"These are my people too," I remind him. "If they're in danger?—"
"Organize space in the great hall for villagers who come seeking shelter," he says after a moment, his expression unreadable. "Work with the steward to ensure there's food and water available."
It's a meaningful task, not a token assignment to placate me. The acknowledgment of my role, my usefulness, sends an unexpected warmth through me.
For the next several hours, I throw myself into the preparations, temporarily free from Lachlan's immediate supervision as he coordinates the castle's defenses. The work keeps me too busy to dwell on my conflicted feelings, on the growing confusion in my heart.
By evening, nearly a hundred villagers have crowded into the great hall, mostly women, children, and the elderly. I move among them, offering reassurance, making sure blankets are distributed, ensuring that no one is overlooked in the chaos.
"You're good at this."
I turn to find Lachlan watching me, his tall frame silhouetted against the torchlight. He looks tired, lines of tension around his eyes that weren't there this morning.
"I was raised to care for my people," I say, more defensively than I intended.
"I know." He steps closer, lowering his voice. "The riders have been identified. Mercenaries, likely hired by Lord Aiden from the southern province. Testing our defenses, seeing how unified we are."
"Are we in danger?"
"Not immediately. They're not enough to breach our walls." He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of weariness I've never seen from him before. "But it means Aiden is movingagainst us sooner than I expected. I'll need to deal with him before he gathers more support."
The "us" in his statement catches me off guard. As if we're truly a united front, not conqueror and conquered.
"You look exhausted," I observe, surprising myself with the concern in my voice.
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Worried about me, Princess?"
"Merely observing," I counter, though the lie feels hollow even to my own ears.
His hand rises to touch my face, a brief caress that's gone before I can react. "Get some rest. I'll join you later."
After he leaves, I continue my duties among the villagers, but my mind keeps returning to that fleeting touch, to the weariness in his eyes. This is my opportunity—the first time in days he's left me unwatched, distracted by the potential threat. I could slip away now, use the confusion of the villagers' presence to mask my escape.
The thought lodges in my mind, impossible to dislodge. Freedom, just a few calculated moves away.
I finish distributing the last of the blankets, then casually make my way toward the servants' entrance at the back of the hall. No one stops me, no one questions my purpose. I slip through the door into the darkened corridor beyond, heart pounding in my chest.
Freedom. I can almost taste it.
But as I hurry through the shadowy passageways toward the kitchen yard, where I might be able to slip out through the delivery entrance, another thought plagues me. What happens to these villagers if I leave? What happens to my father? To the tentative peace Lachlan has established?
I push the doubts aside. One careful step at a time, I make my way through the deserted kitchen, out into the yard beyond. Thedelivery gate is guarded, but only by a single man who appears half-asleep at his post.
I've almost reached the shadow of the wall when a hand clamps over my mouth from behind, an arm like iron banding around my waist. I'm pulled back against a hard chest, the familiar scent of leather and man enveloping me.
"Did you really think I'd let you out of my sight tonight of all nights?" Lachlan's voice is dangerously soft in my ear. "When we have enemies at our doorstep?"
He releases my mouth, but keeps his arm around my waist, holding me firmly against him.
"Let me go," I demand, though the words lack conviction even to my own ears.
"Never." He turns me to face him, his expression harsh in the moonlight. "When will you accept that there is no escape from me? That you are mine, now and always?"
"I'll never accept captivity," I tell him, though my body betrays me, leaning into his warmth despite my mind's protests.
"Captivity?" He laughs without humor. "Is that what you call being a queen? Having power, security, a husband who worships your body every night?"
"A husband who took everything from me by force!"
