Page 6 of My Highland Bride

Gille laughs at my silent coaching, but Bradyn squares his shoulders and edges his way toward the rim of the barrel. I beam at Gille as if the boy were my own.

“He’s a long way from knighthood,” he comments, “and a Highlander he’ll never be.”

I shrug. “Highlander. Lowlander. Voyager. Southerner. What does it matter?”

As two groups of men greet each other, their mood jubilant, so different from the tense atmosphere in the capital, Gille looks at me as if I’d just admitted to secretly being a Shadow Warrior.

“Have you never met a Merian you respected? A Voyager whom you trust? A Lowlander you might marry?”

I know the truth of that last one. Gille is unable to deny it.

“Of course. But that is a far cry from claiming it does not matter. You may wish it were not so, but you’ve been at the capital long enough to know otherwise.”

Silence descends between us for a moment. He’s right, and we both know it.

“So will you speak with him today?” he asks again.

I look toward the other edge of the camp, where Moray’s flag billows in the wind. It’s the only fully black one on the field, which makes it easy to distinguish.

He attends with his daughter and son, I’ve learned, though the son arrived separately. They say he has been traveling the Isle, though for what purpose none could say for certain. I’ve also learned Moray has not changed much in the time I’ve been away from home.

As always, he cares for one thing above all else.

His family.

Not the queen. Or the church. Or even his fellow Highlanders, whom he holds so dear. Nay, his highest loyalty is to the wife he married for love, the son he indulges, and the daughter he dotes on, even more so after losing poor Fara.

That was a dark day, for certain.

I was serving the queen as her personal guard when word of the poor girl’s fate reached me in a letter from my mother. The fissure between our families meant I hadn’t seen Moray or his girls for many years, but I felt their loss keenly. Fara’s funeral marked the first time my father had spoken to Moray since the obstinate Highland lord had refused to support us in a battle that saw too many of our own men killed.

My father vowed never to forgive his neighbor for failing to send men to the Battle of Hendrelds Hill, and likely he never would. What started as a feud between two Highland families escalated when the king became involved, sending his own men to aid Lord Lemet’s claim of land against Lord Carlsham. My father refused to battle against the king, even though he’d been an ally of both families and previously refused to enter the fight. As Moray had done.

Some said if Moray had sent men, Carlsham would have been quickly overwhelmed and surrendered. Instead, the battle became Edingham’s bloodiest internal fight in our history, the fissures on both sides felt to this day.

Yet I was tasked with gaining support from that very man. If I thought being sent to Murwood End to gather support from the Voyagers in an attack on Meria was difficult, this would be even more so.

And it likely would have the same outcome.

“I will offer to fight for him,” I say, proud of the solution I’d decided on this morn.

Each year a random draw saw two leaders chosen. All previous champions of the tourney had been guaranteed to fight on the side of their choice. All others would display their prowess in a series of activities, which would result in them being chosen for one side or the other . . . or eliminated from the competition altogether.

Some men had made their fortunes at such events, captured knights on both sides being ransomed for horses and riches and additional fees for recovered weapons.

“Aye.”

And like him, I am one of only a handful of men who has been crowned champion of this tourney more than once. There is a reason for it, and Moray would do well to have me on his side. He may not agree with my father or the queen, but he very much likes to win.

I suspect negotiations will go easier if we fight, at least for one day, for the same cause.

“I believe the queen was jesting when she told you to return as champion. Do you think she meant for us to stay here until the end of the tourney?”

It would be a sennight until the melee. A sennight away from the capital, not knowing what was happening back home.

“It does not matter. My charge was to get Moray’s support, and I will do that any way I’m able.”

“Including fighting in the melee?”