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“Feiyan!”

Adam waved up at his sister from Darragh’s courtyard.

“Adam!” she cried.

She’d been doing her taijiquan drills atop the wall walk as usual. He’d been watching her graceful movements for several moments from below, peering between the crenellations. It was a rare person who’d dare interrupt Feiyan’s exercises. But Adam knew she’d forgive her brother.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, leaning over the parapet to peer down at him. “No one warned me you were coming.”

“Am I not welcome in my sister’s keep?” He crossed his arms in false outrage.

“Don’t be a dalcop,” she scolded. “I’ll be right down.”

She eyed the rampart for a moment, as if she was considering leaping down to the courtyard from there. Then, being heavy with child, she reconsidered and rushed back into the keep to take the stairs.

Adam couldn’t help but smile as she waddled briskly across the courtyard. It wouldn’t be long before she delivered.

Feiyan, however, was frowning. Instead of the welcome embrace he expected, she gave him a great shove. Even the castlefolk milling about the courtyard seemed taken aback.

“Where have you been?” she demanded. Then, glancing about at the witnesses, she lowered her voice to bite out, “The last time I knew your whereabouts, you were pretending to be the Pope’s emissary at Perth, negotiating with the king.”

“And?”

“If the king had found out—”

“But he didn’t.”

“Do you know the risk you took?”

“Risk?” he hissed. “You’re a great one to talk about risk. You’re an outlaw.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “An assassin.”

“Was. Besides, I didn’t kill him.”

“Nay, you married him.”

She rubbed her belly, probably glad she hadn’t killed Dougal after all.

She narrowed her eyes to slits. “Anyway, I never tried to kill a king.”

“Would anyone know if you had?” Feiyan’s stealth was legendary.

She ignored that. “And then you disappeared.” She gave him a chiding punch in the shoulder.

“That’s not true. I came to the tournament at Perth.”

“Nay, you didn’t.”

He arched a brow at her. “Would anyone know if I had?”

She exhaled in disgust and frustration. It annoyed her immensely that she could never recognize her own brother in disguise.

“So why have you come?” she asked.

He frowned, disappointed. “Do I need a reason?”

“Nay, but there’s always a reason.”

That much was true. Protecting a large clan like Rivenloch, spread from coast to coast across Scotland, kept him occupied. It was rare he had time for leisurely visits.

“Well, first, I’ve brought you something for trade.”

He held up the satchel.

Her eyes widened. “Your satchel?”

“’Tis mostly clothing and motley bits I have no use for.”

“You’re giving up the contents of your infamous satchel? Are you sure there’s room in the courtyard to empty it?”

He smirked. “The satchel isn’t mine. It belonged to…someone who doesn’t need it anymore.”

She nodded. “Someone you killed.”

“Killed?” he exclaimed. “Why is that the first thing you think, sister? I hardly ever kill people. You, on the other hand…”

Feiyan waved his words away. “So what do you want in trade?”

“A gambeson. A coat of mail. Weapons. Oh, but,” he said, digging in the satchel to retrieve the purse of silver. “I’ll keep this.”

She raised her brows at the clink of coins. “Indeed? Now who’s the outlaw?”

“I earned this,” he assured her.

From across the courtyard came a friendly call. “Is that Adam?”

Adam’s brother-in-law Dougal came striding toward him. Since his tenure as Laird of Darragh, Dougal appeared even more self-assured and responsible. He carried their firstborn daughter, and his eyes shone with pride and the spark of imminent fatherhood again.

“Dougal, good day,” Adam said. He winked and waggled his fingers at his wee niece, who shyly buried her face in her father’s gambeson.

“Sweetheart,” Feiyan said by way of greeting her husband, “Adam’s decided to go to war.”

“What?” Dougal said, putting down the three-year-old, who ran off across the courtyard.

“What?” Adam echoed. “I didn’t say that.”

“Why else would you ask for weapons and armor?” Feiyan asked.

“’Tisn’t that simple,” Adam said.

Dougal gripped his shoulder in a brotherly fashion. “If ’tis armor ye need, then armor ye shall have. I remember all ye did for us in the battle for Darragh.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m not going to war.” Then he furrowed his brows. “At least, I don’t think so. And I’m not asking for charity. I’ve brought something in exchange.”

Adam handed the satchel to Dougal.

Dougal narrowed his eyes at the satchel. “This isn’t—”

“Nay,” Feiyan said. “’Tisn’t the satchel.”

Dougal seemed disappointed. “Where is your famous satchel then?”

