It did not take long for the villagers to fire back.
“At least we daenae run from a real wind.”
“Pull, ye lazy bastards!”
The rope jerked again, and their faces reddened. The girl at the back of the villager line had both hands pressed over her mouth,and the young pirate kept his gaze fixed on the rope as if he could will it to move.
Emma stood to the side, her skirt brushing the dirt, chin tilted up. Her hands were clasped tightly, but she did not flinch.
For a while, time seemed to stretch.
The rope dragged half a foot toward the pirates, then eased back to the center. No more. Men were grunting now with each haul. Even Pete’s jaw was clenched.
It slowly became clear that no one was winning.
And no one wanted to be the first to let go.
“Enough,” Logan barked.
Some hands held a moment longer out of pure spite before they dropped. The rope sagged, then fell to the ground. Silence followed as a few men bent over, their palms on their knees. The father straightened with a wince and rubbed his shoulder. Pete rolled his neck and spat in the dirt.
Everyone looked at Logan.
He stepped into the space between them, beside the rope.
“Ye all saw it,” he said. “Ye pulled till ye nearly tore yer arms out and still, nobody won.”
No one argued. Pride would not let them claim they had held back.
“So here is what that tells me,” he continued. “There is nay stronger group here. Villagers. Pirates. Ye are the same when it comes to the strength of yer bodies.”
He let his gaze sweep across all faces, lingering long enough that they had to look up.
“If ye draw blood over this, ye daenae prove anything except that ye are fools. Ye weaken the same ground ye all stand on. Ye are part of the same clan and the same shore.”
A few older villagers shifted, lowering their eyes. One or two pirates scowled, but they listened.
“The lass went with the lad,” Logan said, nodding toward the girl and the boy. “If there is shame, it rests on both their shoulders, and I see nay shame in them standing together now.”
The girl’s hand finally slid into the boy’s. It was a small gesture, but it was visible. Logan’s eyes flicked to it and then back to the people.
“Nay blood,” he insisted. “Nae today, and nae for this. Ye want to take a life, it will be on me order, for crimes that deserve it.”
He felt the weight of that promise as he spoke it, but he didn’t stop.
“From now on, ye will share more than a stretch of dirt to shout on. Ye are all braithers and sisters, and when I say so, ye will fight side by side. It doesnae matter if trouble comes for the sea or for the land. If ye turn yer blades on each other, ye turn them on me.”
The last words landed heavy, and the silence told him he had definitely gotten through to the people.
He straightened, letting his body breathe the relief that crashed into him.
“To mark this union between the two of ye, there will be a feast at the castle. A festival. Ye will all come. Every man who pulled on that rope, and every fool who shouted on the side.”
That did the trick. Festivals meant food, drink, and music. It also meant no one could claim they were kept outside.
The murmurs started again, but they were different now. They were murmurs of agreement and excitement. Behind him, Pete clicked his tongue, and a smile of approval spread across his face.
“Listen to ye,” a voice from the pirate line called, louder than it should have been. “Soft as a priest. The sea has made ye hard, but this land is making ye soft, me Laird.”
