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A ilis McAfee wove through the crowd, Moira at her side. Ailis had hoped the evening would grant a reprieve from watchful eyes, but she worried that would not be the case.

“We’re like deer being hunted,” Moira whispered, her green eyes reflecting torchlight. Ailis nodded.

“Our freedom is an illusion here. We need to find answers so we can leave this place.” Ailis couldn’t wait to get home.

As they turned toward the throng, rough hands seized them. Ailis found herself caught by Bearnard. His rum-laden breath forced her head aside.

“Why do ye keep asking me to dance when it’s apparent ye dinnae have feelings for me?” Ailis asked.

Bearnard’s flushed face creased into sobriety as he tightened his grip. “I must perform all me duties, and this is one of me duties. Me father has commanded it.”

His gaze held hers, revealing a struggle between rebellion and obligation. She understood that bitter taste of duty mixed with personal desires.

“Why has yer father commanded it? Isn’t it odd he would try to force ye to spend time with a certain lass?”

He shook his head. “I do not question. I merely follow orders.”

“Let us dance then,” she conceded, placing her hand upon his. The hollow echo of their movements barely hinted at the joy the dance intended to evoke. Neither of them wanted to dance with the other, but they both knew their obligations.

Moira reluctantly clasped Horas’s hand as they twirled across the floor. The music now seemed a dirge for cherished freedom. As Horas faltered under excess drink, Moira used him to seek out the truth.

“Horas,” she asked, “who made the plan for ye and the others to dance with us?”

“Plan?” Horas murmured, struggling to focus on Moira’s face. “Ah, me father’s rule. We follow, as sons do.”

“But who came up with the scheme?” Moira pressed, curiosity sharpening her tone.

“Scheme? I cannot say,” Horas replied, confused.

Moira sighed, disappointed with his response. Duty obscured even the simplest insights.

Ailis found herself once again dancing with Lucas, who she loathed even more than Bearnard and Horas. His movements were calculated like a chess piece’s advance.

“Lucas,” Ailis asked, smiling sweetly, “the plan is working the way it was intended?” He seemed to be the most drunk of the three, so she held high hopes for the insight he could share with her.

Surely, he’d tell her what she needed to know, and they could be gone in the morning before anyone knew what they were about.

“Aye,” he replied, gaze studying hers intently. “The dance proceeds without fault.”

“And who will rejoice at our adherence to this grand design?” she asked, carefully making her voice sound as innocent as she could. Perhaps she and Moira should have studied the Sutherland twins, knowing they had perfect the art of innocence.

“Me father and the Stewart man,” Lucas admitted.

Ailis’s heart quickened at this revelation. The Stewart? He must be kin to Queen Mary, and he had some sort of plot? She must learn more. She danced on, her mind weaving through implications while her feet moved in time to the music.

*

Ailis scanned the sea of twirling tartans and gleaming buckles under candlelight. She attempted to reach Lachlan with the knowledge she’d gained, but she was repeatedly blocked by clansmen.

Feeling the weight of her duty, frustrated by her thwarted attempts, she searched elsewhere and spotted Alisdair conversing quietly with Fiona.

Navigating the throng with elegance, Ailis intercepted them.

They were much easier to approach than Lachlan and Brodie.

She didn’t know why the couple wasn’t watched as carefully as the rest of them, but it gave her the opening she needed to pass along her information.

“Alisdair,” she whispered before leaning closer. “I have learned something of grave import.”

As the revelry around them faded, Ailis whispered to Fiona and Alisdair, “One of the Stewart men is behind this plan.” Fiona’s eyes showed a flicker of concern, but she remained stoic.

“Can ye be certain?” Alisdair asked quietly.

“Lucas confirmed as much,” Ailis replied. “But the full plan remains unknown. The men are drunk enough that I believe they will tell me everything before the night is out.”

“Return to the dance. Learn more if ye can.” Fiona appeared as eager to get home as the rest of them.

Ailis retreated into the procession of dancers, her thoughts racing despite her serene expression.

Under the great hall’s chandeliers, Ailis danced with Lucas again, swallowing her distaste to get the information they needed so badly. Overwhelmed by the aroma of rum on his breath, she inquired about his family’s plans.

“The Stewarts aim to rule the highlands with me father as second-in-command,” he confided.

“To fracture McAfee strength, one must marry into their line. And we must keep another daughter from marrying a McClain. The McAfees and McClains are both too strong to fight, and together, it would be much more dangerous. So ye canna marry Lachlan McClain. But pick someone other than me. I dinnae like ye.”