“’Tis…on loan at the moment.”

“On loan?” Feiyan didn’t miss a thing. “What does that mean?”

Dougal gave her a chiding smile. “Now, Feiyan, let’s not interrogate your poor brother. At least not yet,” he said with a wink. “Come in to the hall. We’ll have an ale.”

As Dougal requested, they kept the conversation light and friendly.

Feiyan told Adam about the frustrations of sparring while pregnant.

Dougal talked about the challenges of managing a keep.

And Adam regaled them with some of his recent adventures.

He omitted mentioning the enchanting shape-shifter he’d met on his travels.

Of course, it would come out eventually. Feiyan might not recognize him in disguise. But nothing else missed her notice.

After supper, she invited him to the solar, where she could look through the contents of the satchel. She immediately perceived what he’d neglected to mention.

“These are a woman’s things.”

He shrugged. “I told you I have no use for them.”

“I suppose ’twould do no good to ask how you came by them?”

“I’ll tell you…one day.”

“Fine. I’ll donate the clothing to the local convent.”

“Good.”

“Now will you tell me why you need battle gear?”

Swearing her to secrecy, he explained what he’d heard about the king planning an attack at Galloway. They both knew the moment the clan found out, all of Rivenloch would rush to defend the king. But Adam felt they needed better information before they charged in blindly.

Feiyan agreed, but he could tell she wanted to get involved. She was frustrated that her condition made it impossible.

Though Adam would never tell her so, he was glad she was incapacitated. Galloway was too close to Darragh for his comfort. The last thing his pregnant sister and her new laird of a husband needed was a war so soon after the battle for their castle.

He told her his plans. He meant to see if what the other lairds at Perth had said was true, that Fergus had been making raids on their lands.

“One more thing,” Feiyan said as he rose to bid her goodnight.

He turned at the door.

“I know you never go to tournaments,” she said.

That made him smile. He never missed a Rivenloch tournament. It was just that no one ever recognized him, and he always slipped away before they could.

“But we’re having one in late summer, here at Darragh,” she said, rubbing her round belly again. “Dougal has promised I can spar in the tournament after the bairn is born. And we’d be honored if you would attend.”

Adam knew that was Feiyan’s way of inviting him to meet his new niece or nephew. He wouldn’t miss that for the world. But he couldn’t resist teasing her.

He arched a brow. “You think you’re going to be fit to compete?”

She scowled, then arched a brow back at him. “You’ll have to return and find out.”

“I’ll try to make it.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

He winked and nodded as he left the solar. “Good night.”

Her announcement made this business between the king and Fergus even more pressing. A summer tournament meant the whole Rivenloch clan would be coming to Darragh. If war began at Galloway, they would be the nearest warriors at hand, the first to engage in the fighting.

He had intended to stay longer at Darragh, but with this greater urgency, haste was imperative.

If Fergus had installed spies among the king’s men, it was necessary for Adam to be the eyes and ears of the king in Fergus’s army.

To infiltrate Fergus’s ranks, Adam needed to appear nondescript, ordinary, a simple man-at-arms. He knew a fine warhorse would make him too noticeable.

The Fergus holding of Kenmure was two or three days away on foot.

So as much as he’d disappoint his sister, he’d have to bid her farewell on the morrow.

Adam couldn’t afford to risk having anyone in the Fergus clan recognize him.

So from the Darragh armory, he chose discarded armor—battle-scarred plate, mail that was missing a few rivets, a dented helm, a splintery spear, and a sword that had seen better days.

Things no self-respecting Rivenloch knight would own.

Feiyan naturally thought her brother was a clodbrain for taking such inferior gear.

He also needed a disguise that would be easy to maintain, yet make him difficult to identify.

Normally he didn’t like to make long-lasting changes to his appearance. It made him less flexible in a crisis. But this was a serious mission with a serious purpose. He might need to inhabit this character for a month or more.

So as soon as he left Darragh, he used his dagger to cut his long hair short.

Over several weeks, the thick stubble of his jaw would grow into a proper beard.

Once he drew near to Fergus’s holdings in Galloway, he took his time, loitering at inns and alehouses along the way, picking up bits of conversation and casually inquiring about work.

He wasn’t disappointed. It seemed Fergus had been sending raiders out to trouble the neighboring clans. The activity had escalated in the last several weeks. Most of the clans were recruiting men to guard their towns and herds against attack.

But they weren’t the only ones.

When Adam crossed into Galloway and arrived at the keep at Kenmure, it was clear Fergus was building his clan forces as well.