the way of our land.”

Ailis sighed, accepting the strength offered by Moira’s resolve. “Your heart speaks with the courage I sometimes lack,” she admitted.

“Courage resides in ye as much as any McAfee,” Moira responded, resting a hand on Ailis’s arm. “Different we may be, but equal in strength, my sister.”

Ailis met Moira’s eyes and felt their shared bond. “Thank ye, Moira,” she murmured. “For your fire when my own falters.”

“Always,” Moira replied softly.

Together, they stood in the great hall as kin, fortified against the coming storm. With Moira by her side, Ailis knew they would face whatever the Highlands held in store.

The sisters’ conversation intertwined loyalty and concern, interrupted by Granny McAfee’s quiet entrance. Her petite frame contrasted the strength emanating from her.

“Ah, my bonnie lasses,” Granny said, her voice like smooth pebbles found beside a river. “Ye bear the weight of the world on yer shoulders.”

Ailis felt lighter in Granny’s presence, the old woman’s eyes brimming with humor.

“Yer eyes are storm clouds, Ailis,” Granny observed. “But even the fiercest tempest gives way to clear skies. Sit with me a spell.”

In a quiet nook with walls that had witnessed generations of solace-seeking McAfees, Granny held Ailis’s hand.

“Let me tell ye a tale, child,” she began, her voice echoing ancient Highland storytellers. “When I was a lass, our clan faced discord like a black fog over the moor.” She recounted her brother’s accusation of treachery and the clan’s division.

Granny locked eyes with Ailis. “We weathered that storm because we held fast to each other. We found justice not in retribution but through understanding leadership and the price of peace.

“The true measure of courage is ceasing wars within ourselves. Trust your leader’s soul, Ailis.” The older woman wrapped her arms around Ailis, trying to give her some comfort. They all understood Ailis’s guilt, and wanted to ease it any way they could.

Granny’s words settled upon Ailis like a cold yet pure first snow upon mountains. In Granny’s wisdom, she found hope that the clan would endure even in dark times.

“Thank ye, Granny,” Ailis whispered, more connected than ever to her land and legacy. “For reminding me of who we are.”

“Who ye are,” corrected Granny gently, “is exactly who ye need to be.”

Ailis clasped Granny McAfee’s hands. “I’m grateful for your wisdom—and for all of you.” Her gaze connected with Moira and Fiona, the bond between them palpable.

“Ye needn’t thank us,” Fiona said, her warmth comforting. “We stand together.”

Moira nodded fiercely, her spirit undimmed. “The Sinclairs struck our heart, but it’s a heart shared by many.”

Ailis rose, feeling supported though uneasy, ready to face what lay ahead. They left the alcove, the grand hall now somber instead of expectant.

Duncan addressed the clan, his voice heavy. “We cannot alter the queen’s decision or ignore its implications. Our path forward must be tread with caution and unity.”

Ailis joined the circle as they discussed strategies and future risks. Duncan concluded, “The strength of the McAfees lies not just in sword and shield, but in the courage of our convictions. We shall navigate these troubled waters with honor.”

As tasks were assigned and carried out, Ailis felt renewed unity within the clan. The keep stood as a testament to her people’s endurance. She was ready to play her part as a McAfee and would not falter.

Ailis stood by the hearth, watching the embers dance and crackle in the dimming hall. The McAfee clan surrounded her, faces etched with resolve as the stone walls of McAfee Keep absorbed their determination.

“Through unity, we have withstood storms,” Duncan proclaimed. “And united, we shall face this.”

Ailis felt the weight of her father’s words. Across the room, Fiona consoled a younger clanswoman with compassion and silent promises. Granny McAfee shared wisdom with an elder in her comforting voice.

“Tomorrow, we rise with the dawn,” Duncan said. “We will meet our fate with fortitude that has defined the McAfee name for centuries.”

Ailis touched the cool stone wall, feeling its unyielding solidity beneath her fingers—a reminder of her legacy and spirit.

“Let us rest tonight in the knowledge that we are one clan, one family,” Duncan finished.

The McAfees dispersed with singular purpose etched into their hearts. Ailis lingered, eyes tracing shadows on the stone floor that hinted at challenges to come.