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“I know all of this,” I charge. “Even still, we are one. We must find common ground or risk being made weaker against Meria.”

Warin smiles. “Spoken like a Moray. But this time, I fear things are different. The Borderers are not alone in their thirst for war. After the failed attack of the Oryan, some of the Highland lords are calling for war too.”

I know they are the enemy, but still I cannot help but feel for the men who sank with that ship. One moment, they rode atop the water, safe and secure, and the next they were being pulled into it, compelled by a force so strong that it felled two hundred of Meria’s best warriors.

Just like it did my poor, innocent, Fara.

“Reyne?”

My pace had slowed, my mind caught up in its dark, cycling thoughts.

“Apologies,” I say. “So what does all of this mean? Who is the ‘he’ they spoke of?”

“I’m uncertain. But the page reported something quite interesting.”

We’re approaching the lists now, and I see Father in the distance, practicing for one of the events he has chosen to enter this year. Though he no longer participates in the melee, he still can toss a poleaxe farther than anyone and is preparing to show as much.

What will he say to Erik about this eve?

But I force myself to ask a different question of my brother. “What did he report?”

My brother does not slow down, prompting odd looks from those closest to us.

“Rawlins told him, ‘The time has come. Another Saitford is necessary.’”

Allowing Warin to rush toward our father, I stop completely.

Another Saitford.

The attack that saw half a village slaughtered, women and children among them.

None know who did it, just that the perpetrators were seen crossing the border back to Edingham. Some said the Borderers were responsible. Others blamed the queen herself. Still other rumors named the Shadow Warriors, as they are the only force of men known for their ability to blend into the landscape, unseen, and those who attacked the village of Saitford disappeared.

It was that attack that prompted King Galfrid to send a ship full of men to our shores.

Another Saitford?

I watch as Warin reaches my father. What plot has my brother stumbled on? And who was coming here, to Ledenhill, on the morning of the melee? And then there was Warin’s peculiar behavior before we witnessed the conversation. He’s only professed his love to me a handful of times before. Why now?

What did it all mean?

If such intrigue is customary at the Tournament of Loigh, it is no wonder my father nearly missed my sister’s birth to attend it.

9

Erik

I navigate the sea of tents, proof that I’m not the only one who failed to take our host up on his offer to stay within the castle walls. Normally, such an offer would be welcome at a tournament. Men like Moray would be staying inside Ledenhill Castle too. But this tourney is different, its purpose to solidify the unofficial Highland oath, that the Mountain Men, as they were called years ago, swear allegiance first and foremost to each other. It is an opportunity to reconnect. To strengthen allegiances. Those who stay within the castle walls were met with suspicion.

I round the corner and ride toward Moray’s tents. He and Warin sit around a fire with at least six other men. But there’s no sign of Reyne.

Before I can approach, Warin stands and rushes toward me. At first, I think he means to revoke his permission for me to escort Reyne tonight. Something I’ve looked forward to all day. But something else flashes in his eyes.

“I’d speak to you before you leave.”

He pulls me off to the side even as I make eye contact with Moray, who does not appear to be dressed for the feast.

“Do you know a man by the name of Edward Kyle?”