By the next morn, Ilisa had changed her mind. The mission was completely impossible. Especially with people such as Lady Gideon among the guests. Ilisa could only stare in disbelief at her latest outrageous statement.

“Oh, please.” The woman in question, the wife of a lord from Galloway, dismissed Ilisa’s shock with a wave of her hand. A hand that hadn’t had to lift more than a morsel of food in her entire life from what she’d told Ilisa and the other ladies. “Everyone knows Sir William Douglas opened the gates of Berwick to let in King Edward. The only mystery is why.”

Ilisa had done her best to ignore her snide comments last evening when everyone had gathered around the roaring bonfire in the outer bailey. The evening had been pleasant thanks to Braden, though they hadn’t discovered anything of interest. She’d smiled until her cheeks hurt.

This day had begun well enough. Then again, any morn she woke next to Braden made for a fine beginning. But all too soon, they’d stepped out of the cozy privacy of their tent into the bailey where she felt as if they were once again on display.

The morn had quickly spiraled downward soon after Lord and Lady Gideon had joined them. Unfortunately, Braden and Lord Gideon stepped away to speak with the other men, leaving Ilisa with the ladies.

When Lady Gideon learned Ilisa didn’t live far from Berwick, she’d raised the topic of the siege.

Her comment crossed the line of what was bearable to Ilisa. She couldn’t allow the accusation to pass nor could she protest vehemently. Who did the woman think she was to spread such rumors?

“I have to disagree,” Ilisa said with a lift of her chin. She didn’t care if she was supposed to be Lady Cairstine. No one insulted her brother. “What purpose would it serve? I heard the gate was opened because of English trickery. That they carried Scottish banners and those manning the gates believed them to be reinforcements coming to their aid.”

“I heard that as well,” one of the other ladies commented. “I suppose we’ll never know for certain. Not with Sir William locked away in some English keep.”

“Funny how those who win the day have a different version of events than those who lost,” Lady Gideon said.

“Since so many lost their lives in Berwick—men, women, and children alike—we must look to the future rather than the past and do all we can to make certain it never happens again.” Ilisa stopped herself from adding that was the reason she was here—to do all she could to avoid such a terrible fate.

Lady Gideon pursed her lips but said nothing more on the topic.

As quickly as possible, Ilisa made her excuses and left the group, blinking back tears as she walked away. Her first impulse was to seek Braden.

Nay. That was a terrible idea.

She needed to find a quiet place, somewhere away from watchful eyes, false smiles, and meaningless conversation. To think that even one person believed William had simply opened the gates hurt more than she could explain.

If only she could return home. Yet she couldn’t. Her home wasn’t safe. But the idea of putting up with people like Lady Gideon felt...

“Impossible,” Ilisa muttered to herself as she walked past the blacksmith who hammered at his forge, holding a glowing piece of metal with tongs. She didn’t think she could endure a sennight of this.

Braden had far more patience with people than she. Obviously, she was better suited for St. Mary’s. She refused to acknowledge the hollow feeling that swept through her at the thought of taking her vows. Being with Braden caused her to question her decision. But when Sophia, Garrick, and Chanse returned, Braden would leave with them now that he’d recovered. Alec would go as well. She couldn’t risk becoming dependent on the knight. This mission was temporary—as was her time with him—nothing more.

A brief time alone would surely settle her nerves. But finding such a place in this busy holding would be difficult. The bustling village within the walls of the bailey meant people were passing by continually.

Left with few options, she headed toward the stables before tears got the better of her. Explaining them would be difficult as Cairstine had no ties to Berwick or what had happened there.

A few lads were hard at work, mucking out stalls and seeing to the horses. Ilisa paid them no mind, aware Alec was with Braden at the moment. She moved toward her mare’s stall, appreciating the warm welcome the horse offered. Its gentle eyes and soft nose, the ears that pricked forward at her arrival, did much to ease Ilisa’s troubled heart.

“She’s beautiful.”

Ilisa turned in surprise at the feminine voice. She’d thought she’d left all the other ladies in the bailey. A young woman stood in the shadows near one of the other stalls.

“Aye,” Ilisa agreed, sniffing to hold back the tears. “She has an excellent disposition as well.”

