Page 36

“But of course.” Mirrie helped her out of it and passed her a clean one from the trunk. “A tale for us to discuss in full another morn; one that is not so fraught.”

Frida nodded as she pulled the cotton shift over her head. “I will tell you all that has passed.” She paused to grip Mirrie’s hands. “’Twill be a relief to confide in someone.” But as she spoke, tears pricked at the corner of her eyes and she had to turn away.

“I have brought a basin of warmed water, so you can wash.” Ever practical, Mirrie gave her a moment of peace, bending to gather up all of Frida’s discarded clothing. “I will put these with mine, to go to the laundry. I’ll return to dress your hair.”

Frida sniffed her thanks and splashed water on her face until all traces of her tears had gone.

She stepped into the plain grey gown of stiffened wool that Mirrie had picked out for her.

It would be warm, at least, on a day that promised little comfort or cheer.

She glanced towards the shutters, wanting to look out and scan the horizon for any remaining sign of Callum, but there was no time.

A faint knock at the door heralded Mirrie’s return. She sat Frida on the bed and tugged at her tousled hair with a comb, apologising breathlessly when Frida failed to hide her winces.

“Tristan cannot see you so dishevelled.”

White-lipped, Frida nodded her agreement. She was relieved when Mirrie declared herself done. Her hair was plaited neatly. Her dress was presentable. This was all that mattered.

“Where is Tristan now?” she asked, rising up from the mattress.

“I last saw him pacing the length of the great hall.” Mirrie paused. “There is still no sign of Jonah. Methinks he has gone into hiding into all of this is over.”

Frida grimaced. “Jonah had better stay in hiding. All of this is his doing.” At Mirrie’s look of confusion, she added, “Jonah caused all of this upset by writing to Tristan in the first place.”

“Ah.” Understanding dawned upon Mirrie’s brow. “Remember, Frida. They are both your brothers and they love you.”

Frida shook her head fiercely. “I do not know the man Tristan has become. The brother I knew would not order a castle razed to the ground, nor the slaughter of innocent women and children.”

Mirrie held up her hand. “Bide on that, Frida, prithee. Ask Tristan yourself about the siege of Kielder Castle.”

“Aye,” she grunted, smoothing down her skirts as she prepared to leave her chamber. “Believe me, I shall.”

Tristan had dark circles around his eyes and his thick hair had been tamed by neither comb nor water. Frida thought that she had never seen her handsome brother so dishevelled.

He paced up and down the great hall like a man possessed; his progress monitored carefully by the hounds stretched out by the fire.

Frida had thought she might aim for nonchalance, but as soon as Tristan saw her, he strode across the room and grasped her by the shoulders.

His forceful gaze could have pierced a path through stone.

“Did you set him free?” he demanded.

Shocked, Frida could only summon her resolve and meet his glare with one equally passionate. “What if I did?”

The sound coming out of Tristan’s mouth could only be described as a growl. “Then you are a traitor to your family.”

“Nay.” She wrestled herself away from his hold. “I am not the one who should wrestle with my conscience.”

The two siblings stood feet apart, both pairs of blue eyes blazing. Tristan’s hands clenched into fists, but Frida was certain he would not raise them against her.

“I have no time for riddles, sister. I ask you again. Did you set him free?”

Frida reminded herself that the important thing was to buy Callum enough time to run far from Ember Hall. She made a show of skirting around Tristan and lowering herself gracefully into a chair by the fire. “Why would I do that?”

Tristan sighed, looking momentarily defeated.

It was not a look Frida had ever seen on her brother before. Nor, despite everything, was it one she enjoyed.

“Because when the three of us were in here last…” He paused, indicating the stretch of floor where Callum had lain. “Your sympathies were not with me.”

Frida felt her throat constrict. “That is not entirely true,” she whispered.

Tristan turned anguished eyes towards her. “Always it has been you and me against the world, Frida. You have always stood in my corner, always backed me. And I have always tried to do the same for you.”

