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W ithin three days, the wall had been repaired and the main gate reset.

Andrew had put his men to helping Torridon’s men in the repairs, for it was evident that there were woefully few for such a large job.

Fortunately, several of Andrew’s soldiers were handy craftsmen and carpenters, and the task was completed with relative speed.

The past three days had also been an adjustment period for Andrew, and he spent most of his time with Sully, Thane, and various other Torridon knights, learning all that he could about the Dalmellington army and their tactics.

He ate, slept, and pissed Dalmellington.

He talked to everyone he could, even the lowliest soldiers, to learn everything he needed to know.

In order to fight an enemy, he had to know the enemy, so Andrew spent his days learning about the army he was being paid to destroy.

In fact, he found himself almost wishing that the Dalmellington army would come again and lay siege, for he wanted to see them in action to confirm what he had been told.

But three days of peace passed, and so did a fourth, and Torridon was repaired to withstand another battle.

But Andrew knew, instinctively, that the peace wouldn’t hold.

If everything he’d been told was true, then the Dalmellingtons would come again, soon enough.

The Dalmellington patrol Sully had ridden to intercept the night Andrew had arrived had managed to send an advance messenger to Burnton Castle.

They’d discovered that very quickly when a Dalmellington man they captured was quick to inform them.

It was therefore assumed that Colin Dalmellington knew of The Red Fury’s army at Torridon, which changed the dynamics of the situation considerably.

What Colin would do with that knowledge remained to be seen.

So they watched and they waited, Torridon men alongside d’Vant men, and Andrew and Sully right along with them.

There was a tension in the air that never seemed to go away, the apprehension of men who found themselves in a battle every time they let their guards down.

Andrew understood that apprehension well.

But all the time he was spending time with Sully and Etienne and the knights of Torridon, there was one person he wasn’t spending time with.

That little spitfire who liked to slug him in the throat.

Josephine hadn’t been around much at all, much to Andrew’s disappointment.

He never saw her during the day, only at night when they would feast on any number of culinary delights from Torridon’s stores.

She would sit on the dais, the lord’s table, in the most resplendent of gowns while he sat down the table or across from her, hardly speaking with her, mostly speaking with Sully or any number of other men.

He was rather tired of speaking to other men.

Justine, in direct contrast of her sister’s fine gowns, always sat on her sister’s right hand and always looked as if she were wrapped in black sheets.

But the two girls constantly seemed to be isolated, talking only with each other or, occasionally, to a Torridon knight.

For Justine, it was probably true to character. But for Josephine, he wondered why.

The day he’d arrived, she seemed to be very much aligned with her knights, and they with her.

She did not seem to be the withdrawn type.

He wondered if her bout with her sister’s potion was still affecting her, though it turned out to be harmless.

Through Oletha, Andrew discovered that Justine had mistakenly put dill in the potion rather than hemlock, for the two flowers looked very similar, yet dill was yellowish-green instead of white.

Oletha had had a good laugh at Justine’s amateurish mistake, though she never let on to the young witch-hopeful.

Still, Andrew thought Josephine seemed withdrawn and tired, at least from the little he saw of her.

He was disappointed, hoping to at least pick up with the flirtatious repartee they’d had the night of his arrival.

But the days passed and there was no interaction, and he was coming to wonder if Josephine’s health was poor in general, although she appeared robust enough.

He mentioned it in passing to Oletha, but the little woman had shrugged and stated gaily that the mistress looked well enough to her.

This brought him to the subject of the mysterious Dewey.

He had yet to be found, but nobody seemed particularly concerned.

Sully mentioned that, sometimes, Dewey would disappear for days on a supply hunt, combing the woods and hills in an attempt to restock his vast array of herbs, flowers, and fungi.

Sully also mentioned that Dewey was quite ancient, an old man who had learned the art of healing and alchemy from his father, who had learned such things from his father.

Dewey evidently had ancient books bound in human skin, and some whispered that he had a ghost in a bottle hidden somewhere in his chamber.

It was enough to keep people from wandering into his rooms, in any case.

A withdrawn lady notwithstanding, Andrew thought it was all quite curious. Truly, what an interesting place Torridon Castle was turning out to be.

*

Josephine had, indeed, been remote, she knew, but it wasn’t for the reasons people thought.

It had nothing to do with the arrival of the mercenary army, or even Justine’s attempt to poison her.

It all had to do with the fact that the day following Andrew’s arrival, she had received a dispatch from King Alexander.

A royal rider had come and gone, leaving a message that Sully had inquired about, once, and Josephine had refused to elaborate on.

He’d dropped the subject but, to Josephine, it wasn’t a subject easily put aside.

In, fact, it was quite important. The message she’d received had informed her that the king would be visiting around the third of the next month, which was a mere week away.

At first, she had been thrilled with the prospect of entertaining the king, her distant cousin through her mother’s side of the family.

Colin wouldn’t dare attack so long as the king was at Torridon.

But the euphoria soon gave way to darker emotions, for she began to suspect this would not be a social call to resolve the feud between the Dalmellingtons and the de Carrons.

At her age, and unmarried, a sure way of resolving a feud was marriage.

If King Alexander ordered her to marry Colin Dalmellington, which had been proposed before, she could not refuse.

Frightened, and sickened at the thought, the next few days passed in a blur for Josephine.

Only she and Justine were aware of the contents of the letter, for she had not even told Sully.

To be truthful, she was afraid to. With the hatred he had for the Dalmellington, she was unsure of what his reaction would be and she wanted to think through all of the possibilities before broaching the subject.

It wasn’t as if he could fight off the king, either.

They would both be at his mercy.

And then… there was The Red Fury.

Good Lord, the man was proving to be a tremendous distraction for her.

The second day after his arrival, she had watched from on high in the west tower down to the practice field in the outer ward where Andrew d’Vant was mock sword-playing with a few Torridon knights, as well as a few of his own commanders.

What she saw utterly amazed her.

For such a large man, he moved with the speed of a hummingbird and had the skill to match God Himself.

He was so quick and so strong, that most men didn’t have the chance to see what had hit them before they fell to the soft earth.

Josephine had always considered Sully the best knight she’d ever seen, but not any longer.

She was certain The Red Fury could outfight even Sully.

Yet, as she watched, there was something more she sensed in Andrew’s movements.

He seemed so… angry. There was violence behind every thrust and every parry.

It was as if he were truly trying to kill someone and kill them again, with every movement of the sword.

In his business, he had to make every effort count, and it was obvious that he did just that.

Still… it seemed to her that it was more than a business to him. What he did, the way he moved… it was personal.

But he was enthralling to watch. She was riveted to the flash of his sword as he fought with a madness that set an uneasiness in her chest. He frightened her with his intensity.

And then, it hit her– fury . He was fighting with fury.

Now, it became clear how he received his nickname.

It was clear in every move he made. It was then that Josephine began to believe that, mayhap, the man called The Red Fury was worth five thousand marks.

There was something about the man that made him seem worth every pence.

And she felt interest in him that wouldn’t seem to go away.

The only time Josephine was ever in the same room with him was at the evening meal in the great hall, where she had had an unobstructed view of Andrew as he sat with his men at the same table.

But he seemed not to notice her. Instead, he was very engaged with the big blond general that followed him around like a dog.

Or, he was engaged with Sully. Although she was not in a particularly social mood, somehow it irked her that he did not so much as acknowledged her presence at the meal.

Not that she was going to be the first one to make a move.