“I noticed her earlier.” The woman stepped forward into the dim light, and Ilisa realized she must be near Ilisa’s own age though she didn’t recognize her from the guests she’d met. Her homespun brown kirtle and plaited dark hair pulled forward over one shoulder suggested she might be one of the villagers. “She’s very friendly.”

“I’m pleased to hear she didn’t misbehave when I wasn’t here to remind her of her manners.”

The woman smiled as she drew nearer. Attractive but a little shy, something about her brought out Ilisa’s sympathy. Her dark eyes held Ilisa’s for a moment, as though taking her measure.

The horse nudged Ilisa, making both women chuckle. “Demanding, aren’t we?” Ilisa asked, rubbing the mare’s nose once again. “Always wanting more attention.”

“You’re one of the guests here for the...celebration?” the woman asked.

“Aye. And you?”

“I live here.” She didn’t appear pleased.

“I needed a moment away from the crowd,” Ilisa said, not certain what caused her to admit that.

“’Tis a bit much, aye? All the people. All the chatter.” She shook her head. “The stables are one of my favorite places to escape. Quiet and peaceful.” She reached out a hand to stroke the horse’s neck. “The occupants in here are so pleased to see you each and every visit.”

“No one judging you on what you say or do.” Ilisa bit her lip, afraid she said too much.

“Or what you wear.”

Ilisa let out a relieved breath. “Exactly. Not that the gathering isn’t grand.” She didn’t want to sound ungrateful. This woman might be one of those who’d helped prepare for the festivities. She didn’t want to offend the one person she’d spoken to that she actually liked.

“Right. Grand.” The woman sighed. “I’m afraid I prefer horses over people. They’re much less complicated.”

“Another point on which we agree.” Ilisa turned at the sound of male voices approaching. “It appears as if our quiet is already coming to an end.”

The woman hesitated a moment then turned to face Ilisa. “I know of a place we could sit a short distance from the gathering if you’ve of a mind to.”

“That would be lovely. I shouldn’t be gone overlong, but a brief time away would be nice.”

“This way then. ’Tisn’t far.” She led the way out of the back of the stables through a narrow doorway Ilisa hadn’t realized was there.

“I hope I’m not keeping you from your duties,” Ilisa said as they walked.

“I’ve finished most of my chores. A brief rest will cause no harm.” She smiled at Ilisa. “I’m Bela.”

“Such a pleasure to meet you.” Ilisa hesitated, tempted to give her real name. But nay. The risk was too great, even with a villager. “I’m called Cairstine.” At least that wasn’t a complete lie. She was called Cairstine—while she was here. “Thank you for sharing this place with me.”

The path they followed skirted the edge of the village and led to steps set against the castle wall. The sounds of the busy village were muffled here.

Bela climbed the steps to the top of the wall and Ilisa followed. “This spot is hidden from the guards. I think ’tis lovely here, a good thinking spot.”

Ilisa joined her on the walkway that ran the length of the wall where it was wide enough to sit. “The view is wonderful.” The village was blocked by a small copse of trees, and the rolling hills outside the keep spread as far as the horizon, giving the impression of solitude. “Have you lived here all your life?”

“Aye. I’ve never been farther than the next village. What of you? Where do you call home?”

The lie she’d spoken so many times since their arrival faltered on her lips. Yet she forced it out. Despite her instincts telling her she may have found a friend, who knew if Bela could be trusted? The risk was too great. “We live not far from the English border.”

“Have you been to Berwick? I’ve heard ’tis pretty there along the river Tweed.”

“Aye. ’Tis true. The city sits in the bend of the river, and the keep is high on the rise above. The market there brings in people from all over the world.”

Bela shook her head. “I can’t imagine. One must hear so many different accents and languages spoken there. Someday, I’d like to see it. And England too.” A stubborn set to her mouth had Ilisa wondering if she’d been forbidden from traveling or if the idea of going to England was the problem.

Many in Scotland considered the English their sworn enemies, but several times throughout the centuries, Berwick had been part of England. A line on a map didn’t change the people who lived in the city. Only people could do that. Time would tell what would happen in Berwick. Ilisa only wanted peace.

Some villagers never ventured beyond their own village. Travel of any sort was difficult, let alone for long distances. Only the wealthy and merchants wishing to sell their goods ventured beyond their home.

