A broken jug. Clay shards scattered across the ground, and the unmistakable smell of oil.
Magnus picked up a piece, turned it over in his hand. This wasn't a storage jug. It was too small, too fine. The kind of thing someone would carry to deliberately spread oil and start a fire.
And there, pressed into the soft earth near the wall, a boot print. Large and too deep to have been made casually.
Someone had stood there and had started the fire deliberately.
"Torvald."
His second appeared at his elbow. "Aye?"
"Look at this." Magnus pointed to the boot print and the clay shard in his hand. "This wasnae an accident."
Torvald's expression darkened. "Are ye sure?"
"Oil jug. Boot print too big tae belong tae our stable boys." Magnus stood, his jaw tight. "Someone set this fire on purpose."
"But why? Who would dae something like that?"
“This I dinnae ken. I need ye to investigate this.”
"Aye, me laird!"
Magnus turned, still looking around for any clue and caught sight of Ada. She stood at the edge of the yard, still wearing her night shift with a cloak thrown hastily over it, her blonde hair loose and wild around her face.
Fury surged through him. "What are ye daein' here? I told ye tae stay in the chamber." Magnus crossed to her in three long strides. "I told ye tae lock the door and wait fer me."
"I ken what ye told me, but people needed help, it’s a fire Magnus."
"What if it wasnae just a fire? What if we were under attack? What if someone had set this deliberately tae draw us out?"Magnus grabbed her shoulders, not roughly but firmly. "Ye could have been hurt. Killed. Dae ye understand that?"
Ada's chin lifted. "I'm nae helpless, Magnus. I'm learning tae become a healer. When people are injured, I help. That's what I dae."
"And when ye're dead because ye ran toward danger instead of away from it, who will help them then?" Magnus released her, ran a hand through his hair. "Damn, Ada."
"That is exactly what yer dae. I'm sorry I worried ye. But I'm fine, and people need—" Ada stopped. Her gaze dropped to his shoulder. "Ye're hurt. Ye're bleedin' through yer shirt." Ada moved closer, reaching for the torn fabric. "Let me see."
"Later."
"Now." Ada's voice was firm. "If ye're goin' tae yell at me fer nae stayin' safe, then ye dinnae get tae ignore yer own injuries."
Torvald cleared his throat. "She has a point."
Magnus shot him a look. Torvald grinned and walked away.
"Fine," Magnus said. "But nae here. Inside."
"I can see tae it here."
"Inside, Ada. I willnae have the whole keep watchin' while me wife tends me wounds."
Ada's expression softened slightly. "All right. Inside."
They walked back toward the keep. Magnus was acutely aware of the men watching them—with concern, with curiosity, some with barely hidden smirks.
His laird, brought to heel by a slip of a Highland lass barely five feet tall.
He'd hear about this for weeks.
