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T he McKays crested the hill, their approach thundering with hooves. Time was running out to forge alliances and prepare for conflict, but they were happy to welcome a strong new army to their alliance.

Lachlan stood observing the procession of his grandmother’s family.

The McKays’s arrival signaled the mending of old wounds and rejoining bloodlines after years of separation.

Lachlan and his brothers watched cautiously.

They knew what had caused their mother to leave the McKays, and they knew they must watch the others to be sure women were treated well, but they knew the strength of the McKays would help them out a great deal.

Training commenced in earnest, valor and strength evident in each sword swing and parry. Lachlan used his offbeat sense of humor to bridge the gap between clans, laughing through the ranks, easing tensions, and reminding all of their kinship.

The McKay laird strode up to Lachlan with a grave expression. “I have news, lad,” he began, his voice low and serious. “Only two clans were willing to support us.”

Lachlan’s jaw tightened, but he maintained composure as he replied, “Thank ye for yer efforts and insight, we will make do with what we have.” He clapped the older man on his back. “Remember, we would have no real insight without yer knowledge. We thank ye for it.”

As the clans mingled, sharpening blades and honing strategies, anticipation of battle filled the air.

Personal desires now lay dormant beneath duty.

It was time for leaders to continue to stand strong, warriors to brace against fate, and for united McClains and McAfees with their various allies to face the impending war.

The training had to be split into two groups who trained simultaneously, leaders barking orders and swords clashing in preparation for the upcoming battle.

There were now simply too many men to all train in the same place.

So Lachlan and Brodie worked with the soldiers who were better with swords, and they left Alisdair and their father to train the men with bows and arrows.

From a distance, Lachlan observed his father and Alisdair’s cooperation and discipline, their presence commanding respect among the men. He returned his focus to his own group as Brodie explained the importance of control in sword fighting.

As the sun began to set, the training session came to a close. Lachlan walked to his father, troubled by the overwhelming size of the enemy’s army.

“Father,” he fretted, “what will we do?”

His father regarded him with calm confidence. “We have our family’s legacy and our strategic advantages,” he reassured Lachlan.

Nodding in understanding, Lachlan thought about their intertwined roles in the unfolding story ahead of them.

His father squeezed his shoulder and walked toward the encampment, leaving Lachlan alone. He surveyed the empty training grounds.

Lachlan exhaled and headed for the keep and his bedchamber, finding solace in his father’s confidence despite the uncertain path ahead.

*

The makeshift infirmary, carefully arranged with four neatly made beds, filled Ailis with pride.

The crisp white sheets stretched taut over the wooden frames, creating a sense of order and comfort.

She and Skye had worked tirelessly on this space for two weeks, determined to create a place of healing in the midst of war.

Skye bustled about like a whirlwind, her long skirts swirling around her as she checked supplies and tidied up. “Ailis, do ye think we’ll need more willow bark?” she asked, concern etched on her face.

Ailis smoothed out the creases in her apron and took a moment to survey their handiwork.

The shelves were stocked with jars of herbs and salves, ready for any injury that may come their way.

“We have enough for now,” she answered softly.

“Let’s hope we won’t have the need to use it all.

” Her thoughts turned to the brave soldiers who would soon be filling these beds, wounded and in need of healing.

She closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer, hoping that the battles would not injure too many men.

But she knew deep down that they would do everything in their power to heal those who came through their doors.

That was why they had created this safe haven amidst the chaos of war—because every life mattered, no matter which side they fought for.

As Ailis opened her eyes, a commotion erupted outside the infirmary. Skye rushed to the door, peering out into the courtyard. “It’s the McClain brothers!” she exclaimed. “And it looks like one of them is injured.”

Ailis hurried to join her friend, her heart racing as she caught sight of the three men. Lachlan and Brodie supported their eldest brother, Alisdair, between them. His face was pale, and a dark stain spread across his shirt.

Without hesitation, Ailis pushed open the door. “Bring him inside,” she commanded despite the fear that gripped her heart. The brothers carried Alisdair into the infirmary, laying him gently on one of the beds.

Ailis immediately set to work, cutting away the bloodied shirt to assess the wound. A deep gash marred Alisdair’s side, still seeping crimson. She grabbed a clean cloth and pressed it firmly against the injury, eliciting a groan from the eldest McClain.

