As the bulk of Varrich Castle came into view, Cain raised his arm in the air to halt the armies while Bàs rode toward him with his ten warriors. “She is there,” Bàs said with his first breath, his death mask giving him an air of indifference even though Cain knew he must be ravaged inside. When their mother had died giving birth to Bàs, Hannah had taken it upon herself to act like his mother. Although she’d been very young, she had cared for him when he was ill and bandaged his scrapes without alerting their father. George Sinclair would not stand for injuries in his sons and would rail against them when they ailed. Bàs had been weak as a lad, and Hannah hid it, keeping him alive so he could become the unstoppable warrior he was today.

Bàs pulled his horse up beside Cain and Joshua, looking toward the castle. “She stands beside Hew Mackay as he yells down from the wall walk. He says she will wed him, but he does not allow her to speak.”

“Does she look…like she wants to be there?” Cain asked.

“Fok no,” Joshua said beside him, but Cain needed to know all the truths in this scenario to form a successful strategy.

The skull mask couldn’t hide the confusion in Bàs’s eyes. “She does not smile or nod. She stands straight like there is a blade lying cold along her spine.”

The thought tightened every muscle within Cain’s body. Why had God given them women to love? Sisters, mothers, wives who were vulnerable to attack and the rigors of childbirth? How strong and invincible would he be if he did not care? But he did.

“We will lay siege to Varrich,” Joshua said. “We have your pale army, too, Bàs, as well as Gideon’s army of black horses.” He indicated the hundreds of horses to the far end of the field. He looked to Cain. “We but wait for your order to charge and bring war down on these foking bastards.”

Cain scanned the thick walls of Varrich where Mackays stood along the walkway above. “If we charge, will he slide that blade straight up her spine?” he asked out loud. Neither brother answered.

This required a different strategy. One without a frontal attack. Cain inhaled the cool air that still lingered across the moor despite the sun burning through the morning clouds. It funneled down through him, calming his temper, his blood working to bring him scenarios of attacks. He stared straight ahead, but his mind created lists of advantages and things that could hinder his success.