Chapter 25

25

T he ancient stones of the castle seemed to echo with urgency as Magnus Black ascended the spiral staircase two steps at a time, his heart hammering against his chest with his haste to return to his siblings. Erin's soft breaths were the only sound in stark contrast to his racing pulse, her presence a constant reminder of her position right behind him.

"Scarlett!" he barked, almost colliding with his fiery-haired sister who appeared suddenly from the shadows of the dimly lit corridor.

"Brother," Scarlett began, her expression grave, eyes wide with unspoken dread. "Thank the lord ye are returned."

Magnus needed no words to sense the dire news she might carry, and a cold shiver of fear ran down his spine. He imagined the worst—that death had claimed his brother while he recovered Erin. The possibility of Hayden's death was a wound too raw, an outcome too bleak to face.

"Outta me way," he growled, brushing past her without waiting for the explanation he feared would steal the last remnants of his resolve.

"Wait, Magnus—" Scarlett's voice trailed off as he thundered up the remaining stairs.

The healing room's door flew open under the force of his entry, the heavy oak nearly splintering against stone walls. Magnus's gaze swept the chamber, frantic until it landed on the disheveled form propped amidst a sea of cushions.

"Hayden," he exhaled the name like a prayer of thanks to the saints.

His younger brother's chest rose and fell with soft breaths, his head swathed in bandages that did little to tame his unruly locks. Those same locks now stuck up in every direction, as if protesting the very idea of being restrained. Hayden's eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, but alive.

"Big brother," Hayden slurred, a ghost of his usual charm curling the edges of his words.

"Save yer strength, lad," Magnus replied, the roughness in his voice betraying his relief.

"Is she well? Tell me, Magnus," Hayden's voice cracked, each word laced with urgency. "Is Erin well?"

"Erin is safe," Magnus intoned once more, his voice a granite promise in the dimly-lit chamber. Yet, it was clear Hayden's restlessness would not subside on words alone.

The door creaked open and Scarlett's fiery hair heralded her entrance like a beacon cutting through the gloom. Close behind her, Erin's silhouette appeared—composure etched into her posture, yet the subtle tremor in her step betrayed her concern.

"He is awake, Erin, come see Hayden is awake," he called joyfully. "See, Hayden. Here she is, quite well."

"I see," Erin smiled as she entered. "It is good to see ye awake, brother."

"I was tryin' to get word to ye," Scarlett muttered. "I would have told ye, had ye given me a breath."

"How are ye feelin'?" Erin questioned.

Magnus stood beside his brother's bed, allowing Erin to sit on the small stool that he didn't really think strong enough for his weight.

"I think…" Hayden began. "I think I am well. Scarlett told me nothin'. She just screamed and ran, but the healer said I would be fine."

"Ye are too stubborn nae to be." Magnus laughed.

"Well, that I learned from ye." Hayden bantered back, a flicker of his former self returning.

"I only left ye because ye wouldnae stop askin' for Erin," Scarlett huffed.

"Aye, and now I see her," Hayden nodded. "Now tell me why me cut belly hurts me head so much?"

"What do ye remember?" Magnus questioned

"I remember…?" Hayden's eyes move to Erin. "Erin, do ye swear ye are well? Are ye well?"

"I am fine, I swear." Erin reached forward and took his hand, squeezing tightly.

Magnus watched as Hayden's eyes, clouded with pain and confusion, sought out confirmation of Erin's safety. Despite the reassurance that fell from Magnus's lips, his brother's worry remained untamed, a wild creature pacing within the confines of his fevered mind.

"Ye might need to tell me what I remember, brother; it's all just bits I cannae quite put together." Hayden admitted.

"The Tartan Day celebrations were going really well, and ye were keeping me from returning to the bakery for fear of favorin' one over all others." Erin pieced together the events leading up to Hayden's capture. "We were taken by surprise. He tried to kill me, nay, he would have, if ye hadn't saved me. Ye took a sword meant for me." Erin placed a hand gently on the bandage wrapped around his bare torso.

Hayden's brow furrowed beneath the stark white of the bandage wrapped around his head, his gaze unfocused as memory beckoned. "Was it... Caelan?" he asked, his words slurred yet insistent. There was a hint of disbelief, a reluctance to reconcile the image of their trusted man-at-arms with that of a traitor. "Does me memory deceive me?"

"I wish it were so," Magnus paced across the small room. "Ye did well, Hayden. All ye need to ken is that ye protected Erin. She's safe because of ye."

"Caelan tried to kill Erin? I hoped I had dreamt it."

