Torin closed his eyes to stop them from burning. “Fire.”
“God help you, lad,” Adams lamented. “How did you survive?”
Torin rose up, brushed off his breeches, and turned back for the castle. “I ran.”
“Galien,” Braya said,with a warning lilt in her voice. “I would hear Father’s voice on the matter.”
“Soon,” said her brother, sitting at their father’s kitchen table. “Father’s voice will be mine.”
“Until then,” growled Rowley Hetherington next to him, “my voice is mine and if you interrupt my thoughts on this matter again, mine will be the only male voice to be heard in this house for a long time to come!” he shouted, coming to a close.
His son closed his mouth and did not open it again.
“Now, Braya, tell me again why you and Sir Torin believe ’twas the warden who advised the Armstrongs to attack.”
She patiently told her father—for the second time—everything she and Torin had spoken about tonight. “The warden wants us to think we need him—and…we do, but not as much as we have been made to believe. He is the one who needs us.”
“’Tis ingenious really,” her father muttered through his teeth. “The bastard.”
“Father,” Braya started as she reached across the table and touched his arm. She cut a worried glance to her mother sitting beside her. “He is the one who needs us because the Scots are returning.”
Galien cast her a look of shock and fear. “How do you know this?”
“Sir Torin heard the Scots speaking of it when he was in Berwick last month.”
“Father.” Her brother turned fully on the bench to face him. “If this is true, we need to send out the call for our other brothers to gather.”
“’Tis true,” Braya interjected. It was time her voice started being heard. She disagreed with her brother and she was tired of being quiet about it. Her sword was worth more than silence. “But why should we fight for a man who deceives us with little regard if we, his guests, were taken against our wills or killed. I do not wish to risk my life or any of yours for him.”
“You have no firm basis for your argument, Sister. We do not know for certain if the warden had anything to do with the Armstrongs. There is no proof. I do not want to take the word of a man I do not know. A man who killed four of my cousins, and stand by while the Scot’s army decimates Carlisle and takes over. Where will we be then?”
No! She saw that Galien’s words were making sense to her father. She shook her head. “Father, please, do not cast us into a war that will take more sons from their parents, more brothers from their sisters, more fathers, husbands. Do not, Ibegyou, send us to our deaths over the warden.”
“Braya.” Galien held up his hand. “’Tis not just for the warden, but for Carlisle and for Cumberland. We fought the Scots five years ago and won. We will win again.”
“At what cost?” she demanded and looked again at her father.
“Leave me, both of you,” he said and waved them away.
Braya rose and left the table, the kitchen, and kept on going out of the house. She didn’t want to be around anyone. War was coming. Her family was most likely going to fight. Torin had called the Scots “a formidable army”. What was best for her family? If they helped Bennett and he conquered the Scots again, things would remain the same. If they didn’t help and he lost, the Scots would sit in Carlisle and everything would change.
Perhaps, in the long run, fighting wasn’t a mistake.
She wished she were with Torin now. She looked toward the stable. She could have her horse ready in minutes. What more was there to do here but worry? Torin didn’t want her to fight. How would she tell him that she might have to? She could fight. It was what she’d been training for, trying to prove her whole life. She was the Hetheringtons’ best fighter. She won all the competitions at all the games and could beat almost any man she came against. If her family went to war with the Scots, she had no choice but to join them.
The more she thought about telling him, the more she wanted to go to him. They would think of something together. She thought more clearly when she was with him. She gave herself a dozen reasons why she needed to go…go saddle Archer and find him, kiss him as she’d kissed him yesterday. The memory of his mouth on hers, the taste of him, the scent of him…she almost laughed out loud hurrying toward the stable.
She couldn’t wait to see him. To—
“Braya!” She turned to find Will Noble hurrying toward her. “’Tis Millie! I think the babe is coming!”
The babe! Oh, none of them thought of the babe and what kind of world they were bringing him or her into. “Mother!” she shouted toward the house. “Mother! ’Tis Millie!” There was no time to worry about her family now. Millie needed her.
Braya stepped outof Millie and Will’s house and leaned against the doorframe. She breathed a deep breath and reveled in the cool, fresh, evening air. Early evening of the next day. Dear God, seventeen hours.
Poor Millie. It had been a difficult birth. Her babe was turned feet-first. Thank God the older women had come to take over. Braya’s mother and her aunts, including Millie’s mother, had known what special maneuvers to use to help little David come into the world.
Braya was glad she had been there to watch and learn, but it also scared the hell out of her and made her realize Millie was more courageous than she. She felt a bit shaken, stunned, and a bit sick to her stomach at what she’d just witnessed. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it but she’d never grown accustomed to it and she never would. It was the most violent, most savage experience of a woman’s life.
