“I ken,” Iain agreed at once. “And fer what it’s worth, I wouldnae either. But the Council sees only outcomes. They remember what MacKenzie did years ago. They remember fire and blood and loss. They fear he will try again, and they fear ye will face him alone.”
Duncan’s gaze drifted back to the window, to the training yard where his men moved through their drills with practiced discipline.
“I am nae alone,” he said quietly.
“Nay,” Iain agreed. “But fear has a way of narrowing vision. Tae them, a marriage alliance is something they can see, something they can measure. It makes their unease easier tae bear.”
Duncan was silent for a long moment, his thoughts moving along familiar, dangerous paths. “They may understand their fear, but they will have tae learn patience.”
Iain studied him, then nodded once. “Then I will make certain they dinnae push too far, too fast. But ye should be prepared. MacKenzie will be used as their argument again and again.”
Duncan turned back to him, feeling his resolve steady and unshaken. “They can discuss whatever they damn well want, but I will decide when there is something worth deciding.”
Iain’s mouth curved proudly. “That is exactly why they follow ye.” He walked over to Duncan and patted him on the shoulder. “Rest now. It is late and ye’ve probably nae slept properly.”
Duncan let out a quiet huff. “Rest is a luxury fer men without responsibilities.”
“Aye,” Iain chuckled. “I remember that speech. Ye gave it at sixteen, right before collapsing in the training yard.”
“That was exhaustion,” Duncan replied. “Entirely different.”
Iain laughed under his breath again. “Being laird has taught ye many things. Chief among them, apparently, is how tae convince yerself ye dinnae need sleep.”
“Someone has tae keep the clan from falling apart while everyone else dreams peacefully,” Duncan said, already turning back toward his writing table.
“And someone has tae remind ye that ye are nae indestructible,” Iain countered. “That’s me particular burden.”
Duncan glanced over his shoulder, and there was a faint smile touching his mouth. “Ye wear it well.”
Iain shook his head, fond exasperation plain on his face. “Very well. Drown yerself in ledgers and maps if ye must. But dinnae forget, nay laird ever protected his people by working himself intae the ground.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Duncan said lightly.
Iain moved toward the door, pausing only once. “I’ll have the watches doubled.”
“I expected naething less.”
With that, Iain left the study. Silence crept back into the chamber, thick and suffocating. There was no one to break the painfully slow turning of his mind. Duncan remained where he was, alone once more with stone walls, flickering candlelight, and far too many things demanding his attention.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Morning crept in reluctantly, with pale light slipping through the narrow window and settling across the stone floor. Elaina woke with a sharp intake of breath. Her body felt tense as though it had not truly rested at all.
She was lying still, staring up at the ceiling. The echoes of fractured dreams lingered like smoke: faces without form, hands reaching, a voice she refused to name.
Nightmares, it seemed, had followed her there just as faithfully as fear had.
I hoped I might find peace here.
She pushed herself upright, rubbing her temples. Her throat felt dry and her limbs heavy, as though she had spent the night running rather than resting. She could not remember whethershe had spoken in her sleep, whether she had cried out, but the possibility alone made her stomach tighten.
Perhaps there was something she could prepare, a draught to still the mind. Valerian, maybe, or lemon balm, if she could find it. She needed something to keep her tongue from betraying her when her will could not. The night terrors had followed her even after she’d fled her father’s castle, and she could see now that distance alone was not enough to silence them.
With a quiet sigh, she rose and dressed, smoothing her hair into a loose braid, more out of habit than vanity. When she opened the door and stepped into the corridor, she stopped short.
A guard was standing directly outside her chamber.
He straightened at once when he saw her, and his hand shifted toward his belt. She doubted he did it threateningly, but rather out of a practiced reflex. He was young, broad-shouldered and clad in Grant colors.
