Page 112 of The Speed of Lightning
Aileen froze, exchanging a worried glance with Cara before signing rapidly.
Freya blinked. “What have I said?”
Cara cleared her throat. “She says she’s not sure Calum feels that way. She wonders if you’ve told him.”
Aileen’s frown deepened, her expression full of concern. Freya knew she had spent many missions beside Calum on Skye—that they had once been battle partners. Nothing less than honesty would ease her mind.
“What I mean is… I’m not good for him. I fear I’ve loved him since I was a child, but that love has only ever harmed him. Not intentionally, but I’ve harmed him all the same. He’s lost his parents because of me… the clan…” She faltered, gathering herself against the sting of tears.
“We’ve not yet completed our marriage. He believes it’s because I’m not ready. For a time, that was true. But now I see it’s better this way. When he is restored as chieftain, I will returnto Iona, where I was born. I’ve decided to take the veil, as I intended before Rory tried to betroth himself to me.”
Aoife slid on a bead. “For a time you did no’ feel ready. But then you did? What changed your mind?”
Freya’s heart dropped, the fletter slipping loose in her hands. The memory of that day in the longhouse pressed down, stealing her breath and thought. Two tears slid unchecked as she lifted her gaze to them. It felt as though a guiding hand was pulling the truth from her lips. “They cornered me.”
Aileen’s eyes sharpened; her fingers moved quickly.
Cara’s face drained of color as she gave the words voice. “Who cornered you?”
“Rory. And Papa.”
The story came haltingly—how she had gone to the longhouse with Arne’s gift, how Papa and Rory had been waiting, how they pressed her for the truth about the tales. She whispered how they had forced her to bare the scars, how Rory had said Calum had only married her out of pity. Her hands trembled as she shared the rest—his years of watching her, his knowing all her secrets, and the words that still clung to her like a shroud: that she had interfered, that her meddling had led to so much destruction and ruin. That they suspected she was the Storyteller. And that she was afraid—very afraid—of what Calum would do if he ever found out what they had done.
At long last, she quieted, her cheeks hot and blotchy. She braced for judgment in their eyes, but found only tears. Without hesitation, the three women closed around her, forming a circle of fierce, protective love.
Aoife wiped her cheeks. “They’re monsters, Freya. Using your fear to take not just the chieftainship, but you. They want to crush him.”
Cara drew a trembling breath, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. “I hardly know where to begin.”
Aileen signed swiftly, and Cara answered in kind, the two of them exchanging silent urgency while Aoife cradled Freya close, stroking her hair with steady hands.
At last, Cara spoke. “Freya, nothing they said bears any resemblance to truth. You did not cause these things—no one person holds such power. Do not abandon your marriage and flee to Iona. Dinnae break his heart—or your own—by letting Rory’s lies take root. You made a vow in blood, the strongest bond there is. Above all, you must tell Calum.”
Freya shook her head, panic sparking. “He’ll kill them, Cara. The king will take him away…”
Cara rubbed her arm soothingly. “Shhh. You are right to fear. But he must know, and he must be allowed to answer this breach with Ragnall. I too fear he may act rashly, but Freya—you are in danger. They know far more than they have let on.”
She shook her head. “I was convincing. They both had no answers to my defense.”
Cara’s mouth tightened. “I hope so. But I fear the truth is far more frightening than you think. May I tell Hector? He can be with you when you tell Calum, to help manage whatever reaction might come.”
The thought steadied her, even as it filled her with dread. “Please… not here. Not tonight. On the way home, on the boat. That way he cannae run off and do something rash.” She swallowed hard, chest tightening at the thought of the storm that was coming.
Cara lifted her eyes to the ceiling, weighing the request. “I believe that may be wisest course. May I tell him then?”
Feeling drained, Freya nodded, trembling slightly as relief and fear mingled in equal measure.
Aileen began to dab at Freya’s cheeks, brushing away bits of silver leaf, her eyes brimming with compassion. She paused, looked at Cara, and signed.
Cara gave voice to the words. “When I was on missions in Skye, Calum was never far off. He always seemed to know when I was about to do something reckless. He cared more for my safety than the mission itself. He is a fierce defender, a noble warrior, willing to charge into danger for those he loves. He is one of my dearest friends—and I know, without a shadow of doubt, that he loves you. He is your greatest protection now. Trust him, and let him give you the full measure of it.”
Chapter 32
CASTLE TIORAM - MARCH 8, 1387
The great hall of Castle Tioram was packed with MacDonalds, all gathered for the evening’s entertainment. Lime-mortared stone walls glowed with torchlight, and the hearth blazed with a roaring fire. Tables were laden with food—lampreys, fruits, game, marzipan—and the finest selections of French claret.
Birdy and Léo sat beside him, a contented look on Leo’s face as he sipped the dark red vintage, murmuring softly in French. Calum tried to catch the words, but only picked up fragments.
