Maira rode back to the castle as fast as she could, trying to keep Ricker quiet, but he kept crying. As she neared the end of the forest path, she was sure she heard hoofbeats following her. Glancing over her shoulder she could see two riders in the distance. Although she couldn’t see them well, she was sure neither of them were Jacob. They wore dark cloaks and their heads were covered. As far as she knew, they could be bandits. With the boy’s crying there would be no way to even hide.

She reached back for her sword to protect the child but, to her horror, it was missing. That’s when she remembered that she had been so upset with Jacob that she left it back at his hidden camp. Well, there was no way she could retrieve it now. The sun had already set, and nightfall was upon her. The bandits were on her tail. There was nothing else she could do but to ride faster and get back to the castle before they caught up with her.

“Hold on to your doggie,” she told Ricker, speaking of the carved wolf Jacob had made for him. Her arm closed around the boy tightly and she rode as fast as she could until she exited the woods. Glancing back, she was relieved to no longer see the riders. Entering the courtyard through the front gate, she didn’t waste time trying to sneak in without being seen. Since the High Sheriff had yet to return, it didn’t really matter.

“My lady,” said Alf, rushing over to take the reins of her horse. Quickly, Maira slid off the horse with Ricker in her arms.

“If any of the guards ask where I’ve been, tell them I was taking Ricker for a ride through the fields to make him stop crying,” Maira instructed.

“Aye, my lady.” Alf took her horse to the stable while Maira hurried to the keep with Ricker in her embrace. When she entered the kitchen, she found Cleo and Tommy and the rest of the kitchen servants cleaning up the mess from the last meal.

“Lady Maira.” Cleo dried her hands on a towel and threw it down. She rushed over and took the boy from her. “We were all getting worried about you. Some of the High Sheriff’s guards were asking why you weren’t at the main meal.”

“Well, I’m back now.”

“Lady Maira, your sword is missing,” said Tommy pointing to the empty sheath on her back.

“Aye, it is,” she answered. “Cleo, can you give Ricker something to eat?”

“Of course, my lady. Did you want me to keep him in my room off the kitchen tonight? He likes to play with the kittens that sleep on my bed.”

“Thank you, I would like that,” said Maira with a quick nod of her head.

“Can I fix you something to eat? There are a few leftovers.”

“Thank you, but I’m not hungry, just tired,” said Maira, leaving the kitchen and heading straight to her chamber. When she entered the room, she lit a candle and collapsed atop the bed. Then, being able to hold back her emotions no longer, she cried. Why had she not agreed to marry Jacob? Part of her wanted to be his wife. But another part of her feared what the High Sheriff would do to her or him when he found out. Not to mention, she feared what her father and the earl would say if they found out she married an excommunicated man who had been stripped of his title and had no castle or land to his name.

Maira had always thought of herself as a warrior. She had the natural instinct to want to protect those she loved and didn’t think anything could frighten her. But today was different. Today, she felt shaken and unsure of herself and feared every little thing. It wasn’t a good feeling because it made her weak. Crying into the pillow, exhausted, Maira drifted off to sleep. It wasn’t long before she started dreaming of her late mentor, Imanie, once again.

“Maira, why on earth are you crying?” asked Imanie.

Maira dried her eyes, happy to see her mentor once again. She needed to talk to someone right now and perhaps Imanie’s wisdom could guide her.

“I’m frightened, Imanie. I’ve never felt this way before.”

The old woman cocked her head and looked at Maira with one eye closed. “This doesn’t sound like you, Maira. You were always the strongest of the cousins. I’ve never known you to cry before. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Everything is different since I met Jacob,” she told the old woman with a sniffle.

“How so?”

“He wants to marry me, Imanie.”

“And that made you cry?”

“Nay. I was crying because I never gave him an answer. I left him so quickly that I even forgot my sword.”

“Ah,” said Imanie with a chuckle. “I see it all clearly now.”

“What do you see? Tell me.”

“Only one thing could make you drop your tough exterior and cry like a babe in the seclusion of your chamber. You are in love with the man.”

“In love?” Maira sat up. “I don’t understand. Love wouldn’t make me frightened and make me cry.”

“Any man who can break that hardened exterior of yours enough that you left your sword behind must have some tremendous power over you. I’ve never known you to accidentally forget your weapon. Your blade is the thing that means the most to you.”

“Aye,” said Maira, calming enough to see things clearly now. “I thought my weapons meant the most to me, but now I’m not so sure.”

“I saw you with little Ricker in your arms. You have a natural ability to always want to protect others. Even without your sword, you saw to protect the boy with no thought of yourself.”

“I want to protect Jacob as well,” she answered, rubbing her eyes. “But I don’t know how to do that.”

“Well, I don’t think leaving him in the woods down on a bended knee giving his heart to you as you rode away is a way to protect him, do you?”

“Nay, I suppose it isn’t.” Maira thought of her actions and now regretted it. “I think I made a mistake, Imanie.”

