Chapter 21

Daemon didn't hesitate. As soon as he understood the lad's message, he was up and issuing orders. "Ryan, rouse the guards. Cai, alert the healer. Every man who can bear arms is tae gather and meet me at the gate." His own sword was in his chambers, and he cursed himself for not having worn it.

He'd been attacked only a few days ago. How could he have been so careless? He knew, as well as anyone, that attacks could come from any place, at any time.

He didn't run back to his chambers, but he came fairly close to it. Inside he wasted no time in grabbing up his fighting sword, his extra knives, and a leather and ring-mail vest that would serve as armor enough, or at least so he hoped. He ignored the helm, in favor of armored gauntlets that would shield his hands from anything save a direct cleaving blow, then raced from the room.

Cai, Ryan and a good number of soldiers were already waiting when he crossed into the courtyard. Daemon frowned, however, when he saw Alyn and Lyla waiting near the gate as well. He turned aside to speak to them. "What are ye doing here?"

"We're going with ye tae aid the village." Lyla spoke the words in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. "Alyn and I both have healer's kits tae help with injuries, and we can provide another set o' eyes and ears tae watch over the children, and any women who need help."

"Ye're nae going." The words were out of Daemon's mouth before he had a chance to think about them. "Stay here where ‘tis safe."

Lyla's eyes flashed. "We can help with the injured, instead o' ye having tae send warriors tae bring them tae yer healer."

"'Tis too dangerous."

"We'll be with ye and yer warriors. Surely we'll be safe enough."

Daemon felt his jaw clench. "Dinnae test me woman. Yer faither charged me tae keep ye safe."

"And where safer than by yer side?" Lyla tossed her head. "Ye speak o' testing, but ye should remember I'm a laird's daughter and a guest, nae one o' yer clanfolk tae be ordered about."

"I willnae be challenged in me own home." Daemon snarled the words.

"Then stand aside, and I'll leave it, fer I'll nae stay behind when there's folk tae tend, who might need the touch o' a healer rather than the sword o' a warrior." With that, Lyla side-stepped Daemon and Cai both, and walked out the gate.

Daemon growled under his breath, then hastened after her and barred her path with one arm. "Dinnae be so rash." Lyla glared at him. Daemon huffed in exasperation. The village was under attack, and they were wasting time arguing. "Fine. But dinnae leave me sight, or I'll have ye hog-tied and carried back." He glared at his cousin, who had followed. "Both o' ye."

"Fair enough." Lyla nodded, and stepped back into the protective circle of the soldiers. Daemon felt a moment of concern at the cool, closed-off expression on her face, but he had no time to ponder it. He could hear the shouting from the village, and see smoke rising.

"Let's go."

* * *

Lyla followed the warriors toward the village, her hands clenched on her bag, and her mind whirling with a mix of concern, anger, and fear. The fear and concern were both in regard to the village, and what sort of attack they might be facing. The anger, on the other hand, was directed solely at Daemon.

He'd treated her like a helpless damsel, like a child. She knew how to defend herself now, at least a little, and it wasn't as if she was foolish enough to go wandering off without thinking. Whether he'd intended it or not, his words and his behavior had made her feel as if he still saw her as the foolish child he'd barely tolerated for years.

They arrived at the village, and they hadn't gone more than ten steps when Lyla spotted a man bleeding from a slashed arm, and a wound on the temple that looked as if he'd been hit by a club or something. "Daemon."

Daemon nodded. "Cai, stay with Lyla. Ryan, watch over Alyn." The two men nodded, and Lyla hurried over to the man, while Alyn continued on with Daemon's party.

The wound to the arm was deep and long, but not so much that there was any risk of the man losing use of his limb. The head wound was more troubling, because she couldn't be sure he hadn't rattled his skull, but his eyes were clear and his speech was unimpaired, save for the pain that filtered through it. Lyla kept him talking while she tended the wound, as much to gain information as to distract him and make sure he remained conscious.

"We were preparing tae go tae the tavern, fer an evening pint, afore we all went home fer supper. ‘Tis a common practice, fer the menfolk. Looked like two dozen men came out o' nowhere, set upon everyone they could see." The man grimaced as Lyla stitched the cut. "Didnae see that anyone died, but then, I fled. I ken Thatcher's son got away clean... did he get tae the laird?"

"Aye." Cai spoke up before Lyla could. She was grateful for that, as she had no idea if the lad who'd delivered the warning was the Thatcher boy or not. "He made it. Laird MacMillan left him tae rest and get some food and drink intae him."