"Aye," Magnus confirmed, his jaw setting. "‘Twas Caelan, but ken this—Caelan is Archer Gallagher. He sought revenge for the deaths of his kin, cruelly taken from him."

"Should I ken this name?"

"Nay. Ye and Scarlett were so young." Magnus confessed with a heavy heart. "Councilman Gallagher stood against our father. All I remember was the night our father sentenced him to death for his part in a coup. But father always put a cruel twist on everythin'. He ordered the Councilman Gallagher to kill his own family. He refused, and Faither did it himself. I thought all of them had died."

"I daenae remember this, but Caelan… Archer… he wouldnae remember either. He was me age?" Hayden couldn't make any more sense of the matter than Magnus himself.

"Ye were six or seven, it was around two years before Faither was taken from us. I should have done somethin' then to stop it."

"What could ye have done, Magnus, ye were nay more than twelve yerself." Scarlett huffed. "Ye are nae our faither."

Hayden gave a nod of agreement, but his brow was instantly etched with regret at the movement.

"Rest, brother. Ye need to recover yer strength."

"I daenae remember ye bedbound for a mere cut." Hayden protested. His eyes fluttered open and shut, fighting the grip of drowsiness.

"This is no mere cut, Hayden. Yer thick head nearly took down half the wall."

A small smile spread across Hayden's lips. "Aye, got a thick skull for sure."

As sleep claimed Hayden, Magnus allowed his mind to drift to the men who had helped Archer. He couldn't help but wonder what lies Archer had told them to win over their swords. But Hayden was right to question Archer's memories. An experience when he was eight had twisted in Archer's mind, driving him to seek revenge, hoe bitter he must have felt to be unable to have his revenge on the former laird who was the cause of all his pain. If he had known, he could have helped somehow.

Magnus made up his mind to spare the lives of those who helped Archer. Their only true crime was listening to the rantings of the man they believed to be someone else. There would be punishment, that was certain, but it would be painless. Thinking of his wall comment to Hayden, he decided that they would repair all the damage done, and they would lose their privileges to attend council meetings.

Magnus watched his wife, still gripping Hayden's hand with such compassion and kindness, something he saw rubbing off on himself. He would no longer be ignorant of the needs of others. He would speak personally to each of Archer's followers and discover what they hoped to achieve for themselves in the matter, and he would see that improvements would be made. His clan would be happier because he was happier.

He was happy and complete, and he wanted everyone to feel the way he did.

"Scarlett, would ye call Reggie Hogg to me. It can be his voice that informs the village of their kinsmen's fate. He will make it known to all that nay more blood will be spilled for this."

"And what of the men who stood with Archer? What will become of them?" Her voice held the soft lilt of concern mingled with strength. "Do they nae pay for what happened to our brother?"

"They had nay hand in that. It was Archer alone who hurt Hayden." Magnus felt the weight of leadership upon his broad shoulders, the responsibility to forge a path different from the bloody legacy left by his father. A silent battle raged within him—the instinct to destroy those who betrayed his trust against the yearning to be a laird of justice and mercy.

"Justice will ken their names," he murmured more to himself than to the others. He would not be his father.

"Ye daenae have to decide now, brother," Hayden offered weakly.

"Do ye wish them to die for this?"

"Nay, brother, me head hurts nae more than the morn followin' a night of ale."

Magnus doubted that was true, but he respected his brother's sentiment.

"Killin' those who wrong me... 'twas our faither's way," Magnus finally said, his voice resonant within the stone walls of the healing room. "But I will nae be the tyrant he was."

"Give me a week, and I would gladly stand beside ye brother," Hayden offered.

"We will all stand together, and we shall be stronger for it."

Erin approached him, her blue eyes wide and luminous. "Magnus," she breathed, her voice soft but fervent. With a boldness that defied her past reservations, she reached up and touched his cheek. "I love ye."

In that moment, the world narrowed to the space between them. Magnus looked down at this woman who'd become his unexpected salvation, a fierce flame burning in his chest. As their lips hovered mere breaths apart, a sudden, indignant cough shattered the intimacy.

"Och, spare an injured man the sight," Hayden chided from his propped position, a crooked smile on his lips despite the pallor of his skin. "If ye two keep this up, I'll be needin' to find a wife meself just to have some peace!"

A smirk tugged at the corner of Magnus's mouth, the humor a welcome reprieve from the gravity of his leadership. "Rest easy, brother," he replied with feigned exasperation. "Yer discomfort is duly noted."

With Erin still in his arms, Magnus was, for the first time in his life, exactly where he wanted to be.