His eyes flicked to Lilliana. She was watching him, but seemed less afraid than when he had first stepped into the clearing. The trust in her eyes, the certainty that he would save her, broke his heart. He did not want to let another person down.
“Sorcha, I’m sorry. I didnae ken ye were alive, but ye’re right. I should have looked for ye. I shouldnae have let anything stop me. Can ye ever forgive me?”
Sorcha’s face contorted with hatred, turning red and splotchy with anger. “Nay! I will destroy ye and the entire clan for what ye did to me.”
Kayden’s heart sank. “It’s ye.Yehave been poisoning the well.”
“Of course it’s me.” Sorcha grinned maniacally, her eyes darkening. “Because nay one listens until they are made to.”
Kayden saw Lilliana shift, the smallest movement. He lifted a hand, signaling her to stay still. His gaze never left Sorcha’s.
“Why did ye do it?” he asked, the words tasting wrong in his mouth.
Sorcha’s chin lifted. “I corrected an imbalance.”
“That is madness.”
“Nay.” Sorcha took a slow breath before continuing. “This is what ye do when the world teaches ye that mercy is weakness.”
Kayden’s stomach twisted. “We were raised better than that.”
Sorcha let out a mirthless laugh. “Were we? I remember being raised to obey. To keep quiet. To swallow insults. And what did that earn us?” Her voice sharpened. “It earned me an English blade at me throat and men laughing as they dragged me away.”
Kayden’s hand clenched at his side. “Sorcha…”
Her eyes glistened, but her expression remained hard. “Ye didnae come for me,” she said, and that was the truest wound in her voice. Not accusation, but hurt.
Kayden’s chest constricted. “I searched for ye.”
“For a week,” Sorcha spat. “Just a week, Kayden. And then ye went back to yer hall. Back to duty. Back to being the Laird.”
He swallowed hard. “I thought ye were gone.”
“I was,” she whispered. “And when I crawled back from what they did, I found out ye had replaced me with an English whore.”
Kayden’s gaze flicked to Lilliana for just a fraction, then back to Sorcha. “This has nothing to do with her.”
Sorcha’s eyes narrowed. “Everything has to do with her.”
Kayden’s temper flared. “She is me wife.”
The words echoed in the open air, possessive and final.
Sorcha’s mouth tightened as if struck. For a breath, her composure slipped, and something raw showed through: hurt, disbelief, grief twisted into hatred.
“Ye choseher,” she said softly. “After everything, ye chose her.”
Kayden’s voice dropped. “I did what I had to do to keep the clan safe.”
Sorcha’s gaze grew unfocused for a heartbeat, as though she were seeing something far away.
“And what of me?” she asked, barely audible. “Was I nae part of the clan?”
Kayden’s throat worked. “Ye are.”
The answer cracked something in her. Her eyes shone, and for the first time, the rage faltered, replaced by something childlike and wounded.
“I waited,” Sorcha said, voice shaking. “Do ye ken that? I waited in the dark, telling meself ye would come. That ye would tear the world apart to bring me home. Like the stories.” She swallowed hard. “But the stories were lies.”
