24
The dawn came faster than he was ready for and with it, a battle that he couldn’t avoid. His fields were filled with enemy soldiers, their swords glinting in the morning light. All missives they sent to the Lairds across the battlefield to meet before the fighting broke out went ignored. He had no choice but to strap on his father’s helmet and climb into his saddle.
It was an astounding sight that Cameron hardly knew what to do with. All of his own men were armed and waiting for Alastair’s signal. His advisor sat atop his own horse to Cameron’s right, but everyone there knew that Alastair was truly the one leading their efforts. Cameron would be lucky to survive the day. Of course, he knew how to wield a sword and stay in his saddle, but that was nothing compared to the years of training every other solider on the field had. The only mercy he had was that his father’s helmet covered his face, letting him hide just how terrified he was.
“They were able to get closer than I anticipated,” Alastair told him. “We will have to fight them here or risk them invading the castle.”
“Are the nearby villages cleared out?”
“Aye. We spent half of the night making sure that all of the women and children were tucked far enough away that they would nae bear any risks.”
“That is all I care about,” Cameron answered, his voice steadier than he felt.
It was a lie, but one that Alastair did not fight him on, not even when Cameron twisted in his seat to look back at the castle.
Charlotte was inside those stone walls with the gates up and the doors bared. She had insisted on waking with him and settling him into his armor, but that was as far as he would allow her to go. She needed him to survive, but he needed to know that she was safe and far enough away from the fighting. He tried to tell himself that this enemy was her father. She wasn’t in any true danger no matter which way things went, but knowing she was there made him feel a little better.
His eyes scanned the windows and towers, hoping to catch one last glimpse of her. He didn’t want her to watch such carnage, but he doubted there was anything he could say or do to stop her. In one of the tower windows, the glimmer of her auburn hair caught his attention. It looked almost like spun gold in the light. Had it been any other occasion, he would have swooned at how beautiful she looked. He would have let himself marvel that such a woman could ever grow to care for a man like him. But today did not afford him that luxury.
After a lifetime of longing for a place to call home, he finally found that. Not in a building but in Charlotte. He had somewhere he belonged, someone to share his happiness with. And it was all being ripped away from him, not because of anything he did, but because of who his father was.
Cameron tore his gaze away from where Charlotte was watching in the tower. He knew that if he watched her for much longer, he wouldn’t have the stomach to face this fight. And as it was, the sound of the enemy’s horsebeats was growing louder and louder.
He looked to Alastair who had his eyes trained ahead, no hint of emotion in them. This wasn’t the first time the old man had ridden into battle for the Knox clan, but it may very well be the last time.
“Here they come,” Alastair warned, pulling his sword out of its sheath.
With a swift point of the weapon, the soldiers in front of them let out a mighty roar and charged towards their enemies. Cameron followed suit, his nerves threatening to overtake him and cough up the breakfast he had forced himself to eat that morning. Alastair stayed by his side, though they both knew that Cameron had little chance of walking away from this battlefield.
They crested the top of the hill only to be greeted by an army that was easily three times the size of theirs. Any hope Cameron might have had to see Charlotte again vanished. He sent up a silent prayer for her to be taken care of as he rode through the crowd, making his way to the front of the line.
He watched carefully as the other Lairds did the same, pushing out from among their soldiers. They had ignored all written requests to speak, but they could not deny him that opportunity in front of everyone. The only chance he would have at convincing them to walk away from this fight would be in the middle of the field. And he had to do it now.
Cameron looked to Alastair to make sure that his advisor was riding out to the middle with him. Their eyes met and Cameron’s mind whirled back to the conversation they had yesterday morning.
* * *
“Ye needto ken that this war is going to cost many lives. Perhaps even our own.”
Cameron’s jaw clenched. It was such blatant truth that he could do nothing but accept it, no matter how much he wanted to change things.
“I ken but I dinnae see any other way around this,” he answered, his chest growing tight the more he thought about it.
“Nor do I, lad. Nor do I.”
They sat in silence for a moment, but Cameron’s thoughts were eating away at him. He had been under so much pressure to make his time as a Laird successful. A few months in and he had already failed miserably. He told Alastair as much.
“I ken that ye came to me thinking that I was the best fit to be Laird, to take over after my father and to undo the damage he did, but I cannae help but think ye were sorely mistaken.”
“Cameron, I—”
“I wanted to do it,” Cameron continued, cutting Alastair off. “I wanted to be a good Laird. I wanted to help the clan rebuild after decades of turmoil and poverty. I wanted to protect my people and their children. I wanted to show them what life could be like living under a Laird who was nae driven mad by greed.”
“I ken ye did. That is why I thought ye were best for the role, Cameron.”
Cameron shook his head, frustrated by Alastair’s rebuttal. The man didn’t understand the position Cameron was in. He didn’t understand what it felt like to fail so miserably so quickly. How could he? Alastair had been an advisor to the Laird for decades. In fact, he was the only one who had managed to escape his father’s tyrannical rule. He was the only one to keep his job when so many others had been exiled or executed. Alastair didn’t understand failure the way Cameron did.
Unable to sit still any longer, Cameron pushed up from behind his desk and started pacing the length of the study. He wondered how many times his father had done the same thing, how many times in his own paranoid panic, his father had yelled at his advisors. Cameron hated to think that he was alike his father in any way, but the image was so clear in his mind that he couldn’t pretend otherwise.
