Gordon's first inkling that something wasn't quite right was when Matthew Pasan stumbled into the pub, bleeding from head to toe.  The assassin never got hurt.  Ever. 

"What the hell happened out there, Pasan?" Gordon ground out.

Matthew's response was to pitch forward against the bar and slide down into the blood that was pooling at his feet.  Gordon swore under his breath as he strode over to his friend. 

"You wanna know what happened, Chief?"

Gordon looked toward the entrance of the pub.  His brother, Joshua, stood there, dagger dangling loose in his right hand, blood splatter all over his clothes.  

"Aye.  I want to know."  Gordon's gaze narrowed. 

Joshua shook his head as he trod heavy footed into the pub.  "We were ambushed.  Henry's men came outta nowhere."  He nodded to Matthew who wasn't moving.  "Matty got caught in the middle.  Couldn't get to him in time."

Gordon cursed some more as he crouched down next to the assassin, reaching out to push his hair from his face.  

There was no light in Matthew's dark eyes.  He was already gone.  

Gordon drew his eyelids shut and then sat back on his heels with a grunt. 

"So, what do we do now, Chief?" Joshua asked in a low voice.

Gordon dragged tense fingers through his hair before answering.  "We hit back.  Hard." He stood and glowered at the men who filled the pub.  "I will not let this go without a fight." He ground his teeth together before continuing.  "Are we not Rebels of Scotland? We will end this on our terms.  Not on that bleeding heart royal's." He pointed at each man who stood there, leaning in to listen to his words.  "I know that each one of you is capable.  I know each one of you wants this to work.  But, we need to do this together." He straightened, squaring his shoulders.  

Joshua lifted his dagger hand in the air, then tilted the tip of the blade in salute.  "Just say the word, Chief."

Gordon curled his lip.  "This is our time. We will win this war."

❧

"Sire, we have a problem."

Henry turned from his perusal of the newest plans for the city to look at his Royal Advisor. "What is that, Joseph?"

Joseph Fenton closed his eyes for a moment, sending a prayer to God, before meeting the King's gaze. "My nephew." He left it at that, knowing that no more needed to be said. 

Henry's brows drew together as he appeared to consider his Advisor's response. 

"What has he done now?"

Joseph exhaled and said, "Nothing, yet.  But, your men crushed a Rebel uprising on the streets earlier today."  

Henry set down his pen, frowning more.  "Tell me, Joseph, how did your nephew get caught up in all this?" 

Joseph gave a wry laugh.  "My sister married the Rebel King." 

"Ah, yes...the late Laird of Douglas." Henry planted his hands on the edge of his desk and pinned the other man with a hard look. "Familial ties not withstanding, your loyalties lie with the Crown, do they not?"

Joseph bowed his head. "Majesty."

Henry nodded. "Good. Then you know what must needs be done."

"Yes, Sire."

 Harrumph. Cirrus flared her nostrils at the young woman who approached her.  

"Don't you harrumph me, y'ould nag," Kayla said, laughing.

You ain't going to put that bridle on me...

"Aye?" 

Aye.  Imma wild pony...

Kayla shook hair from her eyes as she stepped closer, holding the leather bridle up to the muzzle of the mare.  "Wild? Y'ken I'm as wild as you."  

You're a princess.

"Still wild," Kayla insisted. 

The mare blew air through her nostrils again, but lowered her muzzle relenting to her young friend. You may be Wild...but you have responsibilities.

Kayla scrunched up her face as she ruffled Cirrus' mane. "Y'dinna need to remind me."

The mare nudged her shoulder. They only wish the best for you.

Kayla gave a snort and said, "Marrying me off to some lowland lordling?" 

Cirrus whinnied. Give him a chance.

The last time the young woman gave a young lord a chance she came away with a heart so heavy with hurt and guilt that she swore off males for the rest of her days.  Granted they were only the tender age of five at the time...but Kayla was a precocious child.  Or was.  Still was, perhaps.  Though she was no longer a child.  

The mare snorted as Kayla swung onto her back, turning her head toward home.  You cannae run from the future, lassie.

Kayla laughed, high and gay.  "We will see..." 

❧

Jonathan's first thought was that diplomacy was a fool's errand.  Sure, the Highlanders needed to be brought to their side; but, a betrothal to the ruling Clan? That made no sense.  However, his father was one to make wild overtures to get what he wanted.  It was just that, Jonathan's limited experience of those Wild and rugged people's of the high lands was from the film Brave Heart. Mel Gibson eat your heart out.   The impression left little to be desired. But, here he was, standing in the Great Hall of the MacDonald clan.  Waiting for the princess.  Kayla.  

