“What will ye do with the prisoner?” she asked, turning to him.
“I daenae ken yet,” he replied flatly. “But I am nae losing sleep over how many years he should spend in the dungeons.”
Davina studied him for a long moment. “So ye care to keep people safe,” she said slowly. “Safe from monsters. That is good, Neil.”
He nodded. “Of course I care.”
She tipped her chin toward the empty road. “So why did ye let her go?”
His jaw tightened. “Because I cannae give her what she wants.”
“And what is that?” Davina pressed. “Kindness? Safety? A family she can trust?” Her gaze held his. “Ye already do half of that without trying.”
“She wants more.” The words tore from the depths of his soul. “She wantslove. A husband who can be soft with her. I daenae ken how to do that without… losing meself.”
Davina’s eyes softened and sharpened all at once. “Then be better.”
He stared at her.
“Ye spent yer whole life trying nae to be yer faither,” she continued. “Which is good. But ye went so far that ye started living like a shadow. Ye may nae drink and shout like he did. Ye do the same harm, just in another way. Ye shut everyone out and call it protection.”
He glanced back at the gates. The stillness of the road beyond stung.
“Ye cannae change what Lachlan did,” Davina said. “Ye cannae change Alex, or yer faither. But ye can decide what to do with the woman who still wants ye despite what happened.”
Her voice thinned. She swallowed and steadied it.
“Daenae waste what I’ve just lost.”
The words sank into him like stones in deep water. He had no shield against them. No plan. No rule to drop between his heart and the truth.
Davina wiped her eyes once more, before turning around and walking away, her skirts a dark sweep against the flagstones.
The corridor settled around him. Wind moved the last scraps of ribbon from the cèilidh across the courtyard. Somewhere in the keep, a child cried and hiccuped.
Three words echoed in his mind over and over.
“Then be better.”
Neil stood at the edge of the training grounds the next morning, thinking over Davina’s words. The echo of her words sat in his chest like a blade.
“Then be better.”
The yard was awash in a thin grey that came before sunrise. He drew his sword in a weak effort to forget the ache in his heart, then started to train with his men.
For the first few minutes, he was able to control it. Then the fights grew more intense, and he grew more irritated with his men’s mistakes.
“Again,” he snapped, before the sun had cleared the hills.
The men were already sweating from the drills. He circled them as they traded blows. A young guard misread a feint and overreached. Neil stepped in, knocked the boy’s blade aside with a quick flick of his wrist, and sent him tumbling to the dirt.
“Good Lord. I thought ye would have all learned something by now. Ye are still the weak fighters I came home to, are ye nae?” he barked. “Is this how ye planned to protect the keep?”
The lad scrambled up, his cheeks burning. “Sorry, me Laird.”
“Apologies daenae stop steel,” Neil said. “Stand up. Try again.”
He gave them no space to breathe. He moved among them like a storm, catching wrists, turning shoulders, driving them back on their heels.
