"So ye decided tae think about it alone in the forest at dusk." He kept his tone neutral. "In winter. When wolves are hungriest and most desperate."
"I didnae think it through."
"Nay, ye didnae." Harald reached for the clean linen he kept in his desk. "That much is clear."
They sat in tense silence while Harald tried to wrap the wound one-handed. It wasn't working—the linen kept slipping, and he couldn't tie it properly without letting go.
"Let me." Enya set her cup aside and moved to stand in front of him. "Please. I... I need tae dae somethin'. It’s the least I can dae after ye saved me. Twice."
Harald wanted to refuse. Wanted to maintain the distance that would keep him safe from whatever scheme she might be part of.
But when she looked at him with those impossible eyes, he found himself nodding.
"Alright."
Enya's hands were steadier now as she unwrapped his clumsy attempt at bandaging.
Her touch was gentle, careful not to cause unnecessary pain. She cleaned the wound with the whisky, while Harald hissed at the sting, and wrapped it properly with practiced efficiency.
"Ye've done this before," he observed.
"I learned."
"From who?"
"Our castle healer. She said I had good hands fer it." Enya tied off the bandage with a neat knot. "There. That should hold."
"Thank ye." Harald flexed his arm, testing the binding. "It's well done."
"It's the least I could dae after ye..." Enya's throat worked. "After ye saved me. Again. I seem tae be makin' a habit of needin' rescue."
"Ye seem tae be makin' a habit of puttin' yerself in danger." Harald caught her wrist gently when she stepped back.
The lie he knew she told sat between them like a wall. Harald felt something in his chest tighten—disappointment, maybe, or the death of hope he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"Right," he said finally. "Well. Get some rest. Ye've had a difficult day. Goodnight, Lady Cameron."
The formality was deliberate. A retreat to the safety of titles and distance. Enya flinched like he'd struck her, and Harald hated himself for the small satisfaction it gave him.
She left without another word, closing the door softly behind her. Harald stood alone in his solar, staring at the neatly wrapped bandage on his arm, and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do with a bride who couldn't—or wouldn't—trust him.
"Ye look like shite."
Harald glared at Leo across the council table. "Thank ye fer that keen observation."
"Just callin' it as I see it." Leo leaned back in his chair, studying Harald with knowing eyes. "Rough night?"
"Ye could say that." Harald spread the patrol reports across the table, such as they were. Mostly blank pages with naething tae report. "Tell me ye found somethin'."
"Nae anythin' useful." Leo's expression turned serious. "But there's tracks. Northern forest paths, near the old huntin’ trails. Recent, by the look of them."
Harald's attention sharpened. "How recent?"
"A day old, maybe two. Multiple sets, all movin' careful-like. Whoever it was kent how tae cover their trail, we only found evidence because Finn's got an eye fer disturbed ground."
"How many?"
"Hard tae say. At least four, maybe more." Leo pulled out a rough map and marked several locations. "They're keepin' tae the thickest cover, avoidin' the main paths. Nae like hunters or travelers. More like..."
