"Like scouts," Harald finished grimly. "Or an advance party."
"Aye." Leo's jaw tightened. "Could be the brigands from the ambush, gone tae ground while they wait fer things tae quiet down."
"Could be." But Harald's instincts said otherwise. The attack on Enya had been too organized, too well-timed. And now there were men moving through his forest with military precision.
This wasn't random violence. This was planning.
"Double the patrols," he said. "I want every trail watched, every approach covered. And tell the men tae look fer camps, any sign of sustained presence."
"Ye think someone's settlin' in fer a siege?"
"I dinnae ken yet." Harald's mind was already racing ahead, connecting pieces that formed an ugly picture. "But I sure want to find answers. I want tae ken who and why before they get what they came fer."
Leo studied him for a long moment. “Is this about what happened tae lady Cameron yesterday?”
Harald thought of Enya's hands on his arm, gentle and careful. Thought of the genuine fear in her eyes when he'd found her cornered by wolves. Thought of the way she'd looked at him when he'd defended her against Henry.
"I dinnae ken what tae believe," he admitted. "But I cannae afford tae trust blindly. Nae with me people's safety at stake."
"Fair enough." Leo gathered the maps. "I'll get the patrols organized. Ye should get some sleep, ye look half-dead."
"I'm fine."
"Ye're nae fine. Ye're worryin' about tracks and brigands and whether yer future wife is a spy." Leo headed for the door, then paused. "Fer what it's worth? She doesnae strike me as one to play tricky games."
He left before Harald could respond, leaving him alone with maps that showed nothing and suspicions that felt like betrayal.
"Are ye certain ye want tae dae this, me lady?"
Amelia's voice was gentle with concern as she helped Enya dress. The bruise on Enya's jaw had darkened overnight, and her hands still shook slightly when she thought about the wolves.
"I need tae." Enya fastened her belt with hands that were steadier than they'd been. "I cannae hide in me chamber ferever. The household needs tae see me, and I need tae..." She trailed off.
"Need tae what?"
Need tae see if he still looks at me like I’ve betrayed him.
"Need tae start learnin' this place," Enya said instead. "If I'm tae be lady here, I should ken the people who'll be under me care."
"Even though they whisper that ye're touched by death?"
"Especially because of that." Enya lifted her chin. "I've spent me whole life lettin' people's fear dictate what I could dae. I'll nae start again here."
Amelia's expression softened. "There's the spirit. Come on, then. Let's show them what the Cameron lass is made of."
They started in the kitchens—the heart of any castle, where news traveled faster than horses and opinions were formed with brutal honesty. Enya steeled herself for stares and whispers as they entered.
The head cook, a formidable woman named Greer, looked up from a pot of something that smelled wonderful and fixed Enya with an assessing stare.
"So ye're the one, then," Greer said without preamble. "The lady with the different eyes."
"Aye." Enya refused to look away. "I'm Enya Cameron. Soon tae be Lady of Lewis."
"Soon tae be." Greer's expression was unreadable. "We'll see about that, willnae we? Ten days is a long time."
"Is it a threat or a challenge?" Enya asked before she could think better of it.
A smile cracked Greer's stern face. "A bit of both, maybe.”