"Good. Donnie's a good lad." The man hissed again as Lyla pulled the last stitch through. She sealed the wound with a healing salve, then wrapped it.

After that, she tended to his head. The bruise looked bad, but the cut was shallow, for all it had bled enough to stain his collar crimson. Lyla applied more healing salve and bandage there as well. "Keep the bandages clean and dry fer at least a day, and dinnae drink more than one cup o' ale or mead every two tae three candle-marks, until the headache fades." She handed him a packet of herbs. "Mix a pinch o' these intae hot water tae make a tea, and drink that if the pain gets tae be tae much fer ye. Three pinches if ye want tae sleep."

"As ye say, me lady." Cai helped the man to his feet, and guided him to his house.

They continued on toward the tavern the villager had mentioned, stopping here and there to tend to the wounded, who were appearing from houses, now that Daemon and his men had driven the attackers away. Cai suggested having them gather at the tavern, instead of making rounds, so Lyla joined Alyn in the main room.

There were slashes and bruises aplenty, and six men with broken bones, including a man with cracked ribs that Alyn suggested be sent to the healer at MacMillan Keep for observation. Two others had broken arms, and one a fractured jaw where one of the attackers had hit him in the face with a metal-rimmed shield. The last two were broken fingers that were easy enough to straighten and splint.

Most of the cuts were light slashes, rather than deep cuts or stabs. A few more needed stitching, and one man bluntly insisted on getting the wound sealed with a hot iron, as he didn't want to worry with the stitching. Ryan took care of that one.

By the time they were done, Lyla was exhausted, and she'd run out of bandages twice, to be supplied with more by some of the village women. Her stock of healing herbs was almost completely emptied, and Alyn had already sent back to the keep for more for herself.

Lyla finished tending to the last, a young man who needed his knee wrapped, then rose to her feet. "I'm going tae get some air."

Daemon stepped forward. "I'll accompany ye."

Lyla felt a flash of irritation, but she understood his reasoning. She was far too tired to properly protect herself and, in any case, she had promised to heed his words and allow him to protect her. She nodded, and waited for Daemon to join her by the door before she stepped out into the cool evening air.

They walked in quiet for a little while, before Daemon broke the silence. "Ye and Alyn did good work."

It was on the tip of her tongue to make a sharp remark about how he didn't want them to come, but she was too weary to fight with him. Besides, she understood that a laird needed to be respected, and she wasn't about to undermine him in front of the people of the village, no matter how she might have argued earlier.

She settled for a small shrug. "We were fortunate. Very few o' the injuries were dangerous tae life or limb, and nae any were beyond treating."

"Aye. I'd noticed. There's plenty o' wounded, and more who are scared, but there are nae any dead. I'm glad fer it but concerned all the same." Daemon's voice was heavy.

Lyla frowned and turned to face him. "Why concerned?"

"Because I think it was intentional. I think the men who attacked the village wanted tae cause fear, but nae deaths. It was a warning, left by someone who wanted me tae take heed, but didnae want tae give cause fer blood feud." Daemon scowled.

Lyla felt her breath catch. "Ye think Ranald…?"

"I've precious few others I'd consider fool enough tae dae such a thing, and even fewer still that I've any disagreement with. I havenae answered MacLachlan yet, so it cannae be him, and even if I had, Laird MacLachlan is too canny tae dae something so foolish, even if we were on poor terms, which we're nae – nae at the moment, at least."

Lyla nodded. They stood in silence for a few moments, then Daemon reached out and cupped her chin. Lyla stiffened as his mouth claimed hers in a gentle kiss, before Daemon stepped back. "We should return tae the keep. We can talk later."

Tired, and still more than a little irritated with him, Lyla agreed, then went inside to find Alyn and the men.

She wanted a rest, and some food. And she and Daemon needed to have a talk. As she gathered her supplies and began the trek back to the keep, Lyla made a decision.

They'd talk, but she was going to control the time and place. If they were ever going to have any sort of future with one another, Daemon needed to realize that she was a grown woman, and not someone he could control like a servant or a child.

He might be the laird, but she was a laird's daughter who'd grown up taking care of herself and had been taking over the Castellan duties ever since Rowan had married and Erin had begun training as a warrior. She wasn't going to let anyone, not even the so-called ‘devil's servant', treat her as rudely as Daemon had.

She spent the rest of the walk planning.