“Who?” Odran asked.
“One of Cowan’s men. Deara brought bread and drink along with two other servants to Cowan’s men and there was one young man that made sure to speak with her. I remember seeing them smile and him talk awkwardly with her like some men do when they fancy a woman but don’t know what to say to her. I thought the fool was already in love and didn’t know it.” He shook his head. “Glenis and I would talk at times, but nothing more. I always thought Glenis had a man she would meet with secretly, since she frequented the woods for plants, though she often returned with an empty basket. She also showed no interest in any man in the clan—until Bram. Why him makes no sense.” Again he shook his head. “I got two innocent women killed.”
“Nay, a woman consumed by madness killed two women,” Odran said and raised a finger at him. “Though, you will stop poking women in the woods that you don’t know.”
“That you have my word on,” Finch said.
Odran crossed his arms over his chest. “You know I cannot let your foolish mistake go unpunished.”
Finch gave a quick nod. “Aye, I do.”
It troubled Odran to do it, it would be like a demoralizing slap in the face to Finch, but it was necessary or he would lose the respect of his warriors. “Stiles remains in the position you once held and you will fill his position.”
“Aye, my lord,” Finch said with difficulty.
“Go see what chore Stiles has for you.”
Finch bobbed his head, it sagging low as he walked away.
Odran held his hand out, hearing the light footfalls after the door to the keep opened. He closed his hand around his wife’s small one as soon as she took hold.
“Everything is all right with Crissa?” she asked, her glance going to Finch.
“Aye, she will be looked after.”
“There were some who wanted to see her hang for what she did,” Elysia said.
“That only would have worsened the situation with her clan and her madness is her brutal father’s fault not hers. Hopefully she can find peace at the abbey. Now tell me how my da does today.”
“Remarkably well as does your mum. It does her good caring for him and it does him good to see his wife begin to live again.”
“My lord,” Stiles called out, hurrying his steps toward them.
Elysia squeezed her husband’s hand, the troubled look in Stiles’ eyes warning the news was not good.
“Word just came. A group of mercenaries attacked one of our farms near our northern border and slaughtered all. I sent two trackers ahead to collect information.”
Elysia pressed against her husband’s side, fearful that he would join his men and battle the mercenaries.
“Gather half the men. Finch is to remain here and protect the clan. We leave shortly,” Odran ordered and turned to face his wife, aware of what he would see in her eyes—fear. “I have no choice. I must go. If I send only my warriors to face the mercenaries, I will be thought a coward and more will come, more will be slaughtered. My response must be swift and deadly to make sure this doesn’t happen again. Rory and Finch will watch over you and keep you safe.”
“It could be a trap,” she cautioned.
“Aye, it could be, but the trackers will alert me beforehand. I do not ride into situations without knowing what awaits me.” He took her in his arms. “What worries me most is yours and our bairn’s safety. Promise me you will not take any chances that you will make certain either Rory or Finch are with you wherever you go.”
“You have my word, husband. I will not be foolish.” She went up on her toes to seal her word with a quick kiss.
Elysia wondered if sleep would ever find her this night. The bed was far too empty without her husband there beside her. She missed sleeping cuddled against him, the warmth of his body, and the strength of his arms around her. Mostly though, she worried he wouldn’t return to her, that he would fall in battle or to a trap.
Rory had assured her that her husband was far too skilled a warrior to let anything happen to him, and that he would return home soon. Finch said the same. She wanted to believe both men, but skilled warriors still fell in battle and worry continued to plague her.
She turned on her side, grabbed her husband’s pillow, and buried her face in it, hugging it tight. His familiar woodsy scent settled around her and she closed her eyes willing herself to sleep.
Elysia didn’t know what woke her, the pop of the fire, or a chill that snuck into her. She hadn’t slept long, the fire still burning bright. Something had her sitting up in bed and glancing around the room. It wasn’t that she expected to see anyone there in the room with her, it was more that something poked at her. Something she needed to recall.