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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T he fever broke with the dawn.

Golden light spilled through the windows, casting a warm glow on the bed where Torrin stirred, his body finally cool.

He looked around only to find that he was back in his chambers, even though the last thing he remembered was being on the horse, trying to make it back to the castle.

As he looked around, he saw Arrow lifting his head from beside the hearth, giving a soft bark.

The next thing he saw was Valora. She was asleep in the chair beside his bed, curled into herself, one arm resting on the edge of the mattress.

Her head lolled slightly to one side, a lock of auburn hair falling over her cheek.

Under the light of the morning sun, she resembled a painting—like someone had tried to capture the likeness of an angel.

Torrin exhaled—quietly, reverently. He reached for her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles, but she didn’t wake. Carefully, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth.

Still, she didn’t stir. He thought she must have been exhausted, considering everything that she had had to endure, and he doubted she had gotten much sleep the previous night.

He decided it was best to let her rest, even in that awkward position on the chair.

Slowly, he rose, trying to be as quiet as possible as he moved around the room, cleaning up as best he could before getting dressed.

It was far from an easy task, though. His injury had taken a lot out of him, and he had lost a lot of blood.

His body was stiff, sluggish, and he was naturally in pain.

Though his mind raced, he was still dizzy, and every few steps, he had to stop and steady himself, making sure he wouldn’t topple right over.

Naethin’ a hearty breakfast an’ some ale cannae fix.

If this was little more than a lie he told himself then no one had to know.

Torrin left her sleeping as he exited the chambers, knowing there was much work to do.

He couldn’t afford to rest any longer. He had to meet with the council.

The wound on his side hurt, but not like before. His body was stiff, but he could still walk on his own. He moved slowly, making his way to his study with determination, eager to discuss his plans with the council.

Laird Keith would not stop attacking, Torrin knew, and he didn’t want to give the man another chance to do so. They were already at war—they had to do something, and they had to do it fast, before Clan Keith attacked again.

And then there was the matter of the marriage.

Time was running out for Valora to make her choice.

Time was running out for Torrin, too, to reach the alliance he needed to defeat Laird Keith, but that was less of a concern for him than Valora’s desire to marry him in the first place.

They could win the war; he knew it in his heart that they could, as long as Laird Keith didn’t get his hands on Valora and force her into a marriage and her father into an alliance.

What he didn’t know was whether she wanted him to be her husband at all—if she would have him, if she would choose him over freedom.

Three days left.

Three days until Valora would have to make her choice.

Unless I’ve been out of it fer days.

After seeing her curled up on that chair by his side, knowing she had stayed up all night to tend to him, Torrin now knew his own.

Making his way to the study, Torrin was not surprised to see everyone already gathered there—Noah and the council, all of them waiting for him to make an appearance.

They were all in deep conversation, already discussing tactics, but silence fell among them when he walked into the room and to his chair, which had been left vacant.

The fire burned low in the hearth, an indication that they had all been there all night, discussing their options.

The air was thick with tension, the room utterly silent.

In one corner of it, Jamison paced, arms crossed behind his back. Ness sat near the corner, silent but alert. Noah stood before the hearth, one hand resting on the mantel.

When he sat in his chair, Noah immediately turned to him, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Ye should be resting," he said.

"I’ve rested enough."

Noah gave him a look of disbelief, but they knew each other well enough for him to know that no matter what he said, it wouldn’t make a difference; Torrin simply wouldn’t listen to him, and would instead stay precisely where he was, attending all the meetings.

With a sigh, Noah turned to the council and said, "The Keiths didnae just attack. They kent where tae strike. The path they took, the timin’… it wasnae random."

"Valora was the target," Jamison said bluntly. "This wasnae an attack at all. It was simply a distraction so they could get tae her."

"It is true," said Noah. "An’ because o’ it, we lost many good men, but if we dinnae dae somethin’ now, the Keiths will attack again."

"An’ next time?" Jamison asked. "What if she’s taken again?"

Torrin’s jaw clenched. It was a fair question, but one which had a clear answer, as far as he was concerned. "Then we’ll bring her back again."

Jamison slammed his palm on the table. "Ye cannae keep tempting fate! Ye’ve given her time, but time is a luxury we nay longer have."

The chamber fell still and silent, the tension growing. Torrin looked among the council members, looking for any signs that one of them, at least, would support him, but no one dared meet his gaze—not even Noah.

"The council agrees," Jamison continued. "She must be wed tae ye as soon as possible. Today even. It’s the only way tae make her untouchable in the eyes o’ the clans."

"She’s nae a weapon tae be wielded," Torrin said through gritted teeth. He had given her a choice and a timeline. He wanted to honor both. Even if the situation was dire, even if it seemed like the only option, he wanted to give her the time she needed. Besides, it was only three days.

"She’s a shield now, whether she wants tae be or nae," Ness pointed out.

Noah didn’t speak for a moment, even as Torrin turned to him for assistance. In the end, he said, "I think they’re right."

Torrin stood abruptly, the chair scraping back against stone. "She isnae ready. I gave her until the end o’ the week."

"We may nae have until the end o’ the week," Jamison snapped. "Every day is another opportunity fer Keith tae strike."

Torrin didn’t answer. The words caught in his throat, too sharp to swallow. He had some choice words to say to everyone in his council, but he doubted they would be of any help. If anything, they would only make things worse. Instead, he turned and left the room.

He needed some fresh air. He also needed some answers.