Niall froze, his woad-printed hand hidden in the kail. But he looked at Frae, and his gaze was gentle. “Yes, Frae.”
“Are you Jack’s father too?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a Breccan, though.”
“I am. Does that frighten you, Frae?”
“No,” she answered honestly, gazing up at him. “I know you’re good.”
He smiled, and then coughed before returning his attention to the garden. Frae thought he might be hiding a few tears, but then he said, “I’m happy to hear that. And I’m happy to be your father. I’m sorry that I was gone until now.”
“Will you stay with us? With me and Mum?” Frae asked. “And Jack, whenever he comes home?”
Niall paused, as if lost in contemplation. His silence made Frae nervous, and her heart was suddenly beating very fast, imagining him leaving. She didn’t want him to leave. And yet she was too shy to tell him how she felt.
“I would like very much to stay here with you and your mother, and Elspeth too, if you’ll let her.”
“Yes, Elspeth!” Frae cried, smacking her forehead. She was swarmed by guilt for forgetting to include her new friend. “She can stay in my room. I mean Jack’s room. It was his, and then mine.”
“That is very kind of you, daughter,” Niall said as he laid a bundle of kail in Frae’s basket. He winked at her, and Frae smiled, so happy she thought her chest might burst. “Here, shall we harvest a few carrots now? I think your mother would like that.”
Frae nodded, and they moved down the rows where the carrots grew. It was late afternoon, and the wind was quiet, the sky cloudless, the sun bright. It seemed like a perfect day, and Frae was telling her father about their three cows when the riders approached.
It was the watchmen from the Aithwood. The strongest of the East Guard who patrolled the clan line. Frae had always regarded them with awe. They kept her and Mirin safe, and she had always trusted them. But as the riders came to a stop on the other side of the garden wall, they drew arrows on their bows.
“Up to your feet, Breccan,” one of them commanded. “Hands raised.”
Frae gaped for a moment, astonished. Her father wasn’t wearing his blue plaid, but he wasn’t able to hide his tattoos. Slowly, Niall raised his hands and stood.
“Come with us,” another guard said. “Now. Step away from the lass.”
When Niall began to stiffly move forward, Frae cried out, wrapping her arms around him.
“No. No! He’s my da.”
She watched how her words grew wings and struck the Tamerlaine guards in their faces. Their brows lowered, and their mouths pressed into thin, hard lines. One of them finally said, “Come now, Frae. This man is dangerous and has trespassed. Let him go.”
She only held to Niall tighter, burying her face in his shirt. She wanted to weep at how cruel the world was, how unfair it was for her father to finally arrive to be with her and Mirin, only to see the guards tear him away.
“It’s all right, Frae,” Niall whispered to her.
“No, it’s not!” she shouted. Frae drew in a sharp breath, leaning her head back, and it felt like her face had caught fire. She was so furious, so angry. She had never yelled at an adult before, but she let her voice rise. “I’ve waited my whole life for you! Tell them that you’re good, Da. Tell them!”
“Frae.” Mirin’s voice cut through the sunlight. But she wasn’t scolding her daughter; she was seeking to calm her, and Frae glanced at her mother.
“Are you harboring this man willingly, Mirin?” one of the guards asked. Their arrows were still trained on Niall. And Frae as well, since she refused to let him go.
Mirin came to stand beside Niall. Her gaze was dark and steady, her chin tilted high as she looked at the guards. “Yes, he is a guest.”
“He’s a Breccan.”
“And he is mine,” Mirin countered coolly. “Lower your arrows, before you shoot an innocent person.”
“What do you mean he is yours? Are you bound to this man, Mirin?”
Frae watched as her mother looked at Niall. “Yes. We spoke a vow on this hill, years ago by the light of the moon. He is mine, and should you harm him, you would hold a debt against me that you could never repay.”
The air crackled with tension. No one spoke or moved—they all seemed caught in a web—and Frae wasn’t certain what would happen next. How would she and Mirin be able to keep Niall and Elspeth safe? Then came a voice that surprised her, drawing all their attention to the yard gate.
“Lower your arrows,” Torin commanded the guards. “Return to the castle barracks and stay there until you receive further instructions.”
The guards looked pale and astonished, but they heeded the laird instantly. They returned the arrows to the quivers on their backs and departed in a cloud of dust.
Frae shuddered in relief, unwinding her arms from Niall. She stared at Torin, surprised by the dark smudges on his face and garments; he looked like he had been in a chimney. Sidra was at his side, also bearing cinder marks. Frae’s hope lifted until Mirin spoke.
“Laird, Lady. I ask that you please allow this man to remain here with me, safely. He is no threat to the clan.”
“He is Niall Breccan, I take it?” Torin said, his gaze flickering from Mirin to Niall. “Could we come inside and have a word with all of you?”
Frae wondered if that was a good sign or a bad one. Would Torin and Sidra listen to them? She let Niall take her hand, and they followed the laird and the healer into the cottage.
Elspeth must have heard the conversation through the window; she had prepared a spread of tea and refreshments at the kitchen table, and everyone gathered there, the silence tense until Sidra broke it.
“We’ve just come from your cottage in the Aithwood, Niall.”
Frae looked at her father. He raked his fingers through his hair, and he seemed nervous. “It survived the fire?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a relief to hear.”
Torin said, “We wanted to know if you had plans to return there.”
“To my house?” Niall paused, but his eyes went to Mirin. “I had hoped to stay here with Mirin and Frae, along with my mother, Elspeth.”
Frae bit her nails, tasting dirt from the garden. This was it. The moment when she discovered if her father would be allowed to stay with them or not.
“Of course you can stay here,” Torin said, lifting his hand. “This is your family, and you belong with them. But we wanted to ask if we could use your cottage in the woods.”
“Use it?” Niall asked. “What for?”
“We want to establish a trade there,” Sidra replied. “A place for Breccans and Tamerlaines to meet and exchange goods, as well as share meals and stories. A place where peace may be forged.”
Niall was silent for a few breaths. But the color had returned to his face, and a smile curved his lips. “I would like that. You’re welcome to use it however you think best.”