Page 9 of A Constant Blaze

But Halla, once more thinking like the Lady of Ross, stayed him. “Adam. We will not behave as brigands. We will receive them here.”

“Andthenkill them,” Findlaech muttered quite audibly.

The lady ignored him. She tolerated much from Findlaech, not just because he was a loyal and fierce fighter, but because he was the nearest thing to a father her sons had known growing up, and he’d taught them well. Even Adam.

Adam’s hands clenched at Halla’s command, but at least he turned and came back to where she sat in her throne-like chair behind the dais table. On one side of her sat Gormflaith and Cairistiona, behind her, two of her women. The chair on her other side was empty, but Adam was clearly too restless to sit in it. He paced behind them, raising the hairs on Halla’s neck because she couldn’t see what he was thinking or feeling. Or dreaming.

The house guards, with Findlaech and a few other men who’d accompanied them from Tirebeck, stood menacingly around the hall, bristling with weapons.

The men of Ross brought the king’s people into the hall. All three had been disarmed, although it wasn’t clear exactly when. Someone prodded the messenger forward, and all three hastily strode the length of the hall toward their reception—presumably a daunting one, since the king’s men all looked petrified. The messenger didn’t even need to be prodded to his knees. He all but fell, gazing hard at the floor while he held out a rolled parchment in front of him.

“My lady. His Grace, the King of Scots sends you greetings and begs you to read this.”

Halla doubted it had been phrased quite like that. “Commands” would have been more normal than “begs.”

Sweyn, the burly captain of her house guard, took the parchment from the man and brought it to Halla. She was glad to see her fingers steady as she broke the seal and spread the roll out on the table before her. She stared at it for a long time in total silence.

Tension surrounded the hall, like a single thread pulled taut enough to break with one finger pressed upon it. Halla imagined cutting the thread with one word and watching a massacre unfold. She suspected the king’s men had similar apprehensions. She was aware of Adam, standing perfectly still behind her, no doubt glaring at them with what Cairistiona called his battle face. No wonder they looked frightened. If only they knew, that particular expression only meant that he was hiding what he wished no one to see. That it was he who was frightened.

At first, the words on the parchment made no sense. So, she read them again. Something new to bear. There was always something new. And yet… Her heart began to beat faster again, with something more than fear. Something, surely, could be won from this, if only she could see what.

Halla raised her eyes from the parchment to the three kneeling men. “You will be given refreshment and rest before you return with our reply.”

“What?” Gormflaith demanded between closed lips before the men had got very far down the hall. “What does it say?”

Halla rose without replying, leading the way to the more private area near the bedchambers and waiting for her family, Findlaech, and Sweyn to sit. Only then, did she all but throw the message to Adam.

“The king holds Donald at Roxburgh,” she said in a rush. “He wants to release Malcolm and keep Donald as hostage for his good behavior.”

“So, Fergus kept his word,” Adam said, spreading the letter open on his large knees. “I should have known this would be how—”

“It won’t be how,” Halla interrupted. “Malcolm won’t go. He’s refusing to leave without Donald.”

Adam’s breath caught. He met her gaze, and something flashed between them. It was almost laughter, although in Halla’s case, it was very close to tears. Wretched, stubborn, perverse,honorableMalcolm MacHeth.

“So, the king will keep them both?” Gormflaith said anxiously. “Is there some demand for Adam and Somerled to lay down arms?”

Halla tapped the unrolled parchment on Adam’s lap. “Not exactly. The King of Scots invites me to write to my husband, impressing upon him our need of him to uphold and maintain peace in Ross and the whole of Scotland.”

Adam glanced up from the letter. “In other words, to persuade him to leave Donald in prison and come home for the sake of peace.”

“If the royal army comes this autumn, can we hold them off?” Halla asked.

Adam shrugged. “We can pick them off, annoy them, try to persuade Somerled to draw them away with some distraction in the west before they cause too much damage. But the truth is, we need my father or we have no cause.”

“Then you would leave Donald there?” Halla demanded, glaring up at him with surprised indignation. No one should be obliged to choose between husband and son, father and brother. No choice could ever be right.

Adam shook his head violently. “We’ll take the battle to the king once more. With every man we have, we’ll march on Perth or wherever he happens to be. Somerledmustattack the west coast now. Between us, we’ll sow the fear of God across—”

“It’s what they expect,” Cairistiona interrupted.

Halla blinked at her in surprise.

Even Adam’s eyes came back into focus on his wife. “What?”

Christian said, “The messenger who came for Sir William told him to be ready when you march south, remember? This is what the message meant. Theyknowyou’ll come in response to this. They’ll be ready for you.”

Adam gazed at her, expressions flitting across his face.

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