Bela’s voice held the mark of Scotland, but her word choice suggested she was more than a maidservant. Mayhap a merchant’s daughter. Then why hadn’t she traveled more? Though curious, Ilisa kept her questions to herself since she preferred not to answer any. The idea of lying to the woman who’d been so kind thus far didn’t sit well with Ilisa.

Instead, they spoke of inconsequential things, from the weather to the merits of raising sheep to using raspberries in wine. Bela was knowledgeable in many areas, but that puzzled Ilisa even more as to where she fit in at Graham’s holding.

After a brief respite, Ilisa sighed, realizing she needed to return before Braden began to worry over her absence. “I should return to the bailey before my...husband declares me missing.”

Bela rose. “And I must return to my duties, but I’ve enjoyed our visit.”

“As have I. I hope we have the chance to do so again.”

A shadow passed over Bela’s expression, dimming her smile. “I fear the festivities will take much of my time, but if we are able to do so, I’d enjoy it.”

After climbing down the stairs on the inner side of the wall, Bela directed Ilisa as to which path would return her to the outer bailey, bid her good day, then turned to walk in a different direction.

The young woman was lovely, both inside and out. Though Ilisa hadn’t ventured far either, she’d certainly done more than Bela. She hoped the woman had the chance to do so as she clearly longed to see the view beyond Graham’s holding.

If only the other people she’d met were as pleasant to speak with as Bela, the party would be much more enjoyable.

Now she needed to find a way to stay on the opposite side of the bailey as Lady Gideon else she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions.

 

~*~

 

Braden was on the verge of panic. Ilisa had been gone far too long. He knew Lady Gideon had upset her earlier as he’d caught sight of her determined stride away from the tents but hadn’t been able to disengage himself from those to whom he spoke.

Something about the lady set off Ilisa. Not so different than Sir Matthew did to him. Whether the knight meant to be offensive, Braden didn’t know, but his remarks irritated Braden to no end. His overconfidence along with his smirk made Braden want to punch him just to remove it. How Ilisa could like the man, Braden didn’t understand.

He pondered his options of where to search for her when she entered the bailey. He strode toward her, doing his best to hide his concern. “Where have you been?”

She took his arm despite the fact that he hadn’t thought to offer it, easing the tightness in his chest. “Sitting on the castle wall enjoying the view with a lovely young woman named Bela.”

Puzzled, he waited, assuming there would be more to her explanation, but she offered nothing further. “I was beginning to worry.”

“My apologies. I needed some time away from everyone. I’m afraid I allowed Lady Gideon to gain the best of me.” She glanced about to make sure no one overheard her. “She insists my brother opened the gates of Berwick to allow King Edward entrance.”

Sympathy filled him. He wouldn’t take kindly to anyone criticizing Chanse either without being able to defend him. “I don’t understand why anyone believes that.” He shook his head. “It makes no sense. Your brother wouldn’t have knowingly endangered the people of Berwick.”

She stared at him in surprise.

“What?”

“I appreciate your confidence in my brother and his actions. ’Tis nice to have someone believe in him for a change.”

He frowned. “That woman needs to hold her tongue. She obviously has too much idle time on her hands.”

“It took all my fortitude not to call her crazed,” Ilisa said with a huff.

“That speaks highly of your devotion to our purpose here.”

“I’m sorry I worried you. I just needed time to collect my thoughts.”

“Who is this Bela you spoke with?”

“A villager, I think. She approached me in the stables when I was visiting my mare.”

He smiled at her. “So I’m not the only one who talks to my horse.”

“I admit it,” Ilisa said, returning his smile. “’Tis just that she’s always so pleased to see me.”

“Exactly.” That was one more thing they had in common.

“Bela was kind. ’Twas pleasant to have a conversation where I didn’t feel as if I had to raise the subject of Lord Graham.”

“She probably wouldn’t know of his plans to commit murder and stir up trouble, though I suppose one never knows. If she is a maidservant in the keep, she might have overheard a conversation or two.”

“I didn’t think of that.” She sighed. “Very well. If I see her again, I’ll attempt to work that into our conversation.” She paused and held his gaze. “How are you faring?”

The genuine concern in her expression warmed his heart. “There are many places I’d rather be and people I’d prefer to be with, but all issues considered, all is well.”

“Your shoulder?”

“A bit stiff but continuing to improve.”

She glanced around the bailey. “Have you heard anything of interest? Anyone you would make a priority to question?”

