Sebastian leaned forward slightly, as though confiding a secret. “That bairn cannae be allowed to draw breath because the moment it does, everythin’ I have worked for becomes… complicated.”
He straightened, smoothing his cloak. Next to him, the soldier stiffened, straightening up as well as if he awaited orders.
“Kieran will come for me,” Sebastian continued. “Of course, he will. He’ll bring Laird McMurphy with him. Let them. I’ll keep them chasin’ smoke and rumor until they’re exhausted.”
His gaze locked onto the castle once more, unwavering.
“Nay storm, nay laird, nay wall of stone will stop me,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “Nae this time.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The calm broke quietly. It began with hurried footsteps on stone and a messenger’s low, urgent voice. Iris stiffened beside Lydia, her attention snapping away from the walls and toward the inner yard.
“Me Lady,” said the guard, red-cheeked and heaving, “yer presence is requested. The council is askin’ fer ye to handle the supplies and safe rooms.”
Iris nodded. “Tell them I will. Be there shortly.”
Her sister was the kind of solid, dependable presence that a clan needed during times of need. Now, when they didn’t know whether or not an attack was imminent, Iris stepped into her role immediately, her face hardening into something older, something more resolute. She was no longer Lydias sister but rather the Lady of Clan McMurphy—the change subtle but undeniable, the result of years of training.
She turned to Lydia, her expression grim. “I must go. Elijah wants contingencies in place if—” She stopped herself then forced a steadier breath. “If anythin’ happens.”
Lydia’s fingers tightened around her sister’s sleeve. “Do ye think it will?”
Iris hesitated, just long enough for Lydia to notice. Then she smiled, small but sincere. “I think we’re bein’ cautious. That’s all.”
She cupped Lydia’s cheek briefly, a gesture of open affection that she used often. “Ye stay in the keep. Daenae wander. Promise me.”
“I promise,” Lydia said at once. “I’ll be fine. Truly.”
Iris searched her face then nodded. “I willnae be far. If ye need anythin’, send a maid… or shout. Half the castle is on edge.”
As Iris hurried away, Lydia watched until her sister disappeared around a corner, her cloak vanishing like a shadow swallowed by stone.
The keep felt larger without her.
Lydia retreated inside as promised, settling into a small antechamber near the back stairs where a narrow window overlooked a quiet stretch of the inner grounds. The fire there had burned low, leaving only warmth and the faint smell of ash.
She tried to read, but the words swam uselessly on the page.
Her stomach rolled.
Lydia pressed a hand to her mouth, breathing carefully through her nose. “Nae now,” she whispered. “Please, nae now.”
The nausea came anyway, sudden and sharp, rising like a wave she couldn’t brace against. She lurched to her feet, her book forgotten, and hurried toward the nearest door.
Fresh air. She just needed fresh air.
The back door opened onto a small, sheltered yard rarely used except by servants. The stone was damp, the moss vivid green after the storm. The air was cool and clean, carrying the scent of rain and earth. Lydia stepped outside and leaned against the wall, eyes closed, breathing slowly.
“In and out,” she mumbled to herself. “Ye’re all right.”
For a moment, it helped. The fresh air, chilly and crisp, filled her lungs, settling her stomach a little. It was not the first time she had felt nauseous since finding out she was with child, but it was the first time it happened so violently, making her feel like there was no promise of relief, no matter what she tried.
I’ll have to ask the healer for somethin’. Surely, there must be somethin’ I can take for this.
It was more than a simple inconvenience. While she had been nauseous before, when sick, this was nothing compared to that passing feeling. Ever so slowly, Lydia peeled herself off the wall and wandered a little farther away, near the walls where a bench stood—old stone, carved by years of rain and wind but no less useful for it.
She didn’t stray any farther—she didn’t dare. It wasn’t only the promise she had given Iris that she wouldn’t leave the keep but also the fact that her own fear threatened to swallow her whole. Ever since that first attack on her life, she had spent her days frightened. Ever since it was proven Sebastian wouldn’t stop, she had spent her days in fear, looking over her shoulder.