“Skye, bring me the yarrow and comfrey salve,” Ailis instructed, focusing on her patient. Skye nodded and hurried to the shelves, gathering the needed supplies.

Lachlan and Brodie hovered nearby, their faces etched with worry. “Will he be all right?” Lachlan asked, his usually playful demeanor replaced by genuine concern.

Ailis glanced up briefly, meeting his piercing blue eyes. “I’ll do everything I can,” she assured him before turning her attention back to Alisdair.

Skye returned with the yarrow and comfrey salve, handing them to Ailis with steady hands.

Ailis worked quickly, cleaning the wound and applying the healing herbs with practiced precision.

As she wrapped a clean bandage around Alisdair’s torso, she could sense the tension in the room, thick and heavy like a wool blanket.

Lachlan paced the length of the infirmary, his boots echoing against the stone floor. “How did this happen?” he demanded. “Who dared to attack me brother?”

Brodie placed a calming hand on Lachlan’s shoulder. “It was a mere accident. We must focus on Alisdair’s recovery.”

Ailis tied off the bandage and stepped back, assessing her work. Alisdair’s breathing had evened out, the color slowly returning to his face. She placed a gentle hand on his forehead, relieved to find no sign of fever.

“He needs rest now,” she murmured, facing the McClain brothers. “The healing herbs will help, but it will take time for his body to mend.”

Lachlan nodded, clenching his jaws. “Thank you, Ailis,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving his brother’s face. “We owe you a great debt.”

Ailis shook her head. “There is no debt. He is family. I only wish to see Alisdair recover.” She glanced at Brodie, who stood quietly by the bed, his brow furrowed with concern. “You both should rest as well. It has been a trying day for us all.”

Brodie nodded, his piercing blue eyes meeting Ailis’s gaze. “Aye, we’ll take turns watching over him. Thank you, Ailis, for all you’ve done.” His voice was soft yet sincere, a flicker of gratitude shining in his eyes.

Ailis laughed softly. “Do ye really think Fiona will let him out of her sight? Someone should fetch her while the two of ye return to yer duties. And Alisdair will be fit as a fiddle in a day or two.”

Skye hurried from the room to fetch Fiona, obviously understanding the import of the injured man’s wife being with him as he recovered.

Despite everything they’d done to ready themselves for the coming battle, worry lingered. Ailis mustered a smile as she approached Lachlan who had just arrived. “How goes the training?”

“The men are ready, as ready as they can be,” he answered distantly. “I wish we had another six months to train, but that’s just not possible.”

“Excuse me a moment,” Ailis told Skye before leading Lachlan into the corridor.

Outside, Lachlan’s expression turned grave. “Ailis, we need to talk.”

She braced herself for the imminent disagreement.

“The danger is closer than we thought,” he warned. “I need ye to promise that ye’ll hide at the first sign of trouble.”

“Lachlan,” she pleaded. “Ye know I will if I can. But I cannae just stand by and do nothing. I want to help. Perhaps I can use me knife from the safety of the keep. I can throw through a window!”

Frustrated, he ran a hand through his dark hair. “We need yer healing expertise, Ailis. If something happens to ye, who will tend to the wounded? Who will care for yer sisters?”

“I will be careful,” she insisted. “I will hide if it becomes too dangerous. But until then, I need to do what I can. Ye of all people should understand that. Ye wouldn’t back off from training the men, even if ye knew it would kill ye.”

He seemed to hold conflict between duty and understanding, but Ailis knew he respected her determination.

“I just want ye to be safe,” he gently assured her.

She touched his arm briefly. “I know. And I want the same for all of ye.” She wished she could walk into his arms and reassure him right there in the hall, but…it didn’t feel like the right place or time.

Lachlan straightened. “Remember yer promise.”

“I will,” she replied.

“Ailis, thank ye—for everything.” He strode away while Ailis returned to the infirmary where Skye sat rubbing her temples as she watched over Alisdair, waiting for Fiona to join them.

“Everything all right?” Skye asked.

“As much as it can be,” Ailis admitted, sitting beside her. Images of Lachlan and her sisters filled her mind, duty and desire tugging at her relentlessly.

“We’re ready,” Skye confirmed. “Ye need not worry about what else should be done.”

Ailis nodded. “As ready as we can be.”