Kayla Elisabet MacDonald the flower of the Chieftain.  Stephen's daughter was an odd one.  Some said she could talk to animals.  Others said that she was fey...all that Jonathan knew was that she was a wild creature that no man could hope to tame.  Yet, if he was to marry her that would be the goal.  

He laughed to himself.

"Something amuses you, Highness?" 

Jonathan looked to the voice that spoke.  

"My lord Stephen, I was thinking on the wildness of your land." 

The Chieftain chuckled.  "You speak of my daughter."

Jonathan flushed realising his apparent transparency. "I mean no disrespect."

Stephen shook his head. "It is not disrespect when it is truth." He sighed. "I love my daughter, but she is needful of a firm hand to guide her.  And perhaps a change of scenery." 

Jonathan inclined his head in acquiesce.  "I can grant her that."  Was he not after all His Royal Highness James Jonathan son of Gregor, Crown Prince of the Republic of Scotland.  Though naming his titles to himself sounded pretentious in all honesty.  He kept silent on that front and nodded to the Chieftain once more.  "I will wait for her here if that pleases you, my lord." 

Before Stephen could answer, the clatter of hooves against cobblestones echoed through the hall. 

"Father?"

Jonathan turned toward the voice that spoke.  Kayla sat astride a stocky grey mare bearing no saddle and a bit-less bridle.  With her head cocked to one side her long dark hair cast a shadow across her face so he could not discern her expression.  However, her tone was enough to let them both know that she wasn't happy. 

"Daughter mine," Stephen said as firm as he could manage. "His Royal Highness has been waiting." 

Kayla's gaze did not shift from her father, or so Jonathan assumed, as she replied, "Cirrus has only just recovered from her injury, she needed a long run."  

"Cirrus is your steed, I presume?" Jonathan asked as he stepped forward into her line of sight.  

The look she levelled at him could have quailed someone of weaker constitution.  "Y' ken Cirrus belongs to no one."  

Jonathan lifted his eyebrows. "Yet you ride her." 

Kayla tilted her chin up, brow furrowing.  "She allows it.  Ours is a relationship built on mutual respect and trust."

Jonathan actually laughed. "She is a simple beast." That was the wrong thing to say.

Kayla's expression darkened. "You speak of things you dinna ken, your highness." She looked to the Chieftain.  "Tell him I am not interested in his betrothal." 

Stephen frowned, shaking his head.  "You have no choice.  This is in the best interest of the Highlands and the lowlands."

Jonathan watched as white lines etched themselves on either side of Kayla's pert upturned nose.  She made no response to her father's statement, though.  Instead she swung the mare around and made for the entrance of the hall.  

Stephen let out another sigh, looking to the prince. 

"She will come around, Highness." He murmured almost to himself, "She must..."

❧

"Did you ever find out what happened to that girl you almost married, Chief?"

Gordon slit one eyelid to glance at Joshua.  His brother was bending backwards over the arm of his chair, stretching and not even looking in his direction as he spoke. 

"We were five, Joshua."

"So? She would've been perfect for you." 

Gordon grimaced.  "She was like a sister to me." 

"Aye, just like Sadie is a sister to me," Joshua said, scoffing.  

"Sadie's a whore's unwanted get. I dinnae ken what you see in her," Gordon said, his accent thickening in irritation.  

He didn't like to be reminded of the past; particularly when it had to do with her. Life was simpler back then.  Joy, happiness, playfulness, all in the past.  And she was the epitome of it all.   Kayla of the Fey.  Even thinking of her name became a taboo for him.  

Joshua grunted, his annoyance evident. "At least I have her.  What do you have, brother mine?"

Gordon didn't dignify him with an answer, instead, shaking his head and getting to his feet. 

"Did you hear the news?" 

Joshua tilted his head back more. "News?"

"They're going to release mam."

Joshua jerked from his position. "When?" 

Gordon allowed a small smile to play across his lips at his brother's change in demeanour. "Tonight.  Joseph sent word."  

"Mother of mercy," Joshua said, voice wavering. "You're sure?"

"Aye." 

Silence fell between them as they both pondered the past year.  Since Matthew Pasan's death their situation appeared to get worse: Henry ordered the arrest of the matriarch of the Rebels, their mother, Celandine; curfews were brought in; anyone who disobeyed was to be summarily shot.  However, Gordon, and his kin, worked underground to find a way to thwart the Royal Guard and it looked as if their plans might be bearing fruit at long last. 

There was only one thing missing, the ancient alliance with the Highlands