5
A CHANGE OF PLANS
“Make sure ye brush them all verra well. And see to their shoes. If any of them show the smallest problem, replace it with another. We will be riding hard and fast for several days. I cannae afford to have a horse go lame.”
Finn crossed his arms over his chest as he gave the orders to the grooms. Some part of him knew that his presence in the Drummond Castle stables only served as a distraction, but he was so restless that the thought of staying inside for another moment had him ready to rip his hair out.
He hadn't slept since Brid was taken by Connor. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he hadn't been able to sleep long before that. Visions of the inside of the Murray Castle dungeon and the battle in the Lost Valley haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was a sword being rammed into Rolland's chest, blood pouring from the older man's mouth.
Chief Rolland had been the father that Finn had lost a lifetime ago, the father Finn always wanted. And now, the man was dead all because of Seamus and his inability to do anything right.
He knew that Flora and Brid were expecting him to go to Aberfeldy Village, to attend the meeting Seamus was hosting to try to gather recruits and position them for battle. But after everything that happened at the monastery, after Connor snuck Brid out of the castle out from under Finn's nose, he didn't see how anyone could think he would ever trust a Murray. Though the meeting was still days away, he had made his mind up not to go almost as soon as they had left the monastery. He had yet to share any of his plans with the others, however.
Finn began to wonder how Chief Rolland had ever managed to lead the Lost Valley. With no one to trust, no one to turn to for help, Finn felt nearly immobile from the weight of things. Yet, the Chief had managed to lead the village with ease.
“Aye, but he only had to face Campbell once,” Finn muttered to himself. “He spent years in hiding, without ever truly pursuing change.”
“Did ye say something, sir?”
Finn looked up at the stable boy from underneath his eyelashes, not bothering to so much as lift his head to answer to the boy.
“Why? Are ye particularly interested in my thoughts? Are ye hoping to catch a snippet of my plans so ye can report them to Campbell? Or Seamus?”
The boy blinked in shock and disbelief.
“N-nay, sir. I j-just thought I heard ye say something.”
Finn picked up his chin then, moving until he was close enough to the boy that he had to look down his nose at him. He watched as the boy swallowed hard, his eyes darting from one side of the room to the next, but no one dared to step in on the boy's behalf.
“Ye should be more focused on doing yer job than fretting over what I am doing.”
The words landed in a spat just as Finn turned his head to inspect the horse. He took a hand and ran it over the side and down the flank of the beast, inspecting the boy's work.
“Look at this!” Finn nearly shouted. “I told ye to do yer best work. I told all of ye how important it was that these horses are well maintained if we are to succeed at the task ahead of us. And yet, ye have missed this spot entirely. I doubt ye cleaned his shoes or bothered to brush out his mane before ye braided it.”
“I-I did, si-sir,” the boy stammered, irritating Finn all the more.
“I dinnae believe ye. Give me the brush, I will do it myself.”
Finn held out his hand and took the brush with a jerk. He knew that the other groomsmen were watching, but he didn't care. Dismissing the boy with a wave of his hand, he set about preparing his horse himself.
“Cannae trust anyone,” he muttered as he worked the brush over his horse's coat.
For a time, Finn lost himself in his task. He let the work of his fingers, brushing and braiding, soothe his clouded mind. It was a reprieve from the constant buzz in his head, demanding that he track Campbell down to exact his revenge. For a moment, he wasn't thinking about his plans or how he would convince the others to do his bidding. For a moment, he could pretend that he was that same boy he had once been, fighting and frolicking in the glen with Flora. But the moment never lasted long before it was interrupted. Sometimes by his own thoughts and memories, sometimes of someone else, as it was now.
“Sir,” a young rebel greeted with the seriousness of untried youth, “I am sorry to interrupt?—”
“Then dinnae.”
A beat of silence was followed by the shuffling of feet. Finn sighed and tied off the end of the braided tail before looking at the man.
“What is it?” Finn demanded, though his words lacked the same bite he had had minutes earlier.
The boy cleared his throat and clasped his hands together behind his back, straightening to his full height.
“The rest of the fighters have gathered, as ye requested. They are all awaiting ye to join them in the war room.”
Finn didn't deign to respond as he stomped off towards the castle. It was a meeting he had been putting off until the last possible moment. He knew that they would not like what he had to say. He knew they would argue and push back against his plans, but he also knew that this was the only way forward.
