Heart thudding, she looked down at her fisted hand. One by one, she uncurled her fingers to look at the beautiful white knight. It was the one she had carved out when she’d accused Cain of being hollow inside, caring only about conquest and the material spoils of war.

Turning the knight over to see the space beneath, she saw that something filled it. Pinching her fingers, she plucked out a flower, a crumpled thistle. A purple Scottish thistle.

Her other hand fisted against her mouth. Prickly in nature, but with the heart and beauty of a Scottish lass. In that moment she knew what her choice was. She snapped her gaze back up to the mass of Sinclairs riding away. “Cain!” Her voice was loud, but he could not possibly hear her over the sound of hundreds of horses. “Cain!” she yelled again.

“Ella, what?” Jamie asked, his gaze going back and forth between her and the Sinclairs riding away.

“I need to get to Cain.”

“But he is letting ye go home,” Jamie said.

Kenneth sat beside him on his own horse. “Aye, Ella,” he said, drawing her gaze. Her father smiled warmly at her. “He is letting ye go home, lass. Ye need to figure out where home is.”

“That is at Dunrobin,” Jamie said, frowning. “The Sinclairs captured her, and then their chief said she could go.”

“Come along, Chief Sutherland,” Kenneth said. “Your sister has to think without anyone jabbering in her ear.”

Ella looked across the field laid out before her, hundreds of mounted Sinclairs moving across in their color divisions: white, bay, black, and the smaller group of pale green horses. She leaned left and right but could not see Cain’s back anymore. He must be up in front with his brothers. Pushing up higher in the saddle, she still couldn’t see him. “Cain,” she whispered, her heart full.

Her fingers wrapped around the knight in her hand as she leaned over Gilla’s neck. “Falbh! Go!” Gilla leaped forward, barely needing Ella to guide her, which was good, because the field was flooded with trotting warhorses. She strained to see Cain up ahead, but the front of the four armies had begun to enter the forest, making the mass halt as the front horses slowed to weave around the trees and summer-thick bramblebushes. Gilla was forced to slow and finally stop.

Ella’s feet went under her, boots slipping into the toeholds, and she pushed up into a stand. Men were all around her as she tried to see the front of the mass. “Cain Sinclair!” She tucked the knight into the top of her bodice and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Cain Sinclair!”