Chapter Twenty-Five
Dawn broke overthe rugged Highlands as Moira and Ailis slipped their hands beneath Brodie McClain’s shoulders. Their coordination was a silent dance of care.
“Ready?” Moira asked with quiet strength.
Brodie nodded, defiance etched on his determined face. Together, Moira and Ailis helped him into a seated position. Moira was happy to learn about any healing methods from Ailis, now that an injury had touched her life so completely. She’d thought it was a waste of a warrior before, but now… Now she understood.
“Ye can do this, Brodie,” Moira encouraged.
His hands clenched into fists, muscles coiling in preparation. Leaning forward, he pushed through the pain that threatened to overwhelm him. “Up we go,” Ailis prompted softly but firmly, her vibrant green eyes focused on Brodie.
He rose shakily. Despite his anger at his own weakness and the treachery that had brought him low, his confidence remained unyielding.
“Step now,” Moira instructed while steadying him. Each faltering step was a trial for them all.
“Yer strong, Brodie. Stronger than the oak,” Ailis added calmly.
Brodie stepped forward and slowly straightened up. As hard as simple tasks had become for him, he cherished the smallaccomplishments…like standing without his legs buckling under him.
Brodie’s knees trembled, muscles protesting with each step across the stone floor.
Moira steadied him with her grip. Ailis, her sister’s quiet counterpart, mirrored Moira’s support on his other side. Years of shared trials allowed them to communicate through subtle nods and glances.
“Ye can do this,” Moira murmured against their collective breath. She celebrated each one of his victories. He was becoming himself again before her eyes.
Exertion painted Brodie’s face with sweat, jaw tense as he fought pain with each stride. “Just a bit further,” Ailis coaxed, her lilt softening the room’s tension like a tribute to the land’s spirit.
Reaching the heavy oaken table, they paused for Brodie to rest. Ailis dabbed his forehead with a cloth while Moira breathed deeply nearby.
“Have ye heard?” Moira whispered to Ailis. “Clyde Stewart is trying to rally the last of the Clan Sinclair warriors?”
“Aye,” Ailis replied grimly, her green eyes darkening. “The whispers grow louder with each passing day. Clyde’s ambition knows no bounds.”
Moira’s grip tightened on the edge of the table, her knuckles whitening. “He seeks to unite the clans under his rule, no matter the cost. The very thought turns me stomach.”
Brodie, his breath evening out, fixed his gaze on the sisters. “We cannae let that happen. The Highlands must remain free, each clan master of its own fate. We serve only the queen.”
Ailis nodded, her dark hair catching the light filtering through the narrow windows. “The Stewarts’ treachery runs deep, like a poisoned well. We must be vigilant.”
“And prepared,” Moira added, her voice hardening with resolve. “Clyde will stop at nothing to achieve his twisted vision. We must be ready to meet him on the field of battle if necessary.”
Brodie pushed himself upright, his lean frame still unsteady but determination etched in every line. “I will not let my clan, my family, fall victim to Clyde’s machinations. I may be wounded, but my spirit remains unbroken.”
Ailis placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We stand with you, Brodie. Together, we will weather this storm and emerge stronger.”
Moira’s fierce gaze swept over them both. “Aye, we will. And when the time comes, we’ll show Clyde Stewart and his Sinclair lackeys what it means to face the wrath of the Highlands.” But in the back of her mind, she worried about the type of men who were still loyal to the Sinclairs. Was it possible that Stewart would gather an army full of murderers and Brigands? And if so, what would they be willing to do to serve Clyde Stewart?
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Moira strode over and opened it, revealing a clansman with a grave expression. “Urgent news from the border,” he said, his breath coming in short gasps. “Clyde Stewart’s forces have been spotted, and they’re heading this way.”
Moira’s eyes narrowed. “How many?”
“At least a hundred strong. They’ll be upon us by nightfall.”
Ailis and Brodie exchanged a worried glance. They were in no condition to fight, not with Brodie still recovering from his wounds.
Moira turned back to them, her expression resolute. “We have no choice. We must prepare for battle.”
Ailis nodded grimly. “I’ll gather the women and children, make sure they’re safe.”
