“Quiver is an exceptional archer,” Purity said and her praise raised red spots on Quiver’s cheeks.
“Here we are talking when you all must be hungry and tired from your journey,” Oria said. “And your da must be told that you’ve returned. He will be overjoyed.”
“Oria is right,” Royden said with a smile. “Come, it’s time the MacKinnon’s gathered again.”
Oria hooked her arm in Purity’s, talking non-stop as they walked to the keep, King and Princess following along.
“Follow the women, Quiver,” Arran ordered and Quiver gave a nod and hurried off.
Royden ran his hand playfully over his brother’s cropped hair. “You sheered it nearly off.”
“I found long hair a deterrent in battle,” Arran said and pointed to Royden’s dark shoulder-length hair. “You didn’t go quite as short as I did.”
“Just enough not to be in my way,” Royden said, running his fingers through it.
Arran looked to his brother’s left wrist, where his hand would have been if he hadn’t lost it in battle. “You do well?”
“Thanks to you, brother,” Royden said, holding up the leather-clad stump. “If you hadn’t looked after me and helped me overcome those first few months, I don’t know if I would have made it.”
“You would have, but I’m glad you didn’t have to face it alone and I owe you as much for rescuing me from the pit of hell,” Arran reminded. “I never believed such evil could exist until I was captured by Brynjar.”
“It’s over now. We’re home and with what we’ve learned we can prepare and make certain we never suffer such an attack on our clans again,” Royden said.
Arran shook his head. “It’s not over yet.”
Royden nodded, knowing what his brother meant. “Raven, our sister.”
“Until we find her, it isn’t over. Have you learned anything about her?”
“I was about to ask you the same,” Royden said.
“We have to find her. She’s out there somewhere and there’s no telling what she’s been forced to do to survive.”
“I’ve thought the same,” Royden agreed. “What hell has she been through to stay alive and wait for us to rescue her?”
“We made a promise and we have to keep it,” Arran said.
“Aye, we did, and we will,” Royden confirmed.
“I need to settle, Hope, my horse, and feed her before I do anything else,” Arran said.
Royden gave a nod. “I have the perfect spot for her.
They walked off together worry over their sister still haunting them.
Arran barely entered the Great Hall when arms were flung around him and not expecting them, he shoved them off and his hand was at the man’s throat before he realized it was his da.
Arran released him instantly. “I’m sorry, Da.”
“Not your fault,” his da, Parlan, said between coughs to catch his breath. “I shouldn’t have come up behind you like that.” He spread his arms. “Can we try it again, son?”
Arran stepped into his da’s arms and was encased in a hug that instantly brought back memories of when he was a young lad and his da would hug him tight for a job well done or sometimes for no reason at all. Those times he knew his da hugged him for no other reason than to show his love. How was he going to be able to show his children such love when he had none to give?
When they parted, he tried to force at least a slight smile, but he couldn’t. Something in him wouldn’t let him.
“You look well, Da,” Arran said in lieu of a smile. He did look well, perhaps slightly thinner than he remembered, his white hair a little shorter, but otherwise unchanged from what he could see.
“Thanks to, Wren,” his da said and waved at a woman standing off to the side for her to join them.
Arran noticed how his da’s face lit with a wide grin when he looked at Wren and the way he took her hand to tuck her close beside him made it apparent that he cared deeply for the woman. And Wren was a fine looking woman, bright red hair with traces of white running through it, lovely green eyes and a pretty face. She also stood almost as tall as his da, though his da somehow seemed shorter than he remembered him. Royden was the tallest and he recalled being about the same height as his da, but now he was taller than his da, not far from Royden’s height. Maybe it was the way he’d learned to carry himself so that others would either respect or fear him, while the burden of the last few years had been too heavy a weight on his da’s shoulders.
“It is good to have you home, Arran,” Wren said, her smile welcoming.
“And it is good to meet you and a debt I owe you for saving my da’s life,” Arran said.
Wren reached out and touched his arm. “The only thing you owe me, and I know one day you will give me, is a smile.”