Ailis hid her horror and probed gently, “I dinnae like ye either! But are ye sure ye dinnae want to marry Moira?”

“Aye,” Lucas replied. “The McAfee lasses bring shame upon the Highland ways. They act like men, and they flaunt their warrior skills. No one wants to marry them, but marry them we must. I hope Bearnard has to marry one. I dinnae like him or his name. He’s proud of being named after bears, which are ferocious creatures. We need bears in the Highlands.”

Once the celebration ended and guests dispersed, Ailis found Moira and they went up to the bedchamber they shared.

“Moira,” Ailis whispered, “the Stewarts aim to entrap our clan by severing our alliance with the McClains through marriage. I’ve told Alisdair part of it, but I believe I know the whole of it now.”

As Moira’s eyes filled with determination, they joined the others in the glen under the cover of darkness.

They moved swiftly through the keep and the grounds, wanting nothing more than to share what they knew so they could leave the following day.

The idea of never having to see the suitors again filled Ailis with such joy she all but ran to tell them all what she knew.

Under the stars, Ailis spoke amid her sisters and the three McClain men. “The Stewarts plot to bring the Highlands under his rule by dividing us. Our united clans are too powerful for them to challenge.”

Murmurs spread through the group as Fiona met Ailis’s gaze, while Moira’s hands clenched, her spirit defiant. “Then we must get stronger.” Moira smiled.

“What can we do?” Fiona asked.

“I believe we must rally our allies at the McAfee lands,” Ailis answered.

Alisdair nodded. “At dawn, we depart to gather our allied clans before the Stewart’s plans take root. I will take the ladies and head straight for McAfee lands. Brothers, ye must ride for the McClain lands and tell Father what we know and what is happening.”

Lachlan cast a fleeting glance at Ailis, realizing they would be forced to part yet again. “I will do as ye ask, brother. But I want a moment alone with Ailis.”

Ailis regretted that they would have so little time before they must part ways. As Lachlan led her a few paces away from the group, Ailis met his searching gaze.

“Ailis,” Lachlan began, his voice low yet filled with earnestness, “I ken this parting pains us both. But I swear on me honor, I shall return swiftly to ye once we have secured McClain support.”

Ailis nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of their responsibilities. “I trust in ye, Lachlan. I pray we will be together again soon.”

Before she could say more, Lachlan leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, a silent promise exchanged between them. With a final, lingering look, he turned back to join his brother Brodie as they prepared to depart.

With nods of agreement, they prepared for the morrow’s journey. Unwavering in their purpose to defy tyranny, they embraced the upcoming challenge.

*

Before the first light of dawn pierced the ink-black sky, Ailis emerged from the shadowed threshold of the stables. The cool, pre-dawn air bit at her cheeks as she approached the gathering of horses and men, their breaths visible in the crisp morning.

They all knew this journey would be extremely important for themselves and for the Highlands. “I never thought when Fiona was taken that the treachery could run this deep.” Alisdair shook his head. “We’ve all been blind.”

The stable smelled of hay and horse, the earthy scent grounding Ailis as she strode toward her steed, a sturdy gelding with a coat as dark as the night they were leaving behind. She reached out, brushing the horse’s mane and finding comfort in its softness.

Her companions busied themselves with checking girths and adjusting stirrups, the clinking of metal and leather a steady cadence beneath their hushed tones.

“Are we ready then?” she asked quietly.

The men nodded, their expressions set in grim lines that spoke of the gravity of their task. Together, they would return to McAfee land, bearing news that could tilt the precarious balance of power in their favor—or spell disaster if not handled with care.

They would ride together for the first day, and then Lachlan and Brodie would head toward McClain land while Alisdair took the others back to the McAfee keep.

Ailis swung herself into the saddle with a grace born of years spent riding the difficult Highland terrain.

She spotted Moira, who mirrored her determination, though the shadows beneath her sister’s eyes told of restless nights and troubled thoughts.

But there was no room for weariness now.

The future of their clan—and the entire Highlands—rested on the swiftness of their return and the alliances they could call upon and forge.

With a nod from Ailis, the group moved out.

They rode abreast where the path allowed, the thrum of anticipation mingling with the thrill of quiet rebellion in their veins.

As the stables disappeared into the darkness behind them, Ailis felt a twinge of relief.

The onerous task of playing the dutiful guests to conniving suitors was over, but a new day brought fresh challenges.

Alisdair led the joined party of McClains and McAfees away from their temporary prison, toward the promise of home and the rallying cry for unity. She knew the road ahead would be difficult, but the McAfees were warrior-born, and their will was as unyielding as the highland stone.