Leo’s mouth curved into a knowing, pitying smile. “Aye. And ye’ve always had a taste fer sharp blades, even when they’re pressed tae yer throat.”
“Nae when I dinnae ken where the edge is.” Harald let out a jagged breath. “I have nae idea if she’s here tae save me or ruin me.”
“Ye’ve spent yer life keepin’ folk at arm’s length,” Leo said, stepping closer, his voice dropping. “Maybe ye’re tired o’ the cold, Harald. She is tae be yer wife. Give her a chance tae be somethin' other than an enemy.”
The words cut deep. Harald nodded once—the signal for Leo to shut up.
Leo gave a small, mocking bow and peeled away, leaving Harald to the wind.
Give her a chance.
He watched a longship struggle against the channel below, its sail straining against a gale. He’d trusted men before. He’d watched them swear oaths while their eyes measured the distance to his back. He’d learned to live in the silence of his own head, keeping his heart behind iron bars.
But Enya… she made him want to rip those bars down. She made him want to speak without a shield. It was a terrifying, visceral pull that left him feeling weak.
He straightened his spine, forcing the laird back to the surface. He would watch her. He would weigh her soul until he found the entrance.
But as he turned toward the keep, her face rose in his mind—the tilt of her head, the heat of her skin, the quiet fire in her mismatched eyes. A thought he hadn’t dared to finish finally took shape, cold and absolute.
If she betrays me, I willnae just bleed. I’ll burn tae the ground.
Enya waited until the last footstep faded down the stairs before she moved. She eased from her chamber with Amelia close behind her, the maid a ghost of silence.
Enya kept her shoulders square, her chin level, a mask of cold resolve forged from years of hiding. Outwardly, she was calm; inwardly, her stomach was a knot of jagged glass. Every shadowon the wall looked like a guard; every creak of the floor sounded like a shout.
If we’re caught…
She couldn’t finish the thought. She couldn't afford to imagine the look on Harald’s face if he found her thieving in the dark again. It would be worse than the rejection in the training yard; it would be the total destruction of the fragile, heat-soaked hope that had bloomed in the great hall.
Her conscience screamed at her to turn back, but the logical voice in her head—the one that sounded like the cold click of a lock—silenced it.
Finley is waiting,yeare a Cameron. This feeling between ye is a temporary fever. He will look at yer eyes and remember ye are the enemy. He will choose his duty over ye.
Amelia glanced at her, brows lifting in a question. Enya gave the smallest nod and kept moving, her pace unhurried, as though she had every right to be there.
She didn’t. Every step felt like a betrayal of the man who had just lifted her toward the rafters with hands that felt like they wanted to hold her forever.
She slowed at the study door, her heart hammering so hard against her ribs it felt like it might bruise. She listened, counting her own shallow breaths. No sound. No rustle of parchment, no movement. She reached for the handle, and it gave easily beneath her hand.
For a heartbeat, she froze, fingers still curled around the iron.
Unlocked.
Relief came sharp and immediate, followed by a sickening wave of anxiety. Harald was not a careless man. He was a strategist. Leaving the door open felt like a trap—or worse, a gesture of trust.
He didnae lock it because he daesnae think I’m a threat.
Her guilt turned into a dull ache.
Enya pushed the door inward, just enough to slip through. Amelia followed, closing it behind them with infinite, agonizing care.
The room was as she remembered it, orderly to the point of restraint. Nothing had been moved, nothing left carelessly out of place. Shelves, maps, ledgers, all where they should be. Even the candle burned the way he always kept it, trimmed and steady. Enya’s attention moved through the space without lingering, her focus fixed on what might be hidden.
She moved to the table and opened the nearest ledger. Amelia hovered at her shoulder, eyes darting to the door keeping watch, then back to Enya’s hands. The pages were neat, with columns of figures running straight and clean, dates marked, names listed. Supply tallies. Grain, salted meat, dried fish.
She scanned everything quickly, her heart beating madly.
No lists of ships beyond what was already here. No hints of expansion. No ambitions scrawled in the margins, no coded notes to suggest conquest.
