It should have come as no surprise that his mother and the servants had managed to prepare such a feast in such a short time, and yet James was once again surprised by their determination to deliver the best possible result. When he entered the great hall, he found rows upon rows of tables, all of them almost buckling under the weight of the food the servants had piled on them. Torches burned on the walls, banners and tapestries decorated every inch of available space and the musicians were already playing a jolly tune as the first guests arrived.
James didn’t think any of this was necessary, but at the same time, he couldn’t possibly convince his mother of that. She thought it necessary and that was good enough for everyone else, so they had all scrambled to put this feast together under her guidance.
It was a way to welcome him back, she had told him; a way to celebrate the fact that he had made it back alive from his ordeal. But James knew better than that; his mother would grasp anyopportunity to present Evelyn as the future Lady of the Clan, and what better opportunity than a feast? For his mother, this was as much about his return as it was about the marriage she so desperately wanted for him.
And yet, even as James took his seat at the head table, surrounded by his family and the Campbells, all he could do was glance at the doors every few minutes, waiting for the moment Freya would step into the room. Morgana had told him earlier that she had helped her dress for the feast and that he was in for a surprise, but as time passed, James began to worry that the surprise was that Freya would never come.
“Where is she?” he asked Morgana, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against the table. “It’s already been an hour.”
“I’m sure she’s on her way,” Morgana assured him with a small smile. “She only wishes tae look her best fer ye.”
She daesnae need tae dae anything. She’s already the bonniest lass in the world in me eyes.
And yet, he would never dare say that to a woman—especially his sister, who took great pride in the effort she put in her appearance. He could understand it; for women like Morgana, their looks were as important as any other diplomatic skill they held. His sister could wield her beauty like a shield as much as a weapon.
And perhaps that was precisely what Freya needed that day. If she looked the part of a noble girl, then perhaps those around her would be more willing to overlook her humble origins.
He had to give it to Morgana; when it came to such things, she knew what she was doing.
“Dinnae focus so much on what that lass is daeing,” his mother hissed through clenched teeth. “It is time tae focus on Evelyn. Look at her! Daesnae she look lovely?”
James glanced at Evelyn, who was sitting a few seats down, chatting with another young woman James recognized as the daughter of one of the councilmen. She looked lovely, indeed, in a light blue dress, with her golden hair flowing down her shoulders, but that meant nothing to him. Beauty was not the issue here. The issue was that he didn’t love this woman and he never could. His heart belonged to Freya, even if his mother refused to see that.
“I have naething against Evelyn, Maither,” James said quietly, so that only she could hear him. “But ye cannae force me tae love her.”
“All ye speak about is love!” his mother said with a shake of her head. “Dae ye think love matters more than yer duty? Dae ye think yer desires are more important than the future of our clan? Will love feed yer clan or protect it from war?”
“Maither—” said Edward from James’ left side, but James raised a hand to stop him. There was no arguing with their mother.There was no explaining to her that even if he married Freya, as he desired, the future of the clan would not be at stake.
So what if she was a commoner? It wasn’t entirely unheard of for men like him to marry commoners. Unlikely, yes, but not unheard of. Besides, as a capable healer, Freya could only be an asset to their clan.
For a while, James sat there, watching the door. But the longer Freya took to appear, the more he worried that something had happened to her. In the end, he couldn’t take the wait and the worry any longer, and so he stood, excusing himself from the table.
“Where are ye going?” his mother demanded, grabbing his wrist to stop him.
“Tae relieve meself,” James said with a saccharine smile. “Or is that nae allowed either?”
With a stern look, his mother let go of him and James took a moment to straighten his clothes before he pushed through the crowd and stepped out of the great hall. As the doors closed behind him, the sounds of the feast suddenly muffled by the thick wood, his worry only grew.
It had been too long since the feast had begun. The only thing that kept his panic from rising was the fact that Morgana had seen Freya earlier that day, which could only mean she was fine.
Roaming around the halls, James called out her name, listening carefully to see if there would be any response from one of the rooms. No matter how much he called for her, though, there was nothing to give him a hint, no sound or sight that betrayed her location.
He searched for ten minutes, then twenty, then half an hour, and still, he found nothing. With every step he took, his heart beat faster and faster, to the point where he feared it would jump right out of his chest and keep beating uselessly on the floor.
Just as he was about to give up and ask for help from the guards, he caught a glimpse of something strange from the corner of his eye. There, just at the end of the corridor, he saw a swish of green fabric followed by a guard. Running down the hallway, James caught up with him only to see that there was not just one, but two men, and they were carrying Freya.
Freya, who was unconscious, her wrists and ankles bound with rope.
“Stop!” he yelled at them, immediately reaching for his blade. These were men he recognized; MacGregor soldiers who had served under his father for years, not enemies who had disguised themselves as MacGregor soldiers to slip into the castle undetected.
They were his clan’s own men. They were men with whom he had trained.
And they were now his enemies.
To their credit, they didn’t try to fight him, but at the same time, they didn’t let go of Freya.
“Who put ye into this?” James demanded, but neither of the men spoke. They only stared at him in silence, their expressions blank and unreadable, their lips sealed.
