Chapter 23

Chapter 23

A few weeks later…

Jocelyn stood at the edge of the parapet, looking out over the lush green gardens that surrounded the McFerguson Keep. Water shimmered from the duck-filled pond, flowers bloomed in their season, and rows and rows of strong, long-lived trees decorated the world as far as the eye could see. To top it all off, the sky was a pinkish-purple haze as the sun rose, casting a brilliant glow over the whole world as it bid its morning greetings.

It was a truly beautiful sight; a stunning look into the land of her heart. But if Jocelyn was honest, the landscape was not where her attention lay. Instead, her eyes focused on the two figures walking toward the castle entrance in deep discussion; two men engrossed in a deep conversation, one with hair and clothes as black as the night that had just ended.

Jocelyn's heart constricted a little in her chest when Lachlan glanced up, and she ducked quickly behind the stone so that he wouldn't see her looking. It had been two weeks since she and her sisters had arrived at the refuge of James's castle—and a few weeks since Lachlan had deigned to say a word to her beyond a polite greeting or two if they happened to pass each other in the corridor. She'd gone to his sick bed a number of times while he was still in convalescence, but he had always turned her away. She'd hoped that perhaps, now that he was on his feet, they could finally talk—but the Wraith seemed determined to stay out of her sight, out of her life.

"Jocelyn? What are ye doin'?" a voice asked cheerfully.

Jocelyn started and spun, still half-crouched behind the wall, to see Aoife watching her with a small smirk on her face. "What? I?—"

"Havin' a wee look out over the land, are we?" Aoife asked, a teasing note to her voice. "It wouldnae be anythin' tae do with James returnin' from his walk with a certain escort, would it?"

Shooting her sister a brief scowl, Jocelyn straightened up. "Ye hush," she said, "And stop talkin' nonsense."

"Nonsense, is it?" Aoife asked, raising her eyebrows. She was glowing in the freedom of McFerguson Keep, her smile brighter than it had ever been in years—and with it, her playful spirit had risen to the surface. "If ye say so. Want one?"

She held out a bag of boiled sweets on which she was snacking, but Jocelyn waved them away.

"It's too early for sweets," she said, "Did ye even break yer fast yet?"

Aoife shrugged.

Sighing, Jocelyn asked, "What are ye doin' up here so early anyway? Dinnae tell me ye came to look out over the grounds."

"Only as much as ye did," Aoife retorted, though this time there was more gentleness to her teasing. "Actually, Blair asked me tae come find ye. They're startin' the meetin' soon, and both James and Blair want ye there. They want all of us there, actually."

The meeting. Jocelyn had almost forgotten about it. Things had been quiet since their arrival to the safety of the McFerguson lands. She and Lachlan had spent most of their time healing, and once Jocelyn was well, she and her sisters had joined in the efforts to at least temporarily relocate the survivors of the attack on Whisperer's Rest.

For now, many of the women and children were temporarily staying in empty soldiers' barracks or with families in the castle village. Jocelyn had tried to look for any sign of the woman and girl who had turned out to be Lachlan's mother and sister, but as of yet she'd not seen them anywhere. She supposed they must be staying with one of the other groups, and she wondered how Lachlan must feel about it.

The meeting now, though, was about a more solemn matter. James' council members had convened to discuss a letter that had arrived the week before—a letter sealed with Bram's mark, the corrupted symbol of Jocelyn's clan. Jocelyn had not seen the letter, but Blair had confided its contents to her, written in the precise, formal hand of a scribe.

McFerguson,

The attack upon your village of whores and whelps was only the beginning. You have had much time now in which you had the chance to return to me what is rightfully mine. The eldest sister may legally be your property now, but my younger cousins remain mine. Return them to me if you care to protect your clan and your people. If not, war will rain down upon you. Mark my words. Your punishment for refusal to cooperate will be swift and bloody, and the little witches will burn regardless.

If you return them to me, no further quarrel will exist between us. You have until first light on the last of the month to reply. Send a return note with my messenger. Let us avoid any further bloodshed.

I know you to be a sensible man. Tell me, what can the lives of a few hopeless, scheming women truly be worth?

In my name,

Bram McMillan, rightful Laird of the McMillan Clan.

According to Blair, James had penned the reply himself. He'd sent it back with the messenger immediately, and the consequences would soon befall them. Just one simple word that answered Bram's question in full:

Everything.

And now, as the first light now shone over the last day of the month, Jocelyn glanced out once more at the lush greenery of the McFerguson lands. Would it all be aflame soon, just as Whisperer's Rest had been? Could Jocelyn really say her life was worth all of that?

She looked to Aoife, sneakily popping another sweet into her mouth. She thought of Deirdre, spinning around happily the night before in a new dress Blair had gifted her. Of Blair, and James, and the children. And of Lachlan.

Yes. Their lives were worth everything indeed.