“Do what your heart, not your head tells you, Maira. That is the only way to be true to yourself. That is what makes a person strong.”

“You’re right, Imanie. Thank you for talking with me. I think I know now what I need to do.”

She was pulled out of her dream when the door to her room burst open with a loud bang against the wall. Her eyes sprang open in alarm and she jumped off the bed, grabbing her dagger that was still attached to her waist belt. Her reactions were those of a warrior, always ready to defend. Steadily, she held the dagger out in front of her with both hands.

“Who goes there?” she shouted, no longer feeling frightened. The blood coursing through her made her feel brave and alive, just like it should be.

The silhouette of a woman stood in the doorway holding a lit candle. The woman brought the candle closer to her face for Maira to see her identity.

“Maira, it’s me, Morag,” said the girl, stepping into the room.

“Morag!” Maira dropped her dagger atop the bed and sighed a breath of relief. Rushing across the floor, she threw her arms around Morag in a big hug.

“Ye sure seem happy to see me, Cousin.” Maira’s action seemed to baffle Morag. Maira wasn’t one to normally hug anyone.

“You have no idea how happy I am,” explained Maira. “Where is Father?” She glanced out the door, scanning the darkened corridor. “You sure made good time. I didn’t expect to see Father for at least another few days.”

“I’m here with Branton only,” Morag explained. “He took our wagon to the stable.”

“Branton?” Maira’s brows dipped and she started to get the feeling something was wrong. “Wasn’t my father at Whitehaven?”

“I dinna ken,” Morag told her as Maira released her from the hug. “We never made it to Rothbury so I never had the chance to send a messenger to Whitehaven.”

“What do you mean?” asked Maira in a low voice, feeling suddenly cold. “The plan was that you and Branton were to send a messenger to find Father and bring him back here to help me escape the wretched High Sheriff.”

“Maira, we met up with ruffians on the road and had to turn back. Thank the Heaven’s there were only two of them. Branton bravely fought them both off, and left them in a heap on the road.”

“He did?” Suddenly, Maira felt as if she was being insensitive. The closer she looked at Morag, the more it verified that there had, indeed, been a struggle. Morag’s gown was dirty and torn. Her hair was loose and disheveled. Morag always cared about her appearance, almost as much as their finicky cousin, Willow. She wouldn’t be walking around looking like this unless something was amiss.

“We had to throw our trunks off the cart so we could make better time,” Morag told her. “Oh, Maira, I was so frightened. I wished ye had been there to protect me.” Morag fell into Maira’s arms, almost dropping the candle. She wept bitterly, making Maira feel as if she had failed at doing the only thing at which she excelled. She should have been there to protect Morag and she wasn’t. Now, she realized it had been selfish and foolish to send her cousin on a trip with just a young boy along for protection. At the time, Maira thought she was protecting her by sending her away. But now, she realized her mistake. She should have kept Morag near and paid close attention to her safety. Her foolish mistake almost got her cousin killed.

“I’m so sorry,” said Maira, wrapping her arm around the girl’s shoulders and leading her to the bed. “Now give me that candle and lie down and get a good night’s rest. Everything is fine and, in the morning, things will be even better.”

“It is nearly mornin’ now,” said Morag with a yawn. “Maira, we traveled for days. I swear I didna get any shut eye at all because I was so afeared. If ye had been with us, I wouldna have had to worry.”

“Stay here and sleep,” she told Morag. “I had no idea it was already so close to morning. When I return, I’ll bring you some food and wine.”

“Return? Where are ye goin’?” asked Morag with another yawn. “Maira, please dinna leave me.”

“I know you’re tired but there is something important I must do.”

“What could ye need to do that is more important than stayin’ with yer cousin in her time of need?”

Maira sighed. She couldn’t leave without explaining things to Morag. She’d always been the protector of the four cousins and she wouldn’t let the girl down. “I need to talk to someone, Morag. It’s something very important. Can I trust you with a secret?”

“Secret?” Morag’s half-closed lids sprang open wide and she sat up straight in bed. “Maira, ye are goin’ to tell me a secret? Aye, I’d like to ken.”

It was probably a mistake to tell Morag anything since she had already proven she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. But Maira was distraught and had no one else to confide in besides the servants. What she had to say was something that only another girl her age could possibly understand.

“I am going to the woods to retrieve my sword. And I am also going there to meet Jacob. I will need you to help Cleo watch Ricker until I return.”

“Jacob? The thief?” gasped Morag.

“Aye, Morag. But he is not a thief. Not really. He is a nobleman who has lost everything because of the High Sheriff.”

“So why are you goin’ to see him? It is dangerous to be sneakin’ out into the woods to meet with a common thief.”

“Please don’t call Jacob a thief again.”

“Well, that is what he is. Or did ye already forget that he stole weapons from Rothbury?”

“Nay, Morag, I didn’t forget. But you mustn’t forget that he is a man. A nobleman who doesn’t deserve what he got. I am going to the woods to not only meet him, but also to marry him.”