Page 2

Chapter

Two

“ A gain.”

“You’ve hit every mark, my lady.”

“Nay,” Avelina said to her brother’s squire. She, of course, as a woman, had no squire. But neither that, nor the fact that she was, indeed, a woman, stopped her from training with the bow she’d learned to use many years ago. “That second one missed its mark.”

“Most men cannae come close to the bullseye line, my lady. That you’ve hit it with your worst shot, and that the meal is surely nearly finished by now—”

“Again,” Avelina said more firmly. And then added, “If you please.”

She was no tyrant, and as Callum fetched her arrows, she realized he was likely hungry, having been with her much of the afternoon. The training yard had emptied long ago, and so when he returned, Avelina took the arrows and told him to leave.

“Go to the meal. I will be along,” she said.

He looked hesitant. For good reason. Avelina’s brother, the chief, had given the boy of ten and five a most ridiculous task. Not to leave her side during training.

Helpful at times? Aye. But since the training yard was located within the outer walls of the castle, there was no reason for such a precaution.

Did Ewan believe their castle walls would be breached at any moment, putting her in danger?

She’d asked him that question many times, always to be given the same answer.

“The training yard, alone, is no place for a woman.”

Which made little sense. In fact, as she landed all four arrows directly in the center this time, gathered her bows, and made her way back to the keep, Avelina decided to speak with Ewan. Without changing gowns, she did precisely that, sitting next to him on the dais.

“I’ve saved you a pear tart,” he said, the meal having been presented already. When one of the servants asked what she wished for him to bring, Avelina moved the pear tart toward her.

“This shall be all,” she said.

The servant looked at her oddly, and Ewan asked what the maid would not. “You will eat a pear tart as your meal?”

With more than thirty men, and some women, eating in the hall with them, Ewan had been forced to raise his voice to be heard. The weather had improved of late, making for a rowdier bunch than usual.

’Twas the opening she needed.

“On the morrow,” she speculated as her wine goblet was filled, “is it not possible I could be in the training yard when I am suddenly attacked? Or even killed?” To think my last meal might have been a pear tart. “What a sweet idea indeed.”

Ewan, accustomed to her and her antics, did not hesitate.

“I regret to inform you, sister dear, if that were to indeed occur, your last meal would likely have been fresh bread or perhaps porridge. Or do you not plan to break your fast on the morrow so that this”—he indicated the tart Avelina currently ate—“will be your last meal?”

She had not thought of that.

“You are many things,” Ewan said, taking a sip of wine as was his custom at the evening meal. All other times, ’twas ale for him. “Fiery. Brave. A skilled archer. But cleverer than me?” He shrugged as if to say, nay, she was not that.

“I disagree.” Avelina thought back not very far into the past to present her case. “Less than a sennight ago, when you could not determine the cause of the smell in the east tower—”

“I did not try overly hard before you discovered the rotten piece of meat.”

“I was told you had been looking all morn for the source.”

He did not comment, so she added, “But since I know Whitefoot’s habits better than you. . .”

“Since you cannot be parted with him,” Ewan said. “Some would think him your child and not merely a dog by how you treat him.”

“Do not disparage my bairn,” she teased.

“Jest all you wish, but you came to the hall annoyed with me,” he countered. “I would know the reason.”

Ewan had been the most observant man in the room for as long as she could remember.

Perhaps it was because he’d been forced to lead at such a young age.

The Battle of The Black Friars had taken thirty of Clan MacKinlay’s men in one battle those many years ago—their father, their uncles, and nearly all who would have been named chief losing their lives in one fell swoop.

At ten and six, Ewan had become the youngest chief of their clan.

For years her brother had been appointed guardians, who called themselves the provisional chiefs of their clan until Ewan came of age.

But that age was still far too young in Avelina’s opinion.

His childhood taken from him, her brother had always served more as a father to her, and these times when he could tease her, like a brother might, were ones she cherished.

But the chief was back.

She sighed. “You know already. Your silly decree—”

“’Tis not silly, Sister.”

“So you believe.”

“So I know.”

“My opinion matters little?”

“Do not attribute words to me I did not utter, Lina.”

She was about to respond when their cousin Fergus burst into the hall. Avelina wasn’t sure why their clansman was not at the meal, as he lived with his wife in Castle MacKinlay, serving as her brother’s second. The man was never far from Ewan.

“I must speak with you, Chief,” he said, the formal address due to others being present. “Immediately.”

“Come.” Ewan motioned him closer. “You may do so here.”

Fergus gave Avelina a quick nod, acknowledging her presence and Ewan’s willingness to receive the message with her present. For all his faults, her brother did not typically leave her in the dark. As nothing more than the chief’s sister, she was aware this was not always the case.

“There are rumors.”

Avelina had never in all her life seen Fergus look as he did now. The man’s deep auburn beard hid much of his face, but ’twas plain to see in his eyes, their poor cousin was concerned.

“Tell me,” her brother said, his voice hard.

“A merchant just arrived from the village. Said a pair of riders wearing the Duncraig plaid were seen coming through.”

Avelina whipped her head toward her brother. Though the weather had improved of late, summer approaching fast, a shiver ran through her as if a cold blast of air had just invaded their keep. Avelina actually hugged herself as if to keep warm.

“Impossible.”

Fergus swallowed. “I found and spoke with the merchant myself. He is just outside the keep. And is certain. The man has been alive long enough to know the Duncraig plaid even if it’s not been seen around these parts for many years.”

“So you are saying he is old?”

“Aye.”

Her brother had little patience with anything but directness. “Say as much, Cousin.”

“I will tell you then, ’tis them.”

“Coming here?”

“Appears so, aye.”

As her brother said, ’twas impossible. “They’d never do such a thing,” she blurted. “Nay. Not possible.”

Their oldest enemies, Clan Duncraig, had all but decimated Clan MacKinlay.

’Twas only by the sheer will of the women who remained behind to forge alliances to keep them safe that they had survived.

The next generation, including her brother, had led the regrowth that made Clan MacKinlay a force to be reckoned with once again.

From the ashes.

The new clan motto they’d adopted nigh five years ago.

In all this time, not once had a Duncraig dared come near their land.

Neither had MacKinlay clansmen tempted fate by finding themselves within two days’ ride of Clan Duncraig’s land.

If there was a meeting of the clans and either were to attend, the other held back.

“’Tis exceedingly odd,” her brother mused.

Nay, more than odd. “’Tis an outrage. Do they believe they can simply ride through the gates of our castle unbidden? As if we would allow them entry.”

Her brother nodded, seemingly agreeing with her. “I cannae think they mean to gain entry, but we will go nonetheless.” He stood. “To be certain.”

As if expecting as much, Fergus already stepped away from the dais and began to head to the hall’s entrance.

Avelina would not be dissuaded from accompanying them. When Ewan looked at her as if to say, “You should remain here,” Avelina preempted him with, “You will have to pin me down screaming to keep me behind.”

A prospect, it seemed, Ewan did not relish. Shaking his head, he followed Fergus and Avelina followed both men.

Partly infuriated at the audacity of these Duncraig clansmen and partly curious, she lifted the hem of her gown to catch up with Ewan and Fergus.

Even worse, she cursed the newcomers in her head, for she’d had only a few bites of her pear tart.

As if she needed another reason to resent the most unwelcome intrusion Castle MacKinlay had ever seen in her lifetime.

’Twas an interesting turn of events she could never have predicted.

Duncraig clansmen. Here. She had to see evidence of it to believe it.