And Jocelyn would fight for them if she had to. Until her last breath.

To Jocelyn's surprise, she was positioned on Blair's left side as they sat around the council table, in the place of supreme importance that might normally be saved for another advisor. But Blair had insisted that Jocelyn take the place, and James had offered no arguments. The younger girls sat at the lower table with some of the other council members, while the five of them, James, Blair, Jocelyn, Lachlan, and an advisor whose name Jocelyn did not know, looked out over them, open to any and all suggestions.

"This is madness," one of the lesser advisors was saying as soon as it was his turn to speak. "Bram McMillan is unhinged. Ye ken what he's done tae his own people already. Hugh Nils is rottin' in a dungeon, poor old bastard, and probably he'll never see the light of day again."

Hugh . The news caused a twinge in Jocelyn's heart. She hadn't known the old man well, but he'd always been kind to her and her sisters whenever they happened to meet, offering them a smile or an encouraging word behind their uncle's back. Most likely, he'd openly disagreed with the attack on the village—he was known for a more peaceful approach—and Bram had responded by making him an example.

She shuddered. She remembered Bram as a child, cruel but still just a boy. Was he evil, even back then? Or had his life turned him into this? And did the answer matter, after all?

"All the more reason tae invade. Take his life before he takes ours," someone else said sharply. "And gut the spineless bastard where he stands."

"We wait for him tae attack!" someone else replied. "We're nae riskin' our men for this endeavor!"

"Me nephew died in Whisperer's Rest. His wife as well. Are we tae let it go unpunished?"

"I've made it clear that Bram will pay for what he did tae our people," James replied calmly, not responding to the heated, agitated atmosphere as he spoke. The power in his voice, the strength…it was easy to see why his people loved him as a leader, and why Blair loved him, too. "Our immediate concern is how we shall respond tae his open declaration of war. Realistically, are we in a position tae openly attack? Or is it better for our people tae remain here and defend? We've already lost farmland in the first attack. We cannot afford tae risk more or we threaten our own supplies."

"He attacked helpless innocents," someone growled. "He murdered peaceful villagers in their beds and burned their homes around them. Let's reply in kind. If he wishes tae slaughter our people, then let's slaughter his clanspeople in kind."

James looked angry and ready to object, but before he could, Blair spoke.

" Our clanspeople, ye mean. Mine and me sisters', and me sons' as well, in a way," Blair interrupted sharply. She got to her feet and her eyes were blazing. There was a strength and power in the way she spoke that matched her husband's, and Jocelyn was a little in awe. The Blair she'd known three years ago had grown into a strong, confident woman, and not just a Laird's wife, but a leader of men. "Usurped or nae, the clan is in our hearts. I will nae see my people murdered in cold blood. Are ye a monster, as well, tae suggest such a thing?"

The man flinched back under the power of Blair's stare. "I…forgive me, me Lady. I…wasnae thinkin' straight."

"Clearly," Blair replied. She placed her hands on the table and leaned forward. "Me dear fellows, this man is unhinged, and he owes ye—owes all of us—a blood price. But we are nae him. We will nae take the payment from innocents. We will fight tae defend what is ours."

"Beggin' yer eternal pardon, me Lady, but just how will we do such a thing?" the advisor at the head table asked. He hesitated, then said, "Bram is powerful, and he will nae hesitate tae throw innocent lives in the way as fodder, kennin' that ye will be hesitant tae kill them just tae get tae him."

James nodded somberly. "A fair point, well made, Millson. But the fact remains that war is comin' whether we wish for it or nae. It isnae a discussion of whether we will fight, but how?—"

"Nae necessarily," Millson interrupted. All eyes turned to him and he swallowed, but he pressed on. "Bram is powerful, aye, and unhinged too, maybe, but he's still a man. Men like him, they thrive on bein' given what they want."

Blair's face reddened in anger, and James sharply said, "Surely ye dinnae suggest givin' up me sisters-in-law?"

"Of course nae!" Millson interrupted hastily, with an apologetic look at Jocelyn and Blair. "What I mean is, we should find another way. Peace talks, the kind that make Bram think he is receivin' a concession. Surely there's somethin' we can offer, some price we can set, that will make him reconsider…"

"Nay."

The room fell silent, and Jocelyn felt it as everyone's attention focused on her, surprise evident on many faces. She was surprised, too; she hadn't intended to speak, but the word slipped out anyway. She searched the room, seeing her younger sisters clasping hands and watching her in amazement and worry, her older sister and James both gazing at her with open curiosity. And then she looked over to James's other side and saw Lachlan watching her too, meeting her eyes for the first time in weeks.

The world stood still.

And then Lachlan gave the tiniest of nods.

Sureness surged through Jocelyn, and she got to her feet, just as Blair had. Her hands shook, but she clasped them to stop anyone from seeing, and she began to speak, her voice projecting out over the room.

