Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A thick fog of tension hung over the drawing room as Hugo, Domnhall, Abigail, and Billie sat there. Tea and food had been laid out for them on the low table in the middle of the sitting area, though the ornate china cups had remained untouched, the tea cold and the food ignored. No one had much appetite for any of it. No one reached for so much as a sip, too busy going over the same plans again and again without coming to any different conclusions.

“I still think it would be wiser for Abigail to stay here,” Hugo said, not for the first time that night. It was late, the moon well on its way through the sky, its pale light shining in through the large windows, but none of them had any hope they would sleep. There was still too much to do, too much to consider, and Hugo would not rest until he was certain they were doing the best thing, not only for their clans and for Laird Robertson, but also for Abigail.

“Hugo, we have already discussed this,” Abigail said wearily and though Hugo couldn’t blame her, he was tired of having the same discussion, too. It seemed to him that no one was listening to what he had to say, while everyone else thought that he refused to compromise.

It was true enough, he supposed. He was refusing to compromise but it was for a good reason.

“Yes, we have, and yet no one seems to be listening to me,” Hugo pointed out. He stood from the couch and began to pace back and forth in front of the windows, too agitated to stay still. “This is far too dangerous. And it is precisely what Niall and Finnian expect.”

“It’s better than simply marchin’ up tae Castle Chattan an’ deliverin’ a direct attack,” Domnhall said.

Hugo came to a halt, turning to face Domnhall. “You said it yourself. They will never believe we allowed Abigail to go there on her own. They will know we’re there to fight.”

“An’ yet even a moment o’ hesitation from their part will give us an advantage,” Domnhall insisted. “Ye’re right, I dinnae think they are foolish enough tae believe we wouldnae go with her. An’ I’m nae foolish enough tae believe they will keep their word an’ spill nay blood if we dae as they say. The only way tae end this is through a battle but we cannae be the ones tae attack. We are unprepared. We dinnae have enough forces on our own tae complete a successful siege in enemy territory. An’ even if we did, I wouldnae waste me men’s lives like this! If we are tae go tae war, then we must be clever about it!”

By the end of his speech, Domnhall was standing as well, he and Hugo staring at each other from opposite sides of the room. Each breath Domnhall took was labored, the possibility of a bloody war weighing heavy on his shoulders.

For a few moments, no one spoke. Even Billie and Abigail, who had been more than vocal the entire time they sat there, discussing their options, had now fallen silent, looking back and forth between the two men.

With a deep breath, Hugo perched himself on the edge of the couch once more, rubbing a hand over his face. Exhaustion coursed through him, leaving his limbs heavy and his temples pulsing with the first stirrings of a headache, but he pushed through it. There was no time for rest. There was no time for anything other than coming to an agreement and then heading to Castle Chattan as soon as they could.

“You’re right,” Hugo admitted after a few moments of silence. “You’re right, of course, but maybe we could take someone else in Abigail’s place, non ?”

“Hugo, they ken what she looks like,” Domnhall pointed out. “They’ll ken if it’s someone else.”

“An’ I willnae let someone else be in danger,” Abigail said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “I willnae send some poor lass in me place. I must be the one tae dae this.”

Hugo wasn’t surprised to hear hat. Abigail would do anything to protect those around her, even if she hardly knew them. To her, this was a burden she had to carry herself and Hugo doubted there was anything he could say to change her mind.

“We dinnae have the luxury o’ time,” Domnhall reminded him. “We must leave at first light. The more we delay this, the more likely it is that Clan Chattan will think we are rejectin’ their offer. We must strike an’ we must strike soon.”

“I’ll prepare fer the journey,” said Abigail. “What will ye have me dae?”

“Ye’ll enter the castle alone,” Domnhall said, and just as Hugo was about to protest, he added, “We’ll be nearby, o’ course. Naething will happen tae ye, Abigail. I promise.”

Hugo didn’t know if the reassurance was more for his sake or for Abigail’s, but it did little to calm his nerves. Abigail, on the other hand, seemed entirely unfazed, listening to Domnhall carefully as he explained the plan.

“We’ll take four dozen o’ our men,” Domnhall said. “The rest will stay here in case this is only a distraction an’ the Chattans have planned an attack on our lands. Castle MacAuley must remain strongly protected.”

“Four dozen?” Hugo asked. “Will that be enough?”

“It will have tae be,” said Domnhall. “We dinnae need tae defeat them. We only need tae contain them an’ cause as much damage as we can until reinforcements arrive.”

“How can you be certain they will?” asked Hugo. “Even if the king receives word of this, there is no guarantee he will aid us in this battle. For all we know, he will let this be settled among us.”

“Ye have very little faith,” Domnhall said.

“Or perhaps you have too much,” Hugo said.

“Help will come,” Billie said. It was striking, Hugo thought, how much she sounded like her sister when she was certain of something. “We have allies. There are few reports of clans allied with the Chattans. If the battle is drawn out fer too long, I will send more men tae yer aid.”

“Ye’ll stay here?” Abigail asked, eyes wide as she turned to look at Billie. “Ye willnae come?”

“As much as I want tae, I cannae,” Billie said. “Forgive me, Abigail. I must stay here an’ tend tae the castle an’ the men. An’ if Ellair comes back in time, I must be here tae meet him.”

Hugo hadn’t even considered the possibility of Billie joining them, but it seemed that Abigail had had a different idea. Had it been anyone else, Hugo wouldn’t have noticed the way her chin trembled ever so slightly or the way she blinked rapidly a few times, as if to chase away the tears that gathered in her eyes. She was good at masking her fear and her grief, he thought. The only thing that betrayed it was that she reached for Billie’s hand and held it so tightly that her knuckles turned bone-white under the light of the candles.

