When she glanced upwards, Noah was watching her, his eyes still heavy with sleep. He had an arm wrapped around her shoulders to keep her from falling off the narrow bed, and his fingertips danced through her hair.
“Morning, lass,” he murmured, voice heavy. “I was just thinking that we might be able to look forward to many more mornings like this. What do ye think?”
“I think that sounds wonderful,” Senga whispered, leaning up to kiss him. “I still find it odd to sleep until I’m ready to wake. At the convent, there was a bell to tell us all to get up, to say nothing of the bells for prayers.”
He winced. “I don’t think I’d fancy getting up all through the night to pray. Surely ye and the lasses weren’t expected to join in?”
“Oh, no, of course not. We’d join in for feast days, saints’ days, and so on, but mostly we only joined if we felt like it. I remember once?—”
Senga’s anecdote was lost forever because at that moment there was a sharp knock on the door. She flinched, sitting upright and clutching the blanket around her. Noah sat up beside her, his large hands warm on her bare shoulders.
“The door’s locked, don’t fret,” he murmured, then more loudly, “Who is it?”
“Laird Grahame has sent for ye, Captain,” came a muffled response. “There’s been a reply from Struan Dickson. It’s urgent.”
“I’ll be there in a moment.”
Whoever it was began to walk away, then the shuffling footsteps returned.
“Lady Senga was sent for, too,” the messenger said, choosing his words carefully. “We cannot find her, though.”
Senga smothered a smile in the bedclothes. Noah cleared his throat.
“Aye, well, I’ll find her myself and bring her along.”
“That would be a good idea, I think,” the messenger answered primly and shuffled away again.
“Struan is veryclear in this letter,” Brendan said grimly, slapping down the letter in question. “His father would never allow such important information to slip. If he truly did plan an attack on Keep Kenneth, he would keep it secret until the last possible moment. Even his own allies wouldn’t know until it was close to the time.”
Senga let out a ragged breath, raking her hands through her hair. She hadn’t had time to wind it back in a braid, so it hung loose and long around her shoulders. She was wearingyesterday’s dress, too, which had thankfully dried off in front of the fire while she and Noah were… otherwise occupied.
Freya’s eyes lingered on her, narrowing. Senga was pretty sure that her friend would want to know what had gone on soon enough.
Later, though. For now, they had serious business to consider.
“So, ye believe that he lied to my father?” Senga asked.
“Possibly,” Brendan admitted. “But I think it’s more likely that Laird Murray deliberately fed ye false information. It was cleverly done, making it seem like he blurted it out in the heat of the moment, but Struan insists that if an attack was planned on Keep Kenneth, Laird Murray would be the last to know.”
Noah bit his lip, leaning forward. A ragged old map was spread out on the council table, weighed down in the corners by books and one rusted iron doorknob.
For once, the council room was quiet. Only the four of them were in there. Freya had not said much, preferring instead to pace up and down, arms tightly folded. Noah and Brendan mirrored each other’s posture, each leaning over the map, scowling at it as though the inked hills of the Highlands might provide the answer.
“Tell them the rest,” Freya prompted, after a moment.
Brendan sighed. “Struan, Thomas, and Una have kept an eye on the land around the convent. Struan reports that he’s seen more Dickson men in the hills and forests, generally trying to avoid being seen. He has no real proof, but he feels in his gut that Laird Dickson plans to attack the convent next.”
“Again?” Noah asked, frowning. “Did he not learn from last time? Why the convent?”
“Because,” Freya answered, stepping forward, “the convent is less strongly defended than our Keeps. It’s not a fortress, after all. His son is there, and Struan’s betrayal cut LairdDickson deep. What is more, he sees the convent as the heart of the rebellion. I came from there, and so did Una, Kyla, and Astrid. He blames each of us for the way his empire has begun to crumble. We are a threat to him, and the convent of St. Deborah’s is a thread that connects us all.”
Freya went on, “In his mind, destroying the convent cuts off the snake’s head. He wants to send a message. Besides, since his last attack failed, we would naturally assume he wouldn’t try again. The false information would have us gathering our troops at Keep Kenneth, far away from the convent. We may not make it in time. All of this is a distraction from his main goal.”
There was a heavy silence after this.
“Well,” Noah said at last. “I feel as though we should rally the troops.”
Brendan nodded grimly. “We’ll go to the convent, and this place can prepare as if for a siege. Whatever happens, we’ll be ready.”