"There was a time that I longed for peace. Prayed for it, even," Jocelyn said. "Me whole life, as long as I can remember, all I wanted was for me sisters tae live freely, and me, too. We lost our father, our family, our clan, our home. We lost everything but each other. When me uncle died, we lost even the last shred of security that remained tae us, the only feeble protection that remained. Thrown tae Bram's mercy, I kenned that peace would nae come if we stayed put, and so we ran."

She swallowed, then continued.

"I didnae hope for much. All I wanted was tae see me sister again after three long years without her. I suddenly was thrust intae being the oldest, the one who took care of everyone, and all I wanted tae do was fulfill that task in Blair's stead. But still, I thought only of our freedom, of the lives that waited ahead of us. I didnae think we had much control of them, only that we had tae get here, tae Blair, tae safety. Maybe then, Bram wouldnae be able tae reach us. That's what I hoped."

Jocelyn looked over briefly and saw tears in Blair's eyes. She gave her sister a reassuring smile and continued.

"But I was deludin' meself, and me sisters as well. Ye see, there was never any peace on offer, nae when Bram had it in mind that he wanted us. Bram believes so strongly in the words of a prophecy he never heard for himself that he thinks he will never have peace until me sisters and I are cold and dead in the ground. And because he kens nay peace, neither did we. And neither would we, nay matter how far we ran."

She breathed out, heart racing now but her voice steady.

"I learned on me journey, though. I learned many things. But most importantly, most terrifyingly tae someone like Bram, I learned somethin' about the nature of destiny."

Jocelyn caught Lachlan's eyes again and saw him staring at her, his mouth slightly agape as if he could not believe what he was hearing.

"There is nay fate but what we make of it, me friends," Jocelyn told them, soft but clear enough that the whole room heard her. "Our destinies are our own tae take and shape, and we will nae surrender them tae the threats of a madman. Clan McFerguson deserves more than that, and so does Clan McMillan. We offered Bram peace, time and again, but he threw it in our faces. He attacked farmers. Women. Bairns. His men sought me life and the lives of me sisters over and over again. He took our clan. Our birthright. He will not rest until he has everythin'."

Jocelyn turned to James and Blair.

"And so I ask ye now, nae as a sister, but as a McMillan: What say ye, Laird and Lady McFerguson? Will ye allow Bram tae wield his stolen power and threaten yer people? Will McFerguson stand with us? If nae, I would never blame ye. Ye have me nephews tae protect, and a whole clan. But ken this, all of ye who hear me: I will fight, alone or with help. I dinnae ken exactly how, but I ken that I am done acceptin' a fate that I didnae choose. Bram can do what he likes. I'm ready for him. And I'll take me own destiny back, nay matter what."

She stopped, and for a moment her words were met with complete, solid silence. There wasn't a single sound at all, not even the scraping of a chair. Jocelyn's heart pounded, and for a moment she wondered if she really would have to do this alone.

And then Deirdre and Aoife were both on their feet, and several of the council rose with them, a thundering agreement echoing around the room. Roars of approval mashed with cheers and applause and a cacophony of support almost overwhelmed Jocelyn, and though she felt overwhelmed, she stood tall and listened.

Then Blair took her hand and said, "We'll crush him. If that's what it takes."

James nodded. "For Clan McFerguson," he called out across the room. "And Clan McMillan! Let Bram come if he wants and see what fate awaits him!"

His words were almost drowned out in the celebratory noises around them, and Jocelyn felt her knees buckle in relief. She sank into her chair, still gripping tightly to her older sister's hand. Fear was there too, fear for the unknown that war would bring, but it was drowned out by her certainty and resolve.

What was to come would not be easy. But she knew that she had spoken true. The threads of her fate were pulled tight, but they were not ready to be cut, not yet—and when they were, Bram would certainly have no part to play in her end. She had a whole life ahead of her, a birthright, and with her sisters, she would take it back.

"I'm so proud of ye," Blair whispered in her ear. The sisters embraced, and the younger two ran forward and joined the hug.

When Jocelyn surfaced from it, her eyes searched the room for one more person—just in time to catch the black-clad figure as he slipped out of the large chamber and away from the crowd.

Without a word, she extricated herself from her sisters and darted across the hall, not caring who saw or what they thought. "Lachlan," she called, "Lachlan!"

But when she reached the doorway through which he'd exited and threw it open, only an empty stone corridor awaited her. Several doors led off in several directions; there was no way of knowing exactly where he had disappeared to.

Once again, the Wraith had disappeared. This was a man who would not be found, and it was clear that, for now, he wished nothing more than to disappear.

Away from the celebrations and the revelry. Away from the determination and renewed vigor that the news had brought into the council room. Away from the nervous excitement that came with the news of an impending war against an evildoer who had slain innocents.

But Jocelyn knew that none of that was the main point.

Because Lachlan had disappeared away from her.