Melody stared at the knife until the words blurred. She turned slowly, almost hesitantly, to face him, and waited. When he did not speak, she spoke for herself.
“I had no idea that you had a brother. Nobody mentioned it.”
“Nobody in the keep will. Oh, there’s always gossip, always talk. Ye could have found out if ye tried hard enough. But ye are right. Nobody speaks of me wife, or me son, and certainly nae of me brother.”
He turned at last, somewhat shakily, and Melody had to turn away from the naked grief and misery carved onto his face.
“Ye ken already that I chose to wed the daughter of one of me councilors,” he said, his voice flat and monotonous. “Elsie. We were friends, never in love, but happy enough. We had a son together. His name was Alexander.”
His voice cracked on the name. Melody briefly closed her eyes.
“You… you don’t have to tell me this. I can see how it hurts you, and I don’t wish you to be hurt.”
“It’s time ye kent, lass. I’ve hidden enough from ye. Just hear me out with nay interruptions, aye? This is nae an easy story to tell. I think ye deserve to hear the truth, before…” he trailed off, and Melody looked away.
“Before what?”
He shook his head. “Let me begin.”
“Very well. I’ll listen, and I won’t interrupt.”
She didn’t look for a seat, but stayed standing. It didn’t seem to be the sort of story one sat down for.
“Me brother and I were always very close,” Callum continued, in a halting, determined sort of rush. “We were twins, ye ken.A bare half hour between us. He used to joke that perhaps we’d been switched at birth, and that perhapshewas Laird MacDean and I was in his place as a spare son, the second son, the unnecessary one. But nobody could have thought he was the eldest. He was smaller than me, thinner, and weaker. He was a sickly child, and as a babe, they were sure that he’d die.”
Callum paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “He didnae die. He was determined and hung onto life. We were close, as I said. Nobody mattered more to me than him. There was a deep bond between Fletcher and me. We made those knives for each other. I had his, and he had mine. But after me son was born, things… things changed.”
Melody had intended to keep her word and avoid interruptions, but when the silence dragged on for one minute, then two, then three, she felt obliged to do something.
“How did things change?” she prompted, twisting her pencil between her fingers. The wood was warm, as if somebody had been touching it before she came into the room.
“Hechanged,” Callum spat. “I had nay idea how he’d coveted the lairdship. I always assumed that he saw it the same way I did—as a burden, a trial, nae something to be hungered after. Thomas told me that Fletcher had been tryin’ to rally support for himself after I married. He’d gone behind me back, pickin’ holes in me choices, complainin’ about how I did things. I was hurt, mortally so, but I could nae imagine it goin’ further than discontent. I imagined that I could do somethin’ for my brother. I was afraid that I’d neglected him, so perhaps a gift of land, or some money,or the prospect of a fine wife of his own would smooth things out between us.”
He paused again, shaking his head.
“Then Alexander was born. Even I started to notice Fletcher’s fury then. Once I had an heir, he must have guessed that there’d be nay tragedy or accident which would put him in my place. An heir is what every laird desires, because it solidifieshisplace. Nay coup or usurper can unseat a man with good, strong heirs set up behind him, because people crave stability. I was nae uncertain of me place, and I was nae afraid of me brother. Then me baby boy was found drowned in a tub.”
Melody gave a strangled cry, pressing her hands over her mouth.
“Oh, oh no, Callum! Not the baby!”
Callum had gone as white as a sheet. He stood hunched over in front of the fire, the flickering flames throwing strange, twisted shadows in front of him.
“Aye, that’s true. Me son was drowned. Dead. Ye can imagine how we felt, how I reacted. Although…” he paused, considering. “Perhaps ye cannae imagine it. In fact, I hope ye cannae. Much of that time was a blur for me. I put me entire self into investigatin’ the crime and discoverin’ who had done it.”
Melody closed her eyes.
I know how this story ends.
“Fletcher,” she whispered.
Callum did not seem angry at the interruption. On the contrary, he seemed relieved that he did not have to say it himself.
“Jealousy and madness,” he breathed. “I daenae pretend to ken what went through me brother’s head. As soon as he was discovered, he fled. Or tried to flee, really. I pursued him, caught him, and killed him on the road. Nothin’ fancy, nay trial, nay hangin’ from the keep walls. I killed him with the knife he’d gifted me all those years ago. It was poorly made, by the way. It snapped, the blade lodging between his ribs. I took his knife, I could nae tell ye why.”
He sank slowly to his knees before the fire, as if the energy had simply drained out of him. Melody inched toward him, longing to lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She could not quite dare, however, and had to be content with simply standing close by.
“I prayed for death often in the months of mournin’ which followed,” he continued at last. “Elsie took it one step further. I kent she was grievin’, of course, but I had nay idea how deeply melancholy had rooted in her heart. I’d imagined that we would have another child one day, and while that would never make up for the loss of Alexander, it would certainly soothe us. Then the next thing I kent, she was dead, and it was over. Everythin’ was over,” he shrugged limply. “Do ye ken the worst of it all? I have nay idea when me brother’s love for me turned to hatred. I’vethought and thought andthought, and I just cannae pinpoint a moment. Nae a single moment. I ken how he hated me in the end, but I daenae ken when it began. I wish I did.”
