She nodded quietly. He lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary, his hand ghosting over her shoulder before descending back into the cold duties of his rank.
With a final, lingering look that promised a return, he turned. By the time he reached the meeting chamber, the tenderness had been filed away behind a wall of iron.
His captains and councilmen stood around the heavy oak table, their faces grim. Harald took his seat at the head, his hands folded before him, the wooden bird Enya had received still heavy in his mind.
"Give me the report," Harald commanded, his voice flat.
Gunner, his most senior guard, stepped forward. He looked exhausted, his leather armor scuffed and mud stained. "We’ve scoured the entire coast, me jarl. We found the remains o’ three camps. Small fires, hidden in the hollows. They’re movin' light."
"And Finley Cameron?" Harald asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Naething, me jarl," Gunner sighed, shaking his head. "It’s like chasing a ghost in the mist. We found tracks leading inland toward the ridges, but they’ve been obscured wi’ pine boughs. They’re disciplined. They dinnae leave a footprint they dinnae want us tae find."
Harald leaned back, his chair creaking. The absence of a trail was a message in itself. A raiding party would have been loud, messy, and eager for a fight. But Finley... Finley was a predator. He was patient. He was waiting for the keep to exhale, waiting for Harald to grow complacent in his newfound happiness.
He felt a cold chill settle in his chest. Before, Finley was a threat to his borders. Now, Finley was a threat to the only thing that made his life worth living.
"He’s circling," Harald said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "He wants us tae think he’s gone so we’ll stop looking."
He looked at his captains. "Double the patrols on the inland ridges. I want a man on every high point from here tae the border. If a crow flies over those hills, I want tae ken its color. Finley thinks he can wait us out."
Harald stood, his shadow stretching long across the maps on the table. "He’s about tae find out that the Hawk daesnae just watch from the heights. He strikes.”
The dismissal was final. His captains nodded in grim silence and filtered out of the room.
The heavy oak door groaned shut, leaving Harald alone with the silence. He remained standing, his knuckles leaning against the table.
He turned to the desk in the corner of the room, sat heavily, and drew a fresh sheet of parchment toward him. His movements were careful, but his chest felt tight. He took up the quill, the scratch of the nib against the surface the only sound in the room.
His Majesty,he began, his hand steady even as his mind raced.
He reported the hostile Highland force, the lack of banners, and the targeting of the village granary. He was formally declaring Finley a rebel—an outlaw of the Crown. By doing so, he was stripping away the protection of clan politics. He was asking for the king's seal to hunt Finley.
But he knew what this meant for Enya. By sending this letter, Harald was drawing a line between her and her brother that could never be uncrossed.
"Tav," he called out, his voice low but carrying.
The door cracked open. "Me laird?"
"Ask the Lady tae join me. And tell the messenger tae ready the swiftest galley in the harbor. He sails fer the king as soon as the tide turns."
A soft footfall announced her arrival a few minutes later.
Enya entered the chamber with her usual quiet poise, though he noticed the way her gaze immediately flickered to the parchment on the desk. She looked composed, her hair tied back in a neatbraid, but the sensitivity he had come to recognize in her showed in the slight tension of her jaw.
"Ye asked fer me, Harald?" she said. Her voice was neutral, but her searching eyes were wary.
"I’ve written tae the king," Harald said, rising from his chair. He didn't move toward her yet, giving her the space she needed to process the words. "I am reporting Finley’s actions. Formally. I’m labeling his men as a hostile force operating wi’ nae sanction. As ye ken, he has been setting fire tae villages and tae our winter supplies."
Enya went still. He watched the realization dawn on her face, the way her pupils dilated.
"Ye're declaring him a criminal," she whispered.
"If I send it, he will be tried fer treason," Harald said, his voice firm but not unkind. He finally closed the distance between them, stopping just a foot away. He could see the fine tremor in her hands. "If I hide his actions, I cannae keep ye safe here."
Enya looked down at the letter, her expression a mask of pained conflict. He knew she didn't forgive Finley after the way he had used her, but the bond of blood was a stubborn thing. To expose him was to sever her last tie to her past.
"He did this tae himself," she said, her voice shaking with a sudden, fiery conviction that surprised him. She looked up, her eyes bright. "He burned villages. He nearly kidnapped me. He chose this path, Harald. Send it."
