"What’s wrong? Are ye ill?" He was moving before he could think, the distance between them vanishing in two long strides. He reached for her, his hands desperate to touch her, to fix whatever had brought that look to her face. "Tell me what has happened."
He reached out, his large hands cupping her face with a gentleness that felt clumsy. He used his thumbs to tilt her chin up, searching her eyes. They were bright with unshed tears, shimmering with a frantic, desperate energy. "Ye’re tremblin', lass. Tell me what has happened."
Enya took a deep breath, her eyes fluttering shut against his touch. For a moment, she leaned into his palms, and the intimacy of the gesture made his chest ache.
Then, she pulled back—just an inch, but it felt like a mile.
"I need tae tell ye something," she breathed. "Harald... please, just... fergive me when I dae."
His hands dropped to his sides, the warmth in his blood turning to a sudden, prickling chill. He took a half-step back, his jaw tightening as the reserved, controlled mask of the laird began to slide back into place. Confusion warred with a rising, cold dread.
"Fergive ye fer what?" his voice was lower now, laced with a tremor of fear he couldn't entirely hide. "Enya, ye’re scarin' me. What is goin' on?"
"I havenae been completely honest wi’ ye," she started, her gaze still firmly set on his. "From the very beginnin'. From the moment I arrived at yer gates."
Harald stood perfectly still. He felt as though the floor were tilting beneath his boots.
"Go on," he commanded. He had known from beginning, so why was he so surprised? Had his feelings fully obliterated his suspicions?
Enya’s voice was a thin, ragged thread in the silence. "Finley... never wanted this marriage, Harald. He only agreed tae it because he was certain ye were plannin' tae raze our lands. "
Harald felt a dull, thrumming ache begin behind his eyes. He stayed perfectly still, his breath hitching in his chest. "And?"
"And so he sent me as an… observer," she whispered. The confession spilled out of her like a lanced wound, raw and messy. "A spy. I was supposed tae find the proof o’ yer intent. I was supposed tae tell him when tae strike before ye could."
A cold, sickening numbness began to spread from Harald's stomach to his limbs. He looked at the desk where his maps lay.
"That night... in the hallway," she continued, her voice shaking so hard it almost broke. "When ye found me outside this door. We both ken I wasnae lost, Harald. The truth is I needed tae find yer maps, yer orders... I needed proof fer Finley so he could justify a war."
Harald felt the air leave the room. He remembered that night vividly—how he’d doubted her, how they played chess, and how much he had wanted her that night.
I’m a fool.
"I succeeded another night," she whispered. Her face was as pale as the bone-dust on his ledgers. "I found yer papers. I broke intae this room while ye were out, the way ye showed me."
The words echoed in his skull, a dull, rhythmic thud. He had felt so safe with her. He had let his guard down for the first time in his life, only for her to stand over his desk and pick through his life like a scavenger.
"That was when I realized," she choked out. Her fingers twisted so hard in her skirts that the silk groaned, a sharp, protesting sound in the quiet room. "I realized ye werenae plannin' a war. Ye were plannin' fer the winter. Ye were plannin' tae save yer people, nae kill mine."
Harald didn't answer. He stood like a man carved from the very stone of the keep, his arms crossed over his chest to hold himself together. His silence was a wall as she continued to tear down the world they had built.
"I’d meet him in the forest," she rushed on, the words tumbling out in a frantic, desperate blur. "Finley. I stole away while the keep slept. Those nights... ye caught me, and I told ye I needed air..." Her voice dropping to a jagged whisper. "I was lyin' tae yer face."
She stepped closer, the motion desperate. Her eyes searched his face, but Harald remained a statue.
"When I finally refused tae continue, when I told him the mission was over... that was why he took me," she pleaded, her hands hovering in the air between them as if she were trying to touch him. "He took me because I was a traitor taehim. Because I choseye."
Harald felt the words hit him, but they didn't bring warmth. They felt like salt in a raw wound. She had chosen him—but only after she’d weighed his soul against her brother’s malice.
She’d looked at his secrets, his private maps, his very life, and decided he was worth sparing.
The betrayal was a cold, physical weight in his lungs.
Harald still said nothing.
His gaze was fixed on a point just above her head, his eyes dark and hollow. Inside, he was drowning. Every word was a jagged blade.
"Say somethin'," she begged, a single tear finally escaping and tracking down her cheek. "Please, Harald. Say anythin'."