She nodded slowly, unable to deny it. Tristan’s unwavering support had gone a long way towards convincing their parents that she and Mirrie should be allowed to set up home in Ember Hall.

“Until now,” he added. “You look at me and you think of the Scot. Can you deny it?”

Indignation rose within her. “Nay, I cannot deny it. And nor should I have to.”

“You were the one to set him free.” His voice rose, but whether in triumph or disbelief, Frida could not say.

She jumped up from the chair and regretted it as her ankle threatened to give way beneath her. “I was. I freely admit it.” She clung onto the back of the chair for support. “I would set him free a hundred times over so he might escape death by your sword.”

“And so you spared him—the man who came here with orders to kill me?” Tristan folded his arms, a pulse flickering at his jaw.

Frida didn’t allow herself to feel so much as a pang of guilt. “The man whose home you destroyed, whose people you slaughtered for no higher purpose than your own bloodlust.”

Tristan reeled backwards as if she had struck him. “You speak of the siege of Kielder Castle? This is what Mirrie was asking of me yesterday.” He spun around as if looking for their friend, but Mirrie was wisely keeping out of sight.

Frida nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Tristan dragged a hand through his hair. “I played no part in the siege of Kielder Castle.” His voice was quiet.

A beat passed while Frida tried to make sense of this. “But you said…” She waved her hands towards the fire, recalling the scene with Callum. “You said that you gave the order.”

Tristan shook his head, his lips pressed together into a thin line. “I did not.”

Adrenaline drained away and left her weak. “I was here. I heard you say it.”

“Then you remember incorrectly.” Tristan sighed deeply. “What I said was, I don’t deny it .”

Frida felt suddenly as if they were back in the school room, squabbling over the fairest allocation of honey cakes. “That is the same thing.”

“God’s bones, Frida, it is not,” he exploded.

“I didn’t bring Callum here to talk of Kielder Castle.

I wanted to find out what he was doing here, at Ember Hall, with you .

” He put his hands to his knees as if the outburst had exhausted him.

“My real business north of the border was strictly confidential, not to be shared with anyone—least of all a Scot.”

Looking at him stirred sisterly concern within her in spite of everything. Frida found herself wondering when he had last slept. But she chased the thought away. She could hardly process what he was telling her. “You were not involved in the siege?”

“Not in any way—not in its planning or its execution. I assure you, no siege under my command would involve such senseless slaughter. Difficult decisions must oft times be made in battle, but there is no justification for the killing of the unarmed and innocent.” Tristan raised his hands, his face an unhealthy pale colour.

“Sister, do not tell me that you set Callum free on the strength of that suspicion?”

She must sit back down before she fell on the floor. Frida tried to speak but no sound came out.

My brother is innocent. He was still the hero she had always believed him to be.

But Callum, the man she loved, would never know that.

“He said he would kill you,” she whispered.

“Aye. And likely he will, now that he has his freedom.”

She shook her head. “We will hold his men hostage.”

Callum gave a mirthless bark of laughter. “And you think that will stop a man like Callum Baine? Nay,” he answered his own question. “Our only recourse is to find him now and bring him back.”

Leaving Frida slumped on the chair, Tristan strode outside to put his plans into action.

*

When Callum next opened his eyes, the rosy rays of dawn had transformed the horizon into a vivid blaze of pink.

The darkness had been banished, along with the icy grip of snow, for the rising sun was causing a thaw all around him.

Snow dripped from the tops of the standing stones and birds sang from the trees.

He had woken to a different world. One filled with light and colour… and hope.

Callum’s whole body protested as he tried to stand.

He rested his weight upon the wet stone until he found his balance.

Hunger clawed at him, but more pressing was his thirst. He scooped up a handful of melting snow and sucked it from his fingers.

Glancing back towards Ember Hall, he saw smoke rising from the chimneys.

The household would be up; his escape might already be known.

And yet the terrors of the night had receded. Already, the thaw had made the outline of his footprints more difficult to discern in the snow. Within another hour, he fancied they would be gone.

Perchance his luck was changing.

Callum fixed his gaze on the distant hills and started walking.