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“And yet you think I, a woman he met a fortnight ago, might have more influence?”

“I do,” Oriana said, obviously believing it. “I know not your circumstances. Where or to which parents you were born. If you are truly English or perhaps Scottish. I know only my brother cares deeply for you, and speaking to you now, that you feel the same way for him. My own parents overcame great odds to be together, and theirs is a love that not only endures but is a beacon for our entire clan. ’Tis said you arrived to Brockburg wearing Galien’s plaid?”

Oriana’s abrupt change in topics startled her. How did she know so much already?

“I had no gown,” she explained. “We were forced to hide when fleeing Anbarth, and the wet, heavy velvet was not practical as a riding gown.”

“Whatever the circumstances, I do believe ’twas a sign, Reina. You belong here. With my brother.” She smiled. “With my clan.”

Reina would deny it. Tell her that nay, she did not belong here. Or anywhere, really. That she never quite did belong and being at Brockburg was no different than Anbarth. And yet, she could not say the words aloud and mean them. Not truly.

Because, even before they arrived, she felt it. Perhaps it was with Rory, hearing about the passage, the alliance between their families. Or maybe before that, listening to Galien speak of his clan. But it was there, no doubt.

This sense that she’d come home.

Reina had just not wanted to admit it. Because she knew one thing Oriana did not. Galien would not rescind his pledge to Wallace for her. Or for anyone.

Would it get him killed?

Aye. Very likely.

But that knowledge had not stopped him from marching into England to accompany a man with more of a target on him than any other on this isle. Nor would it stop him from rejoining Wallace’s fight after Reina had been cared for. But she could not dash the hope in her new friend’s eyes. Instead, she smiled at Oriana.

Said nothing.

And ignored the pain in her chest at the thought of meeting this alewife, possibly learning something about her past. Because once she discovered the answers she sought, it would be time for Reina to reconcile what she’d done.

“Come.” Oriana stood, breaking Reina out of her reverie. “First, we should speak to Agnus. You’ve risked much for any answers she may have and are eager to learn them, I am sure.”

She stood as well, looked up to the Carnwood Mountains, much steeper than any she’d seen before. More beautiful too, aye. But Reina could not fathom what it must be to climb them, or if such a thing were even possible.

“I am ready,” she said, the words nearly sticking in her mouth. In truth, Reina was not ready at all.

28

Galien lifted his sword.

The strike was hard and fast. Punishing and unrelenting. His Uncle Alex, the man responsible for the training of all Clan Kerr warriors, was not so free with the knowledge of the direction he’d next strike as Galien’s father, leaving him guessing more often than he was not.

Galien had agreed to this training session as a way to rid his mind of Reina, if for a few moments, knowing she was well cared for by his sister. He learned from the stable master they’d gone into the village, likely to visit with Agnus.

So of course, he could think of nothing else, despite his intentions.

What was Oriana saying to her? And Reina, in response? Had they yet arrived at the village? Would Agnus know anything more to shed light on Reina’s past? If she did—

“Distractions will get you killed,” Alex said, striking his sword.

Galien held it back, but barely.

“Precisely,” he said, retreating, waiting, and then attacking. But his uncle deflected Galien’s strike easily.

“Your father told me quite a tale,” Alex said, continuing to strike and retreat. The clang of their swords rang out in the dense woods well below the castle walls. An unusual training ground, but one their family had used well before he’d been born, according to his father.

“Oriana was not pleased,” he admitted. “Thank you for escorting her.”

They were silent as their swords continued to meet. Since his uncle had trained him well, Galien was able to hold his own. When he was young, Galien made the mistake of thinking his age would tire his uncle eventually, giving him an advantage. He no longer believed as such now. Still, Galien bided his time, waiting for an opportunity to gain the upper hand.

“She’d have come, in the dead of night, on her own,” his uncle said finally. “Ava wished to join us, but one lass was plenty for our midnight journey.”