“So the new laird...?”
“Had best watch his back, else he’ll end up like the others and another unlucky fool will take his place. Or the wrong man with enough minions to help him hold power.”
“When did this clan turn into a nest of vipers?”
Elizabeth gestured toward a window and the battlements beyond it. “The good men, except for those few left behind to man the walls, went to fight with the king. The lazy, wastrel, cowardly...well, if they could, they remained behind. When the good men failed to return...”
“The rest began to fight over the spoils.” Coira nodded.
“And the good men left behind were outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and, eventually, outmatched.”
“Why do the troublemakers cling to a semblance of order, a laird and a council?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Ambition, I suppose. To become the rightful laird, ye must have in place a lairdship to assume and a clan to rule. Chaos serves no master.”
Coira glanced over to where Mhairi was settling her charges down for a nap. “Thank heavens for that. Or the women and bairns would be in great danger from a mob of desperate men.”
“It may yet come to that.” Elizabeth stilled her chair. “Logen didna want the job, but cooler heads prevailed and convinced him to take it. Logen is a master on the seas and an accomplished warrior. He knows how to deal with trouble from the island clans as well as the Campbells. But there are no guarantees our troubles are over. There could still be factions that hope to remove him and replace him with one of their own. It remains to be seen whether he can hold power and become the leader this clan needs. He may no’ have enough time.”
“Who is helping him?”
“So far? A handful of fishermen and men who were his friends before this came about. The women could help, but I think most want to stay out of the men’s battles lest they suffer for having chosen the wrong side.”
“We need to do something to build support within the clan.”But what?
“And how do ye propose to do that when ye need to build support for yerself.”
“Perhaps the two are not mutually exclusive.”
“Have a care, cousin. Yer acceptance depends on building bridges, no’ burning them. To do that, ye must avoid taking sides. Remain neutral. Stay out of the power struggles. Besides, what can ye, a woman, do, when the men play politics and worse?”
Coira didn’t know how to respond to that, but she had an idea the Healer’s gift might be just the edge Logen needed.
****
Coira was tiring of mincing about the keep, smiling and staying neutral. Another week passed uneventfully. No one seemed to be hiding any anger or frustration. Many still shunned her, but after hearing some of the rumors going around about her time in the Highlands, she understood why. It pained her to know how much more work she had to do to be accepted. Still, none of the rumors were as bad as the truth, and that, at least, was still her secret to keep.
She needed a change of scenery, a diversion, or she would be the one hiding frustration and anger. Elizabeth arrived in time to keep her from pacing a rut across the floor of her chamber.
“Thank goodness, ye’re here. I’m about to go out of my mind.”
“Ye are doing well, Coira. I overheard Nan say something almost even-handed about the work ye did for her yesterday.”
Coira wasn’t sure if Elizabeth was serious or not until she broke into a grin.
“Wonderful.” Coira planted her hands on her hips. “I’m running out of ideas. What else can I do to raise opinions of me? Leave the keep?”
“I have the solution for that,” Elizabeth told her with a smirk.
“Truly?” Coira instantly felt lighter. “Where are we going? I hope ye have something interesting in mind.” Elizabeth had been taking her around the keep, reacquainting her with the nooks and crannies they’d explored as children, as well as out of the keep into the meadow and down to the beach, but never out of sight of the keep’s high walls.
“The fishing boats have been spotted on their way in. Everyone is headed for the beach to help carry the catch back up to the kitchen.”
Coira groaned. This was work she was familiar with, having done it many times as a young girl, but it was not the sort of diversion she hoped for. It was one time when every able-bodied member of the clan worked together, bringing down baskets and carrying them back up, full of fresh fish to be cooked for the evening meal, or salted and dried for later use in soups and stews. “Let’s go then.” Her mouth watered at the thought of roasting fish for dinner even as she winced at the thought of the hard, messy work to come.
They collected their baskets from the kitchen in companionable silence, then joined the line of people making their way down the cliff path to the beach. Once everyone was down the single-file path, people could begin to carry the loaded baskets back up the cliff to the keep.
Coira spotted Logen standing at the shoreline, hands on his hips, as the first boat, a small, flat-bottomedbirlinn,beached. He moved forward to grab a net, passing its length through his hands with obvious skill. Others joined him, clearing the nets and tossing fish into small baskets. Coira’s gaze was captured by the ripple of muscle in his arms and across his broad back as he worked.
