He went to join his wife and she stretched her hand out to him as soon as he was close enough for him to take hold of it, and he did.
“Isn’t this wonderful, Royden, Penn and Wilfred know each other,” Oria said.
Royden saw the touch of fear in Emily’s and Lona’s eyes and watched Wilfred pale. It was Penn who bravely, though nervously spoke up.
“Wilfred and I met in one of the mercenary camps and spent a few years together,” Penn explained. “He fell in love with Lona like I did with Emily. There is something irresistible about the women of the Clan MacKinnon. Wilfred brings his exceptional skill as an arrow maker to the clan.”
“Lona met Wilfred at the Clan MacDonnegal, where she’d been moved to shortly after the attack,” Oria said.
Royden settled a glare on Wilfred. “Why would Chieftain Fergus part with such an exceptional arrow maker?”
Lona responded before her husband had a chance to. “I wanted to come home. I missed my clan, my family, the people I love.”
“It is good to have you home, Lona.,” Royden said, keeping a calm voice yet a commanding tone. “We have need of a skillful spinner.”
“I am here to serve the clan, sir, as is my husband,” Lona said, clinging tightly to her husband’s arm as if she feared he’d be taken away from her.
“Fergus gave you no argument about that, Wilfred?” Royden asked and Lona went to respond again for him. “Your husband can speak for himself.”
Uncertainty flared in Wilfred’s eyes and he looked to Penn.
Royden didn’t wait, he ordered, “Both of you come with me.”
“Wilfred has done nothing wrong, sir,” Lona begged, keeping hold of her husband’s arm.
“Then he has nothing to fear,” Royden said and looked to his wife. “Settle Lona in one of the cottages.”
“I know one that will be perfect for you and Wilfred,” Oria said and she let go of her husband’s hand to take Lona by the arm. “Come, Emily, the cottage is not far from yours.”
Emily squeezed her husband’s arm, a worried look in her eyes, before going off with the two women.
Royden took note of the way his wife had reassured Lona that there was no need for worry, that her husband would be returning to her. She wisely understood that he would not turn away a skillful arrow maker, though if time proved he could not trust the man, he would not hesitate to be rid of him.
“My solar,” Royden ordered and without being told directions the two men led the way right to it. His chest tightened with anger that strangers had been in his home and knew it almost as well as he did. How many attacks on innocent people had been planned in what once had been his da’s sanctuary? A place where he had once fought for more peaceful ways to settle disputes and accusations that could have easily led to battles.
Royden pointed at the table for them to sit. “When was the last time you were both in this room? And why would a warrior and an arrow maker even be brought here?”
Penn spoke up first. “Warriors were brought here now and again and asked if we had learned anything, from those in the clan, about your sister Raven.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me this?” Royden asked, his voice raised in annoyance.
“What was there to tell?” Penn shook his head. “No one, not one person, knew anything about Raven’s whereabouts or if they did, they never said a word. It was a worthless effort. It was always the same when I came here. Where is she? Who has seen her? Where does she hide?”
“They believed her alive?” Royden asked and realized why his wife had kept quiet about what she’d known about his da and sister. His da would have survived only to find his life taken from him if the enemy had discovered his whereabouts. And his sister? He hated to think about her fate. Oria had lived with a hefty burden over the years.
“I assumed they did since they encouraged me and others to try and find out anything we could. But I heard and saw nothing that pertained to your sister,” Penn admitted. “As I told you, this is my home now, here with my wife and son, and I will do whatever is necessary to see it remains so.”
“I will too,” Wilfred said quickly. “I was only in this room once. I was brought here after I delivered arrows to a man called Trevor. He was so pleased with them that he brought me here for a drink. I had joined the mercenaries of my own accord, though it was soon obvious I wasn’t cut out to be a warrior. I don’t like to kill.”
“None of us do,” Royden said. “Unfortunately, there are many who enjoy it, which leaves us no choice but to defend ourselves. I assume you were protected because of your skills as an arrow maker.”