Struan staggered a little, blinking at her. A tendril of blood rolled down from one nostril, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.
“Charming,” she remarked wryly. “Come, ye should take some water. I’ll watch him, men. Ye can go inside for yer breakfasts.”
The guards exchanged looks, clearly not happy, but one of them gave a curt nod. She led the way, striding across the field to a low, heavy-looking outbuilding. After a moment, they set off towards the Keep.
“There’s a water butt around the back,” she explained, glancing over her shoulder. “It’s more private, and the water seems to taste sweeter.
“Aye, as ye like,” Struan said, his voice a little thick.
Behind the outbuilding, there was a secluded corner. A stone bench was built into the wall beside the butt, and a wooden ladle hung from the lid. Struan seized it and drank thirstily, using a few handfuls of water to rinse the blood from his face. Crossing her arms, Una watched him.
“Ye could have dodged that punch,” she stated flatly.
He chuckled. “Ye think so? I don’t.”
“I call myself a warrior,” Una said, choosing her words carefully, “but I’ve only seen one big battle. I’m young, and I’m at the beginning of my journey. I know that. There’s a lot for me to learn. But ye, on the other hand, ye are a veteran.”
“Did ye just come here to flatter me?”
She ignored his joke.
“So if I, a lass with barely any experience, could see that ye could have dodged that punch, then ye could certainly have managed it.”
He was silent for a moment, leaning over the water butt. It took Una a moment to realize that he was looking at his reflection.
“Perhaps I felt that I deserved it,” he said shortly.
Una blinked. She hadn’t expected his answer.
“What?”
Struan turned to face her, and there was something raw in his eyes.
“Ye heard me,” he whispered. “What’s a punch in the face compared to what my father did to me? I don’t like to whine about my life. We all have sob stories. Sometimes, though, the pain makes me feel at home. It’s all I’ve known, after all.”
Una stared at him and swallowed hard. “Ye don’t deserve it, Struan.”
“Oh, no? Ye didn’t always think that. Once, ye thought that death was too good for me.”
“Aye, but… but people can change, can’t they?”
He chuckled, but there was no mirth in it. Struan met her eyes, and there was only sadness and heaviness there.
“Ye are right. I’ve changed. I was once a warrior, the pride of Clan Dickson. Now I’m a hostage. A traitor. A useless heir. I imagine they all laugh at me back at my father’s Keep. I used to be something, and now I’m nothing.”
Una wasn’t sure what made her move. There wasn’t much space between them, only a few strides, but she covered it at once and reached up to grab his face between her hands.
“Ye are notuseless,” she hissed. “Ye are notnothing, Struan. Ye are one of the greatest warriors in the Highlands. That is true no matter who ye fight for, no matter how many punches ye let yerself take. And just because yer father turned his back on ye doesn’t mean that nobody cares for ye. Ye have a sister who adores ye, man!”
He gave a chuckle, and something like a tiny, tiny smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. His cheeks were rough with stubble, and it prickled deliciously at Una’s palms. She swallowed hard, meeting his eye and holding it.
“And I… I’m a wee bit fond of ye myself, truth be told. Just a bit.”
He smiled properly at that, but there was sadness in it.
“Oh, aye? Forgive me for not believing ye.”
Una frowned, pursing her lips together.
