Page 23 of The Speed of Lightning
He shook his head. “We dinnae know for certain. But with my son back, I can at last do what’s been impossible these ten years. We’ll rebuild the walls, raise a guard, and restore the crumbling ring forts. With his return, with the support you’ve earned him, with your efforts to sway the MacSorleys—we can finally move forward instead of backward. We can give something real to this war.”
A blast of cold harvest wind swept over them, and she drew the cloak tighter, hiding herself away. “I suppose I cannae fault you for loving your son more than your good sense. I only wish my words were not used to invite danger.”
His soft gray eyes held hers. “Your voice is powerful, Freya. The stories you’ve written turned the tide for Hector’s cause. Three powerful Highland clans reluctant to join now pledge forces for Man. That is your gift. And I need you to hear me—clear. You cannae stop writing.”
“But—”
“I believe the Shield needs you. To spread their cause across the Isles. To show what unity can accomplish. To carry their legend into Scotland, even to the Wolf himself, so he sees we arenae to be trifled with.”
“Have you told Calum?”
He winced. “No, lass. Perhaps when the time is right—but not yet. I willnae betray you to him. The king shall not take the matter lightly, and Calum is bound by oath to report any intelligence. Dómhnall is already wavering in his support. ’Tis a precarious time.”
She had come to Lealt Linn seeking Týr’s guidance, but would leave even more burdened. The solitary piece of her life that brought her joy had placed hundreds in danger. How could she continue? “I never meant to wage war against the Wolf. I only wanted them to remember Calum.”
“And they do. Because of you, they welcomed him home without doubt or question. You showed them his courage, his worth. And with the children—because of you—this clan is uniting for the first time in memory. Please, Freya. Dinnae stop. We need your voice if we’re to withstand this storm.”
“The Wolf. Papa. The defenses. Too many storms for one lass to weather.”
“You forgot Rory.”
She groaned aloud, and Týr laughed.
“That is the worst part,” she said bitterly. “I’m well and truly betrothed to a man as stubborn and unmanageable as my father. I’ll be shackled to him for life.”
Týr’s chuckle rumbled low. “Aye, but look at the miracles you’ve already wrought among the MacSorleys. Left to your father, Rory might grow into a problem. With you as wife, I reckon you could soften even the hardest heart.” He pinched her cheek, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Or at least learn to plug your ears when he speaks and think of him as merely pretty.”
Again she laughed despite herself. “Rory’s full of belief he’ll be MacSorley chieftain after Papa, with me beside him to legitimize his claim. And with our heir, which I must produce as soon as possible. That’s what he tells Papa.”
Týr’s face hardened. “He isnae a MacSorley. He’s a MacDonald, and that’s where his loyalties lie. Calum will need to watch him. There’s something more underlying with the man, but I cannae put my finger on it. What will you do? Word will reach him that you’ve publicly cast your lot with Calum’s.”
Her stomach twisted. “A fact neither he nor Papa will forget, I’m certain. Perhaps I can pass it off as concern for Papa’s safety? Do you think Rory will return soon?”
Týr shook his head. “Calum reckons he’ll be at Ardtornish for weeks yet. There’s more he’s not telling me, and it smells of another storm. Who do you think carries the heavier load now?”
Freya laughed softly. “Always you. Calum counts for two storms all by himself.”
Laughter rumbled from his chest, and he glanced up at the cloud-thick sky. “Do you know something, Freya?”
“What’s that?”
“You’re a treasure. I love you as my own daughter.”
The words stunned her, so foreign were they from Papa’s steady stream of curses. She drew her cloak tighter, unsure how to answer. “W-why do you say that?”
Týr turned his bonnet in his hands. “All this talk of what comes after I’m gone…it makes a man think. I willnae be here forever, and it’s right to tell folk how you feel before you cannae anymore.”
She peered at the endless night sky. “Are ye doolally? You’ll outlast us all with your running, fighting, and those greens you swear by.”
He chuckled, tugging gently at one of her fletters. “Perhaps. Still—it’s been an honor to love you, my star. An honor.”
Chapter 6
INVERLUSSA, JURA - OCTOBER 7, 1386
The days following his reunion with Freya were, for Calum, fraught. His father had left the morning after his return to tend to a clan matter in the south and had not yet come back. Already working with a small economy of days to organize the defense, he grew more agitated as time wore on with no word of when his father would return.
By the third day, Maw had had enough of his hovering. She gave him a long talking-to, reminding him that the Jurans did not live as the coigreach did. Would he please accept this pause in duty as a gift from his father, a chance to rest before the work began in earnest?
