“Empty,” Flora said aloud, completing his thoughts. “There is nay one here.”
“Campbell! Come out! Show yerself, ye coward.”
Despite Liam's taunts, the man didn't appear. No one did.
They stood in the hall for a few moments longer, waiting for something to happen. Anything, really, would have been sign enough for Seamus. But there was nothing. At least, not until some of the rebels came racing in.
“The others have the courtyard well in hand. What would ye have us do?”
He recognized Flora's uncle speaking. It was a question that might have been meant for Seamus, but it was Liam who answered.
“Search the entire castle. Move in groups. Dinnae stop until every room, every tower, every closet has been searched. I want to ken that every inch of this place has been turned upside down. Campbell is here and we will find him.”
Following orders, the room emptied quickly. He could hear men running down the hallways, climbing the stairs. Every so often, someone would let out a shout for Campbell, calling for the man. But Seamus already knew that they wouldn't find him.
“What are ye doing?” Flora asked, her question laced with concern.
“My great-grandfather built this chair himself. He was a bit of a carpenter in his leisure time, though I am told one does nae have much free time as Laird. Still, he spent weeks building it.”
Flora moved to stand beside him. Her eyes shifted from studying him to studying the throne-like chair that sat on a small dais at the front of the room.
“I remember seeing my father sit in it when I was a lad. He looked so large, so impressive. He caught me staring during afeast one night and pulled me into his lap. He told me, ‘Son, one day ye will be in my seat, watching over this clan. Ye must promise me that ye will always do what is right for them. That is what it means to sit here. It is nae an untouchable pedestal that makes us better than them. It is our way of making sure that everyone can see us, and that everyone has access to us. We are telling them that should they ever need us, we will be there to help them.’ I asked him when I would be allowed to sit there. Do ye ken what he said?”
He looked at Flora, her face downtrodden despite the great victory they just had. She shook her head in silence.
“‘Once ye can fill the seat, then it will be yers.’” He paused, looking longingly at the Murray crest that was carved into the headrest. “I am starting to doubt that I will ever sit in it.”
“Seamus, dinnae speak this way. Why would ye say such a thing?”
“We have searched everywhere, Seamus. We cannae find Campbell. He is gone.”
Seamus sent Flora a pointed look as if to say, “This is why,” before turning back to Liam, Errik, who had just arrived with some more rebels.
“I suspect we will find that the majority of his army is gone as well.”
“Aye.”
“Though,” Liam added to Errik's gruff response, “we have been able to overtake those who were left behind. Any guard still alive has been imprisoned and taken to the dungeons. Murray Castle is well and truly ours.”
“But Campbell is gone. And we dinnae ken where he went.”
“Nay.”
Seamus sighed through his nose, his eyes pinched shut, before he spoke again.
“I need a moment.”
He moved to step out of the hall, leaving it all behind him. While he had no intention of going anywhere in particular, he just knew he had to get out of there.
“Seamus!” Flora's distant voice called after him.
“Let him go.”
Grateful for Errik's intervention, Seamus wandered down the halls. Overwhelmed with emotion, he let his feet lead the way.
He had failed, plain and simple. Campbell had tricked him, once again. Indeed, Seamus had been made to look like a complete and utter fool. All this time, Seamus had been so certain that they had the upper hand, that their plan was a good one. He had felt so confident in knowing that Campbell would have needed to convalesce, that he would have stayed within the safety of the castle walls. And all this time, Seamus had been completely, wholly, unmistakably wrong.
Stumbling into a room, Seamus shut the door behind him, enclosing himself in the dark. He fumbled around for a candlestick or a lantern, or even some curtains to draw back. A small sliver of light passed through a crack in some curtains that hung on the wall opposite him. Without giving it much thought, he walked through the room and pulled them open, letting the daylight pour in.
It wasn't until he turned around that he realized why he hadn't stumbled over anything as he walked through the room in the dark. His feet had taken him to a room he was intimately familiar with; his mother's favorite parlor.
On the table, there was a stack of books still open to whatever lesson Seamus had been working on. Some of his toy soldiers were still scattered on the floor, where he had liked to play at his mother's feet. Of course, they were all coated with dust. No one had been inside this room after Campbell's invasion. All of his mother's maids who would have seen to it had gone with her to Clan MacKenzie, and Seamus had been too engulfed in grief toventure here. If his father had made the trip, he hadn't touched anything, likely wanting to leave it as it was in case she ever returned. It was a small mercy that Campbell never cared about the room's existence, or he would have surely destroyed it.
Moving to the couch, Seamus sat. The movement sent a cloud of dust into the air, along with the slightest whiff of a familiar scent. He couldn't bear it any longer. Defeated, Seamus collapsed onto the sofa and buried his head.
