Page 77 of The Speed of Lightning
The soldiers parted, and through them stepped a man in a white robe and a gleaming bascinet crowned with eagle feathers—the mark of the King of the Isles.
This was a different man than John of Islay. That man had been affable, generous, even gracious to her father. He had stopped by their longhouse on several occasions when he’d visited Týr, remembering her name and that she had a talent for embroidery. This man was younger. Harder. A quiet challenge smoldered in his wide-set brown eyes, the kind that promised no kindness, no leniency.
Calum kneeled. Freya dropped beside him, bowing low, her heart pounding, unsure what else to do.
His voice rang steady. “Your Grace.”
The king halted before them, his white robe catching the firelight. “Laird MacLean, I’ve come to hear for myself why you disobeyed my direct order not to engage the Stewarts in battle. Did you not receive this instruction?”
A shiver prickled from Freya’s scalp down her spine. She dared a glance at Calum, fear rising sharp in her chest. They weren’t here for her. They were here for him.Dear Jesus, no.
Calum cleared his throat, face unreadable. “I did receive the instruction from Chief MacLean of Lochbuie. Yet we did notinstigate the attack. The Stewarts breached our peace and safety by invading our shores.”
Angry Jurans roared in support, voices echoing in the rafters.
“Silence,” the king snapped. “Another word and you will leave here under arrest for treason.”
The hall fell still, outrage etched into every face, but no one dared speak.
The king’s voice carried, cold and cutting. “On top of your flagrant disregard for my orders, I have received a most disturbing report. From one of my guard, and a member of your own clan, that you have abused the authority granted you by my father only two months past.”
Calum kept his head bowed. “I dinnae ken what you mean, Your Grace.”
The king lifted his hand, fingers twitching in a summons. “Rory.”
Through the line of guards Rory pushed forward, her father close behind. Freya’s breath caught. Alarmed, she raised her head, straightening, understanding at once where her father had been since he had lost his fight with Calum. He had been at Ardtornish. With Rory. The pieces of a plot so sinister she couldn’t fathom it slid into place. Her body trembled. Could they have caused the attack?
The king continued. “Two months ago my father sent you here to fortify Jura. Instead, you twisted those orders, disregarded the defense of this island, and stole the bride of my father’s most trusted guard.”
A murmur swept the hall, low and venomous. Freya shot to her feet, fury scorching through her good sense. All Calum had borne these past months, every unjust word, every slight, blazed in her chest like fire. “How dare you malign Cù Cogaidh! It is a lie. A flagrant lie!”
King Dómhnall turned toward her, brows rising in disbelief. “Do you know to whom you are speaking?”
Papa stepped forward, his face cold as stone. “Do you see what I have been telling you, Your Grace? He has poisoned my daughter’s mind and turned her against her own blood.”
For once she felt no fear of her father, only outrage and burning frustration. “He hasnae!”
Calum pulled her down to his side, keeping his head bowed. “Apologies, Your Grace, for my lady’s outburst. Please, ignore her.” His voice stayed measured as he lifted his eyes, slow and deliberate. “My lady means only to explain that she suffered a grave injury weeks ago. Circumstances necessitated our marriage, which your father himself contracted. We have been friends since childhood, and I took her to seek help in the middle of the night. That was all. Nothing untoward. Thane Ragnall has chosen to twist the circumstances since. In any case, he accepted my bride price and signed the banns, and we were wed at Lochbuie.”
Again she leapt to her feet, fire sparking in her chest. “My father kicked a boiling cauldron and its contents spilled over my legs. I needed a healer.”
Calum’s hand clamped on her wrist and dragged her down again, his eyes flashing her a sharp warning.
Papa shook his head, face solemn. “I would never do such a thing. She tripped and fell into the cauldron herself. I told her I would take her to a healer in the morning.”
The king crossed his arms, his gaze heavy on her. “I am told MacLean used the moment to his advantage, stealing you away in order to gain more control over the MacSorley faction of your clan.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd, some of the auld MacSorleys shaking their heads as if swayed by the false tale.
Calum swallowed, his voice steady but tight. “I would never do such a reckless and foolish thing. Every soul in this hall knows angering Thane Ragnall is the surest way to lose the MacSorleys’ cooperation. That is why the defense of this island has failed. Many were unsettled by our marriage, by my taking his daughter for healing in the night.”
Rory came closer, his face full of false injury. “As I’ve told you, the lass loved me. He stole her against her will, used the church to undermine her father’s authority, and now threatens to beat her if she does not repeat his version of events. She sent word to me through her father that this is the truth. Even now she lies only to avoid punishment.”
Freya tore free of Calum’s hand and rose again, voice ringing clear despite the danger. “I did not wish to marry Rory, nor did I ever support their bid for my father’s chieftainship. The whole clan saw me pledge my fealty to Calum the night of his return!”
Another swell of whispers coursed through the hall, louder now, divided. Fraser stepped forward from the crowd, bonnet clutched in his hands, his voice trembling but resolute. “’Tis true, Your Grace. We all witnessed it with our own eyes.”
Papa snorted. “And she swore to me that night she only did it to spare me from Cù Ceartas’s punishment for lawfully pressing my claim to his chieftainship before the clan.”
