Alpin moved to stand beside her, close enough that their arms touched. "This is where I normally come when I need tae think. When the responsibilities of being laird feel too heavy and I need perspective."
"Daes that happen often?"
"More than I'd like tae admit." He pointed to the south. "That's where Ashcombe is camped. See that line of trees? His men are just beyond that."
Mhairi's expression sobered. "So close."
"Close enough tae be a threat. Far enough that we have warnin’ if they move." His hand settled at the small of her back, a gesture that had become automatic over the past few days. "But we're nae thinkin’ about Ashcombe right now. We're just enjoyin’ the view."
They stood like that for a while, watching the clouds move across the sky and the shadows shift across the land below. When the wind picked up, making Mhairi shiver, Alpin pulled her closer against his side.
"We should head back," he said reluctantly. "Before ye freeze up here."
The descent was easier than the climb, though Alpin kept a careful eye on Mhairi's footing. When they finally reached the bottom, she moved to a bench and sat down with a groan.
"Me legs are goin’ tae hate me tomorrow," she said.
"Consider it trainin’. A healer needs to be able to climb stairs without collapsin’." He pulled her to her feet. "Come on. We're nae done yet."
"Where are we going now?"
"The armory. I need tae inventory weapons, and ye're goin’ tae help me."
The armory was located in a separate building adjacent to the main keep, a practical precaution in case of fire.
Inside, racks of weapons lined the walls: swords, spears, axes, shields. Armor stood on wooden forms, and barrels of oil and cleaning supplies were stacked in the corners.
"This is impressive," Mhairi said, running her hand along a row of swords. "How many warriors dae ye have?"
"About forty full-time, plus militia we can call up in emergencies." Alpin began pulling weapons down for inspection. "Each one needs tae be maintained properly. A rusty sword is worse than no sword at all."
He handed Mhairi a rag and a bottle of oil. "Here. Help me oil these blades."
They worked in companionable silence for a while, Alpin inspecting each weapon while Mhairi cleaned and oiled them. It was peaceful, domestic even, and Alpin found himself relaxing in a way he rarely did during the day.
Then Mhairi dipped her rag into the oil bottle and somehow managed to flick oil directly onto his tunic.
"Oh!" Her hand flew to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."
"Ye got oil on me," Alpin said, looking down at the dark stain spreading across his chest.
"It was an accident!"
"Was it?" He grabbed a rag, dipped it in the water bucket they'd been using to clean the armor, and flicked water at her deliberately.
Mhairi gasped as cold water hit her face and dress. "Alpin!"
"Now we're even."
"Even?" She grabbed her own rag and dipped it in the water. "I'll show ye even!"
She flung water at him. He dodged behind a rack of spears, laughing, and retaliated with his own rag. Water flew everywhere as they chased each other around the armory, ducking behind armor stands and slipping on the sawdust that covered the floor.
Mhairi grabbed a gauntlet from one of the stands and swung it at him playfully. Alpin ducked, then lunged forward and caught her around the waist, spinning her away from the weapons.
"Yield!" he demanded, though he was laughing too hard to sound threatening.
"Never!" But she was laughing too, her wet hair plastered to her face, her dress soaked.
