“Almost. I want to say one more thing, and then I’m done.”
He folded his hands. “Ye’ve been holdin’ things together in this clan since ye were seventeen years old. Ye fixed yer father’sdebts and yer father’s wars and yer brother’s messes, and ye did it without complainin’ and without askin’ for help and at considerable cost to yerself.”
He said it plainly, without performance. “Ye deserve somethin’ that’s just yers, Noah. Nae a responsibility. Nae a problem to manage. Just somethin’ good.” He stood. “That’s all I wanted to say.”
He picked up his reports and walked out.
Noah sat with that for a moment. Then he looked back at his desk and got on with the morning.
Esther appeared at his study door at two in the afternoon.
This was not unusual.
She had developed the habit over the past several days of arriving in the mid-afternoon when her lessons with Ava were done, sitting in the leather chair by the window, and doing her reading while Noah worked.
Usually, she brought a book.
Today she brought questions.
She came in, climbed into the chair, and looked around the study with the focused attention she gave to things she was seeing properly for the first time. Which was odd, because she’d been sitting in this room for days.
Then she pointed at the large map on the wall behind his desk.
“What’s that?”
“A map of the territory.” He turned to look at it. “The clan’s land. Everythin’ within these lines is MacGregor.”
She studied it seriously. “It’s big.”
“Aye.”
“Is all of it ours?”
“All of it.” He paused. “Yers too. When ye’re grown, ye’ll ken it as well as I do.”
She absorbed this with a small nod, as if adding it to an ongoing inventory. “What are those marks?”
“The circles are villages. The lines are boundaries, where our land ends and the next clan’s begins.”
He came around the desk and crouched beside her chair so they were at the same height. “See this one? That’s us. MacGregorCastle. And these here...” he traced the villages. “These are the families that come under our protection.”
“Protection from what?”
“Disputes. Unfair treatment. Other clans who might want their land.” He looked at her. “Being a laird mostly means makin’ sure people are safe and treated fairly. The swordfightin’ is a small part of it. Most of it is paperwork.”
Esther looked at the map for another moment. “I thought it was mostly swordfightin’.”
“Most people think that.”
She seemed to find this satisfying.
She turned her attention to his desk and surveyed the contents with the methodical interest of someone conducting a survey.
“What’s in that box?”
“Sealin’ wax. For letters.” He lifted the lid to show her. “When ye send an official letter, ye seal it with wax and press the clan seals into it before it dries. It tells the person receivin’ it that the letter hasnae been opened.”
“Can I see the seal?”