“Sir Matthew,” Braden offered without hesitation.

She turned to him in surprise. “Truly? I found him likeable. ’Tis Monroe who unsettles me.”

Braden scowled. He much preferred it when they agreed. No matter. He didn’t intend to trust anyone while they were here. He knew all too well what it was like to believe in someone only to have them betray you. Though he cared for Ilisa and valued her opinion, he needed to rely on himself first.

“We shall keep an eye on them both for now,” he said.

Ilisa was as temporary in his life as Scotland. When the mission was over, he’d be returning home and putting both far behind him.

For the first time, he realized how mixed his feelings were about that. Whether it was because of Ilisa or his concern for events here, he didn’t know. Nor did it matter, he told himself.

 

~*~

 

Lord James Graham sat in the great hall with the Earl of Rothton. James didn’t look forward to this conversation, for he feared the earl might lose his enthusiasm for their quest when he learned of the lack of progress made thus far. Mayhap James could ease into the conversation.

“Any news on the plans?” Rothton asked.

James nearly sighed. Trust the earl to get directly to the point. “No resolution has yet been seen.”

“You said you could easily take care of the situation.”

James glanced about. “Keep your voice down. Ears are everywhere.”

“Then you should tend to your holding better.”

“My people are trustworthy.” James reminded himself to hold back his temper. The earl was one of the few who were as supportive of the Sentinels as he. Well, almost as supportive. The man had handed over coins quick enough but had yet to put his own neck on the line. “However, this information is private. And I’d remind you that many guests wander my holding.”

“Aye. Seems far too risky to me to fill your home with strangers, considering all that is happening.”

“’Tis risky indeed. However, I’m anxious to see my daughter, Arabela settled.” He waited to see if the earl understood the full meaning of his words.

“Married?” The earl raised one bushy brow. “To someone in particular?”

“Wouldn’t it be interesting if she were to marry the future King of Scotland?” James kept his voice to a whisper but couldn’t hold back his smile. He was delighted with his plan and wanted the earl to understand its perfection as well.

“And who would that be?” The earl leaned back to sip his ale, not nearly as excited as James had hoped. “Last I heard, there was no true heir to the throne.”

“But if the right person were to emerge and prove themselves worthy, then marry into a strong family with the right connections, all of Scotland could be convinced that the obvious person to lead our country has come forth.”

The earl considered him for a long moment. “Are you certain this plan isn’t more about placing you in a position of power?”

James slammed his fist on the table, only to realize too late he was drawing unwanted attention from the few servants passing through the great hall. “This is not about me. If I wanted the throne for myself, I would take it.”

The earl stared, his disbelief obvious. “For certain. No doubt ’tis yours if you only reach out for it.”

James pushed back his pride. The earl was right. Taking the throne would be no easy task, nor was it one he welcomed. Such battles were better left to the next generation. But he knew he had royal blood. While it might be diluted, it remained all the same.

If his daughter married the right man—or rather, when she did, the foundation would be set. He intended to build it during this gathering. A few hints here and there of Arabela’s lineage and the seeds would be planted. “Do you have a better idea of how to place the person we pick on the throne?”

“Nay, but Robert the Bruce might.”

“His claim to the Scottish throne is muddied by his quarrels with John Comyn and the others. They’ll never agree who amongst them should rule, nor do they share the same ideals as we do.”

The earl nodded reluctantly. “I see your point. This could be what we need to move events in the proper direction. Who is the man you see in this role?”

“Several candidates have caught my interest. Which one will be determined by the end of this gathering.” He held the earl’s gaze. “I am hoping you will offer your opinion as well.”

Interest lit the older man’s eyes. “My opinion would hold weight?”

“Of course. I would be honored to have your thoughts.”

“What of the others in our...group? Will they have a vote as well?”

“Aye. If we can all agree on the right man, then we have an even higher chance of success. Don’t you agree?”

The earl’s gaze held on the fire before a smile turned the corner of his mouth upward. “The Sentinels will choose the next king and queen of our country. That is more than I ever hoped for when we began this mission.”

James sat back, relieved to have his agreement.

“What of those with English ties? Will we continue our work there?”

“Absolutely.” James was most anxious to see the end of Sir William’s family. Revenge was long overdue. And if eliminating others with English ties sent a clear message to those tempted to oppose the Sentinels, all the better.