Page 22 of The Speed of Lightning
Her voice wobbled. “I hit the floor so hard I chipped my tooth. He raged about the time he’s spent, the effort he’s made with the clan…
“Then Papa came home today with that horrible dress. I knew I had to wear it. If I didnae, Papa would lose his temper, and Rory would be angry, and he would…he would…”
Out of time and options, she buried her face in Týr’s tunic, releasing the grief that had been knotting tighter and tighter since Rory’s departure a month ago.
Týr patted her back. “I thought you looked lovely.”
She snorted, leaving a wet trail across his tunic. “Dinnae tease me. The color was an insult to ye both. There is nothing noble about me. Is Mariota cross?”
His solid hand patted her as if she were a bairn. “I’m no’ teasing. You did look lovely. And no, of course Mariota isnae cross with ye, daft hen. She understands better than anyone how your father can be. I reckon the whole clan does by now.” He chuckled. “It worked its charm, but no’ in the way Ragnall hoped.”
She released him and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “What do ye mean?”
Týr pulled her down beside him to sit on the rock and handed over his handkerchief. “Calum. His nose looked like it was balancing two shinty balls, so wide-eyed was he.”
Against her will she choked on a laugh. “Now who’s daft?”
Týr propped his elbow on a raised knee. “No’ I. The lad has stars in his eyes.”
He was mistaken—or being kind to soothe her fears. Of course he was. The only time Calum had noticed her in more than pity was the day he fled. And even then, it was only because it seemed a very hard thingnotto notice, that the daughter of your enemy has taken it upon herself to help you flee.
Unsure where Týr now stood with his son, she gathered her courage and asked delicately, “Did you know he was returning?”
A glow lit his hooded eyes, a half-smile tugging despite himself. “I didnae expect contrition, but I always knew he’d return.”
A little steadier, she pressed the question she most needed answered. “He said he could speak for Rory’s absence. Was that what the king’s missive contained?”
“Aye. In part. The other part is…tricky.”
Unsettled, she picked up a stick and traced a star in the mud. “What is the first part?”
He crossed his arms, stretching his legs. “There’s urgent business at Ardtornish—I dinnae ken what. The king has kept Rory to manage it. He’s sent Calum back with orders to strengthen our defenses and raise a fighting unit. Word of the Order has reached the Highlanders. That’s why the king returned him to me.”
Astonished, she dropped her stick and watched it float into the rapids, unable to grasp his meaning. “How?”
He winced. “Your stories, lass.”
Clammy horror crawled through her belly. “But I thought they were just for our clan.”
Rubbing the back of his long neck, he confessed, “I passed a few to other clans.”
She stared at him, reeling. “What do you mean, passed them on?”
“At Findlugan, minstrels gather for reports they can take to the rest of the Isles. Early in ’84 I met one—Còta Liath.”
Her eyes widened. “Còta Liath?”
He nodded. “I gave him your tale of Lochindorb. He sold it—half a groat per telling, a shilling for a script. When I met him again, he begged for more. Said he’d earned thrice what he ever made from his own songs. So I gave him the Imprisoned Lion, but made him promise to name the author only as ‘the Storyteller.’ For the coin he was raking in, he agreed gladly.”
Appalled, she stared at him. “Týr, how could you not tell me?” Sweat prickled her skin as the weight of his betrayal sank in. “We are at great risk of retaliation.”
“I felt it a risk worth taking. Hector needed every advantage as War Chief. I knew my son would march into battle after battle against one of the most ruthless merchants of war Scotland has ever seen. The Isles had to be united. If the clans heard your stories, they would send more men to fight, more resources, more strength to throw off the Wolf.”
She shook her head, unwilling to relent. “If you had told me, I could have written them differently.”
He rose to his feet, pacing. “You may not understand, but I needed the Council of the Isles to see Jura was contributing. That my son is one of the greatest fighters in the land. I wanted to send men to stand beside him, to march with him into battle. But we are so woefully divided I had no guard to send. That is my shame.”
A weak sound of disbelief escaped her chest. “We’re under the Wolf’s close attention now, I’m sure.”
