"I've nae intention of dyin'," Maeve replied, laughing, though there was an undercurrent of seriousness to her words too. "But I want tae make sure that the life I'm livin' means somethin'."
"Cannae mean anythin' if ye're a crumpled heap on the ground," Patty replied. She put her hand on Maeve's shoulder and added, "Do ye want me tae tell Cailean that ye need a wee break? He willnae mind if?—"
"No!" Maeve insisted, more loudly than she'd intended. Patty raised an eyebrow, and Maeve lowered her voice before continuing. "No, no. I'm fine. I just need tae keep goin'."
"Aye, but?—"
"Look, I promise I'll nae go too far," Maeve interrupted. She secretly knew that this wasn't possible, because she would not allow herself to show so much weakness as to give up in front of the other warriors.
Patty snorted. "Ye'll go too far," she said. "But dinnae worry. I'll be here tae patch ye up. That's what we do for each other here."
Maeve smiled, partly out of thanks but mostly because she was still marveling over the fact that she believed it. This was a family, and they looked out for each other, even if, she remembered with a twinge of guilt, it was a family she'd have to lie to for as long as she was a member of it.
"Ye comin', Mary?" someone called. Maeve looked up to see Dirk, the young Bruce cousin, calling to her from nearby. He'd been exceptionally kind to her since that first day, looking up to her almost as if she were an older sister. Maeve wasn't sure if it was simply out of embarrassment for his words when she was introduced or if he genuinely had grown to like her, but she thought it was sweet anyway.
She got to her feet, bid her goodbyes to Patty, and hurried over to follow Dirk to the training ground. Her muscles ached with every step, but there was a feeling of excitement within her as well. Maybe today, at last, would be the day that she would finally be able to keep up with Cailean's training regimen. Maybe today, at last, she wouldn't embarrass herself.
"Dinnae overdo it!" Patty called after her.
"Nae promises," Maeve muttered under her breath.
* * *
Despite her hopefulness, Maeve quickly found herself falling behind as the morning session began. Her hands were so stiff that she could barely hold her training sword, and she kept dropping it so much that she was sure the others must be laughing at her, even though nobody did any such thing. Everyone else was moving faster than she was, everyone else was stronger, and no matter how much she tried to use her wits to stay ahead in the sparring, her frustration was beginning to make her make stupid mistakes.
Worst of all, she felt Cailean's eyes upon her as she stumbled and fell over for the third time in a row. Darren, who was serving as her training partner, put out a hand to help her up.
"Are ye all right? I didnae mean tae shove ye so hard," Darren said, kindness in his eyes and voice.
Maeve accepted the offered hand, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. "Ye barely touched me. I'm just off me game today."
Darren pulled her up and nodded toward Cailean. "Dinnae be so embarrassed. He isnae judgin' ye as much as ye think he is, ye ken. We've all struggled at times; it's just a matter of kennin' how tae get better."
Maeve knew that Darren was trying to make her feel better, but the fact that he knew that she was preoccupied with how Cailean was viewing her just made her feel more embarrassed. Did everyone notice the way that her eyes strayed to him all the time? Did everyone see the way that she was failing over and over again?
Her spiraling thoughts were interrupted as Cailean's voice rang out over the training field. "All right! Everybody stop!"
There was a general clatter as everyone halted what they were doing and swords were dropped or held at their masters' sides. All eyes, including Maeve's, turned to Cailean with unabashed curiosity. Though Cailean usually gave directions regularly through the morning and afternoon sessions, it was very rare that he interrupted them mid-spar for any reason other than some immediate danger. Maeve had not experienced that yet, and nervousness filled her heart at the thought. Was there a chance that the English were coming? Or worse, couldtheyhave found her?
But Cailean's face, when she looked at him, did not seem worried. His gray eyes simply seemed intrigued and curious, and his handsome face seemed focused.
"Darren," Cailean called, "Get up here a minute, aye?"
Darren gave Maeve a fancy, playful little bow and jogged over to Cailean's side. "Aye, sir," he said in his usual lighthearted tone. "What can I do for ye?"
"Ye can help me demonstrate somethin'," Cailean said. "Draw yer sword. We're gonnae spar."
Grinning, Darren said, "As yer friend or as yer subordinate?" he asked. "Because me response depends on how ye answer."
"None of ye are me subordinates," Cailean reminded him, and even from a distance, Maeve could see him rolling his eyes with a tiny smile on his face. "Just draw yer sword."
Darren did so with a flourish. "I'm surprised ye want me tae embarrass ye in front of the others," he teased.
They both got into position, then Cailean signaled for the bout to begin. Maeve, along with the others, watched with fascination.
The two men clashed with surprising speed and strength, their swords clanging together without hesitation. They moved almost as though they were performing a choreographed dance, dodging and weaving and striking in the light of the sun. A few people were muttering and gasping behind Maeve, and a few others were placing bets on who would win, but it was all she could do to watch with a slightly open mouth at the remarkable scene in front of her.
Then, all of a sudden, Darren let out a cry, and with a deft move, Cailean sent him tumbling to the ground. In a flash, Cailean stood over Darren, his sword pointed at his friend's throat.
