"Was she yer first love?"
The question hit harder than Boyd expected.He stopped walking, his hands clenching at his sides.When he spoke, his voice came out rough, almost broken."She was the love of my life."
Cormac seemed stunned at that admission.The silence stretched between them until Boyd cleared his throat and continued, "I was a poor nobody, a blacksmith's apprentice but I thought she loved me.Later I discovered she had passed me over for a wealthy man.In the process, I lost everything."
"How?"Cormac asked quietly.
"The old laird found out I had been secretly courting his precious daughter and he banished me.Threw me out of the clan with nothing but the clothes on my back."
They started walking again, their strides matching as they'd learned to do on long marches.
"Surely 'twas not her fault," Cormac replied.
"She knew!"Boyd's voice rose, then he forced it back down."She was part of the plan all along."
They paused near the entrance to the smithy, the familiar ring of hammer on anvil echoing from within.Cormac leaned against the wall, his expression troubled.
"What did ye do?"
"A neighboring clan, the MacKays, took me in because I had no living relations.I left to join the king's guard soon after, and never looked back."
"So what are ye planning to do?Marry her to show off how wealthy ye are now?"
"No."Boyd's smile was cold."I'm going to do the opposite."
"What do ye mean?"
"I'm going to make her live in squalor."
Cormac straightened, his eyes widening."Why would ye do that?"
Boyd shrugged, trying to appear indifferent."I want to show her that I can reduce her to nothing, like she did to me."
"Monk, do ye really think this a good thing to do to a woman ye barely ken now?"
"There's nothing good about me, Shadow."
His friend shook his head."What if she does not mind living in a hovel?"
"Oh, she will mind.I have no doubt a woman that wealthy and treacherous will not enjoy it."
Cormac was quiet for a long moment, and Boyd thought perhaps the conversation was over.But then his friend spoke."There's a saying where I'm from that goes like this: 'The man who seeks revenge should first dig two graves, for the poison he pours into his enemy's cup will find its way back to his own lips.'"
Boyd felt the words land like a blow to his chest.He stood frozen, staring at Cormac.
"I've seen what vengeance does to good men, Monk," Cormac continued quietly."It turns them into the very thing they hate."He pushed off from the wall, clapping a hand on Boyd's shoulder."Just think on it.That's all I ask."
Then he was gone, striding back across the courtyard, leaving Boyd standing alone outside the smithy with those words echoing in his mind.
The poison he pours into his enemy's cup will find its way back to his own lips.
Boyd tried to shake off the unease settling in his gut.This was justice, not revenge.Bella deserved to know what it felt like to lose everything.To be stripped of dignity and status and comfort.
But as he turned to enter the smithy, the image that rose in his mind wasn't of the deceitful girl who'd betrayed him.It was of brown eyes filled with tears, of a voice breaking as it whispered,"Why?"
Boyd pushed the memory away and stepped into the heat of the forge, telling himself he was doing the right thing.
Telling himself that vengeance would finally bring him peace.
