Page 26 of The Speed of Lightning
“Why are ye no’ at home gathering dust, then?”
He shrugged. “To me this feels like gathering dust. No battles to fight, no missions to complete, no dispatches to write, no guards to drill. Just miles of road to run, stag to hunt, and pretty lasses to walk to Lealt.”
Her head snapped toward him. “You’ve been out walking with Astrid MacNeil?”
The lass was impossible to compliment, batting each one away like midges. “How do you know about Astrid MacNeil?”
She paused at Fraser’s fence. “I saw all the lassies you danced with. And took to the marsh. I remember Astrid MacNeil was your particular favorite.”
He tugged gently on a fletter, unable to help himself. “You should have come out of hiding and joined me.”
Her eyes widened. “At the marsh?”
He chuckled. “I meant for a dance. Or just to say good day. Although, come tae think of it, I wouldnae mind taking you to a marsh.”
Scarlet flooded her skin, rising from her neck to the tip of her nose and across her brow. Yet she brushed past his flirtation with practiced ease. “Aye, I’m quite good at catching natterjack toads. It would make a blithe evening.”
Fraser’s door opened and he descended the stairs, waving. “Calum, how nice of you to visit. I thought you’d be off with your father on clan business.”
Irritation prickled, and Calum rolled his eyes. “As did I. Seems he wishes me to rest. Though the king has given me other tasks while I’m here. I was waiting for Master MacFadyen’s return from the north to attend to it.”
Fraser leaned over the fence. “Other business?”
“Aye. Perhaps you could help me instead. Have you heard of the one called the Storyteller?“
Fraser’s face lit, brows high, mouth splitting in a grin. He winked at Freya. “I certainly have.”
Startled to have found a lead so quickly, Calum pressed. “You’ve heard the stories?”
“I’ve heard them all. The Hound of Jura, the Raid of Lochbuie, the?—”
“Wait. Lochbuie?”
Fraser chuckled, winking at Freya again. “Aye. The tale of how you helped Hector MacLean take it from the MacFadyens without bloodshed, becoming Commander of the MacLean Guard.”
Calum frowned. “But that was years before the war with the Wolf.”
“A’course. Then Lochindorb—that one’s my favorite, though you barely feature in it. And the series of the Shield’s exploits on Skye?—”
Horror clenched Calum’s gut. Dómhnall had been right. The Storyteller had to be from Jura. It was the only explanation. “Fraser…there’s not an easy way to ask this, but are you the Storyteller?”
Fraser erupted, laughter hacking out of him until he wheezed for breath. “Nooooo…”
Relief loosened Calum’s chest. “That’s good to hear.”
Fraser dabbed at his eyes, still grinning. “Why?”
“Because the king has tasked me to find this Storyteller and bring him to Ardtornish. The man has thieved my father’s missives, and that’s a crime. He’ll face trial.”
All humor drained from Fraser’s face. His head swiveled to Freya, her eyes wide. “Trial? But why? The stories havenae harmed anyone.”
Calum scoffed. “Yet. The fool has disclosed my identity all over the Isles and Scotland. That’s why I’ve been sent home by the king. We need to fortify our defenses and raise a guard. This Storyteller has put us all at risk of
retaliation blethering at the expense of your safety.”
Fraser stepped back, thunderstruck.
Calum’s suspicion flared. “Do you know the Storyteller?”
