Cailean's voice cut across the training field, interrupting the conversation with the natural ease of a leader. All chatter died down and the men and women of the warrior group turned to face him, each ready to obey.
"We're gonnae start with basic routines," Cailean announced. A few groans echoed out, and Cailean went on, "None of that. I ken some of ye would rather get more excited about what we're doin', but ye mustnae forget that without the basics we have naught. When it comes down tae it, kennin' a simple defense or a routine parry can be the difference between life and death."
"He's right," Darren announced from somewhere near the front of the crowd. "After all, look what Maeve managed tae do with a basic jab when our backs were all against the wall the day we took this castle back—the day that Darach fell."
Maeve gave Eoin a sidelong glance at that as the others cheered. Eoin wasn't cheering, but he didn't look upset either. He caught her staring and gave her a swift smile that she knew meant,I'm all right. I'm handlin' it.It was the best that she could expect from him.
They fell into place as the sparring began, Maeve bearing her whip-thin sword and Eoin holding a much burlier counterpart. Facing each other, they started moving in practiced circles, performing their routine with effortless ease.
"It's a bonny sword for sure," Eoin told her, moving to the side to avoid a jab. "Did the king really give it tae ye?"
"I wish ye'd stop callin' him that, true or nae," Maeve replied with a laugh. "Just Cailean. The two of ye are friends—or will be, once ye get tae ken each other better."
Eoin snorted. "Cailean, then. It was a gift?"
"Aye." Maeve ducked as Eoin swung his sword high. "And I've given her a name. She's called Tailfeather, after the bonny capercaillie who paid for her."
"Artistic," Eoin noted. He tapped the side of her arm with his sword. "Doesnae make ye faster, though."
Grinning despite her mild frustration at the loss of a point, Maeve took a step back to collect herself and redouble her efforts. "I'm plenty fast. I just felt sorry for ye," she teased. "Does Breana ken ye're such a braggart?"
"A braggart!" Eoin replied, laughing as he readied himself for their next bout. "Says the mighty queen-tae-be!"
They continued to exchange playful barbs, and Maeve was thrilled by every moment she got to spend with her friend. A long time ago, as a prisoner in this very castle, she'd dreamed of the day she would be able to befriend Eoin properly; she'd longed for the ability to just have someone with whom she could easily laugh. Eoin and Ann had been the closest things to friends she'd ever had before finding the rebels, but Ann was long since gone. She'd never expected that she'd be blessed enough to find Eoin again.
As the sparring paused, Maeve's gaze travelled to the side of the field, where many of the non-warrior rebels were watching. Some of the scouts joined in with the sparring, but many of the others stood on the sidelines along with healers, cooks, and others. Maeve saw her closest friend Ferda there, standing beside Patty and Breana. While Patty was animatedly chatting to Ferda, Breana was watching the fighting with a distantexpression on her face. She wore a small frown, and her eyes seemed distant and troubled.
"Has Bre said anythin' tae ye about feelin' discomfort?" Maeve asked Eoin.
Eoin frowned slightly. "We're nae that close—we're just becomin' friends, just as I'm becomin' friends with the others here. Is there somethin' the matter?"
Maeve wasn't sure she believed the words that Eoin said, but they didn't matter at the moment. After all, Eoin had been spending much more time with Breana these weeks since the party than with almost any of the others. It made sense that they would bond; both of them had been prisoners under Kyle Darach, both of them had been betrayed by their fathers. It was the same reason that Maeve and Eoin had bonded, but with Breana and Eoin, the energy seemed different. Less sisterly, and more…
There was no time for this now. Maeve saw the troubled look on her sister's face and knew that this had to come first. "I'll come back for the next round," she told Eoin. "I just need tae make sure she's all right."
Eoin nodded, and Maeve started across the field toward her sister. However, before she could get more than a few steps, one of the messengers ran panting into the field. "Cailean!" the young man called, panting with the effort of running. "It's…it's important!"
"Stop!" Cailean announced, and the sparring across the whole field cut short at once. All eyes went to the young messenger, who jogged the last few steps before he stood in front of Cailean. A dead silence fell as everyone strained to hear. "Tell us."
"It's…one of the chieftains, sir," the messenger told him, panting a little from the effort of running here. "Someone hasfinally responded tae one of our messages. They've sent a man with a letter; it's waitin' in the war room for ye now."
Even from across the field, Maeve saw the look of shock mingled with wild hope in Cailean's expression. Her own heart leaped in her chest, and murmuring broke out across the field. Could it really be at long last that someone was responding to their call? Could it be that they might at long last have an ally against the darkness that had been hanging over their heads all this time? She didn't dare hope, didn't dare breathe, and yet…
"If ye want tae continue trainin', do," Cailean announced. "I must make me way tae the war room. Maeve, Darren."
Maeve gave Eoin a look, and he nodded at her, encouraging.
"Go," he said. "I'll be here."
"Check on Breana for me, will ye?" she asked. He nodded, and she leaned over and briefly kissed his cheek before hurrying off to catch up with Cailean.
The war room was filled with people. The four elder councilmen—Kier, Senan, Ewan, and Hamish—were all there, each staring a hole through a seemingly inconsequential letter that rested on top of the large wooden table in the center. Several of the scouts were there, including Ferda, and Cailean, Darren, and Maeve joined them shortly afterward. In addition, there was a messenger who Maeve did not recognize—the messenger, Maeve presumed, who had brought the news that had the whole camp holding their breath right now.
"Ah, Cailean," Senan greeted, relief in his voice. "We waited for ye. Come, son, let's see what the news is."
Maeve smiled slightly at the casual use of the wordson.Cailean's blood family may have been gone, but this group ofrebels truly were his family, and these four elders had all become his fathers over the years.
Kier turned to the unknown messenger and to one of their scouts. "Andrew," he said in that gruff voice of his, "Could ye take this young visitor and get him some refreshments? He must be starved."
