Time seemed to stand still as Corinne’s eyes met Reid’s. She understood what he intended for her to do, yet her heart screamed that she couldn’t.

He meant for her to break free, to get herself to safety somehow—without making a plan for himself. He was sacrificing himself for her.

Just as time had ground to a halt, suddenly it leapt forward and everything raced at a terrifying speed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the MacVale archer lift his bow. On the wall, Fillan raised his arm, and all at once the battlements bristled with more than a score of arrows—all drawn and aimed at their little group at the base of the keep.

“Now!” Reid’s shout tore through her mind. There was no more time to think, to fear. Only to act.

She sank her teeth into Mungo’s arm so hard that her mouth filled with his blood. He roared in pain, swatting her away with such force that she went sailing from the horse’s back.

She landed several feet away, the air slamming from her lungs at the impact. The layer of snow had likely saved her from a broken neck, yet her body screamed in agony as she struggled to draw a breath.

“Run, Corinne!” Reid shouted somewhere behind her.

Just then, she heard the thunk of bowstrings snapping, and the whir of nearly two dozen arrows slicing through the air—right at her.

She staggered to her feet as the arrows began to rain down all around them. Several made contact with the MacVale warriors loyal to Serlon, while others sank into the snow.

But when she scanned the chaos for Reid, her heart squeezed as if crushed by a fist.

He’d dragged himself to his feet, his hands still tied behind him. Arrows hailed all around him, blackening the air as they fell with deadly impact.

Part of her mind screamed at her to run, to do as Reid had said and get herself away. Yet another part irrationally tried to tug her through the storm of arrows toward Reid.

“Corinne!” he shouted again, and then he was running for her.

Heedless of the falling arrows, he bolted straight at her. Blood poured from his left calf where Serlon had cut him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t slow as he drew nearer. Instead, he plowed right into her, bringing them both to the ground and sending the air from her lungs once more.

He hunched over her, using his body as a shield as the arrows continued to shower down all around them, driving with muffled thumps into the snow. Distantly, she heard men’s screams as they were hit, then the muted thuds of their bodies hitting the ground.

Slowly, the arrows stopped and an eerie silence fell, broken only by Reid’s breath in her ear. Even when she heard the creak of the keep’s gates and the groan of the portcullis being raised, Reid remained motionless above her, protecting her with naught but his unarmored back.

“Laird Mackenzie.” Distantly, she recognized Fillan’s voice as he approached slowly from behind them.

At last, Reid lifted his head and rose to his knees, but he still positioned himself between Corinne and the MacVales that approached from the keep.

Fillan limped before a group of a dozen warriors, his foot dragging in the snow. He gripped a wooden cane in one hand, but when Reid stood before Corinne, Fillan held up his other hand to show that he bore no weapon.

“Free their hands,” he ordered one of the men behind him.

A MacVale approached cautiously, holding a dagger with its tip upward to show he meant no harm.

Grudgingly, Reid turned his shoulders but kept his narrowed gaze on the MacVale as he sawed through the rope binding his hands behind his back. When he was free, he snatched the dagger and cut Corinne’s bindings himself.

“I ken ye dinnae trust us, and rightly so,” Fillan said, coming to a halt several paces away. “But we mean ye no harm. In fact, I plan to work hard to undo the sins of my father. And it begins here.”

To Corinne’s shock, Fillan awkwardly lowered himself to his knees before them, clutching his cane to steady himself.

“I must beg yer forgiveness, Lady Corinne. I was the one who wrote ye those missives, pretending to be Brother Michael to lure ye from safety.”

Corinne sucked in a breath. “Why?”

Fillan bowed his dark head. “My father forced me to copy down his words. That isnae an excuse for all he did to ye, though—and my part in it.”

This close, Corinne now saw the shadow of bruises on Fillan’s youthful face. Some had faded to yellow, while others were dark purple.

She knew what it meant to be hurt by someone who was supposed to love her, what it was like to be bent to another’s will by pain and force. Her father had terrorized her just as surely as Serlon had apparently terrorized Fillan.

“I forgive you,” she said, meeting Fillan’s surprised eyes when he lifted his head.

“My forgiveness willnae be so easily won,” Reid bit out, staring at Fillan. “Explain yerself.”

Fillan pulled himself to standing by his cane. “It is as I told my father. He let his quest for war blind him to the hardships his people struggled under. Many of our men have ceased farming over the years, relying on reiving for sheep and cattle or stealing MacDonnell grain. But when they could not steal, we starved.”

Several of the men behind Fillan nodded.

“Besides the few warriors that my father favored, our people grew weak—and no’ just from lack of food. We have been isolated these long years, without an ally or friend, and no’ even loyal to the King. My father believed that might made right, that only our warriors’ strength mattered. He forgot that a clan needs more than swords to live on—it needs hope, and pride, and honor.”

“Aye,” the MacVale warriors murmured.

“While my father turned a blind eye to his people, I have worked to sow new seeds—that the MacVale name can be carried proudly in the future, but only if we change.” Fillan lifted one slim shoulder. “While he was away reaping war and hurting innocents,” he said, nodding toward Corinne, “I told the clan the time to act was now. They agreed.”

He leveled Reid with his keen, intelligent gaze. “Now I can only hope to convince ye of the same, Laird Mackenzie. What my father did should by rights put the Mackenzies at war with the MacVales. Yet I would beg ye to give us a chance to prove that we dinnae have to follow the path Serlon MacVale set us on.”

Reid opened his mouth, but just as he was about to speak, Corinne felt the ground begin to rumble beneath her boots.

A voice rose from the battlements. “MacDonnells approach!”