“This is it, then?” Abigail asked. “This is the plan?”

Domnhall glanced at Hugo, but no matter how much Hugo wanted to insist there was a better way, he remained silent and simply nodded. Had there been another way—at least one they could come up with in the span of a few hours—they would have already found it. His feelings on the matter were clouding his judgement, he knew, and if anyone else had been in his shoes, he would have admonished them for even considering jeopardizing the mission for selfish reasons.

All he could do was make sure nothing bad happened to Abigail. He was going to be there for her. He wouldn’t let anyone touch her.

“This is the plan,” Domnhall confirmed. “We leave at first light.”

Hugo caught Abigail’s gaze, his breath catching in his throat. He wanted to make her a promise. He wanted to tell her that nothing would happen to her as long as he lived, but the words died on his tongue before he could utter them.

And then Abigail flashed him a small smile, before making her way out of the room.

Dawn came sooner than Abigail would have liked. The light broke through the horizon, bathing the courtyard in a cool blue hue, one that made the morning seem even colder than it was. A soft, humid mist hung around them as they all gathered by the gates: Abigail and Billie holding onto each other’s hands, Hugo and Domnhall standing close behind along with the four dozen men who had been selected to make the journey with them.

Only a few hours prior, Abigail had managed to keep a hopeful, if small, smile on her lips. She had managed to keep her eyes dry from tears, even as Billie told her that she couldn’t accompany her to Castle Chattan.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Billie was the Lady of Castle MacAuley, after all, and there were duties she had to uphold. She couldn’t simply abandon everything just so that she could follow Abigail.

And yet, despite knowing all this and despite understanding it, Abigail couldn’t help but selfishly wish her sister could come. Having Domnhall and Hugo there meant that she would be safe—neither man would let anything happen to her. But having her sister there would be a comfort like no other.

“Nay matter what happens, I love ye,” Abigail told Billie, who was quick to shush her, shaking her head as she pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Dinnae speak like that,” Billie said. “Naething will happen. Ye will come back safe an’ sound, Domnhall an’ Hugo will make sure o’ it.”

“I ken,” Abigail assured her. “But I still need tae say it. I still need ye tae ken.”

If there was even the smallest chance that something would happen to her—and the truth of the matter was that as much as they all believed in Domnhall’s and Hugo’s capabilities, the risk of harm and death was still too high to ignore—then Abigail wanted her last words to her sister to be words of love. She wanted that love to be what she remembered when she thought about her.

Billie clung to Abigail desperately, her arms a crushing vice around her, though Abigail could hardly complain about it when she was doing the same. She was reluctant to let go. She wanted that moment between them to stretch into eternity so that she never had to leave her sister’s side.

And yet, like all things, this too had to come to an end. Behind Billie, Domnhall approached and placed a gentle hand on her, pulling them apart slowly and with regret in his eyes.

“We must leave,” he said. “We have a long way ahead o’ us.”

Abigail and Billie both nodded in understanding, holding onto each other for just a moment longer before they finally pulled apart. Hugo walked over to Abigail as Billie and Domnhall said their own goodbyes to each other, and he pulled her farther to the side as he reached behind his back.

“Keep this on you at all times,” Hugo said, handing her a sturdy blade with a well-worn handle. “Keep it hidden until you must use it. Don’t let anyone see it. The best defense you have is the element of surprise.”

It was far from the first time Abigail had heard those words from Hugo, but she nodded in understanding nevertheless, tucking the knife into her bodice and away from view. They hadn’t had the time to teach her more than the basics when it came to fighting—with or without a blade—but at least she had a better chance at defending herself if it came to it.

“Do you remember what I taught you?” Hugo asked.

Abigail nodded. “Weak points,” she said, repeating the words that he had drilled into her mind again and again as they trained. “Neck. Stomach. With the edge, nae the tip.”

“Good,” said Hugo. “And don’t forget, eyes and groin.”

“I thought there is nae honor in that,” Abigail reminded him.

“Honor means little when your opponent lacks it,” said Hugo grimly. “If the man who attacks you had honor, he wouldn’t be attacking you in the first place. You are not a soldier.”

Abigail supposed there was truth in what Hugo said. She could hardly win a fair fight against a trained soldier, let alone several of them. If her survival depended on that blade she hid against her body, then she would have to do anything it took to win.

When Billie and Domnhall pulled apart, their party mounted their horses and began to stream out the gates, the soldiers in pairs, with Abigail, Hugo, and Domnhall in the middle of the formation. As they exited the castle walls, Abigail glanced over her shoulder back at her sister, who stood and watched them as they left, tears gathering in her eyes.

Abigail’s vision blurred with tears of her own. It was impossible to contain them this time, when she watched her sister’s figure get smaller and smaller, until it was finally obscured entirely by the soldiers that made up the rear of the formation. All she could see was the strands of fair hair, let loose as she preferred, tossing around in a golden halo in the wind. And then, with a thud that echoed in the empty space around them, the gates to the castle closed, obscuring Billie entirely from Abigail’s view.

“Ye will see her again soon,” Domnhall assured her. “We all will. This will be over soon.”

Abigail wanted nothing more than to believe that. She wanted nothing more than to believe it would be a matter of days, weeks at the most, until they returned. And yet she didn’t allow herself to be so optimistic.

Niall and Finnian had her father. Right as they were riding to Castle Chattan, her father was most likely bound in some dungeon, being subjected to all the kinds of torture Niall and Finnian seemed to be so skilled at. The marks they had left on Hugo were still visible, a cruel reminder of what they could do to them all if they won.

The thought stoked the flames of Abigail’s hatred. She wanted nothing more than to see Clan Chattan fall, brought down by their own greed and hubris.

She would do anything in her power to see Niall and Finnian receive the punishment they deserved.