“Because I need my Justice, especially now that I am the chief,” Cain said. He gave him a half grin. “And I know that ye would feed every starving mouth. Well, as long as they were Scots’ mouths.”

“Ye make me sound like a foking mother bird.” Gideon snorted. “I have never liked that particular part of Revelations. I do not want to bring famine.”

Cain chuckled, picking up another arrowhead. “Most people do not like any part of Revelations.”

“And I would amend feeding every starving mouth, not to include that Mackay fool below,” Gideon said. “Shall I schedule a trial for him?”

Cain worked a strong thread around the steel arrowhead, attaching it to a long shaft. “He will lose.” Three arrow shafts sat upright in the basket at his feet for him to finish. An archer must never run out of arrows. His father’s guidance floated through his mind even though he was dead and laid out behind him. The next day they would celebrate his life and bury him in grand style north of the castle, in the churchyard where Cain’s mother was resting for eternity. Then his warriors would pledge their lives to Cain as the new leader of Clan Sinclair.

“Aye, he will lose,” Gideon said. “All ye have to do is call the farmer and his wife as witnesses, and he will be back in the dungeon until the Mackay oats arrive or ye get tired of his whining and have Bàs silence him with a blade across the neck.”

Gideon liked to keep everything as fair as possible. To him, people were either good or bad, and raids were either warranted or crimes. Of all the brothers, he was the most suited to be the third horseman, and Cain was lucky to have him as an advisor.

“Schedule one if ye want,” Cain said. “I will leave it up to Justice.” He dropped the completed arrow in the basket and caught another shaft between his fingers, picking a molded tip from a bowl set on the chess table between them.

“What will ye do with the lass?” Gideon glanced toward the archway hiding the tower stairs.

That particular question had bred more and more questions until they buzzed in Cain’s head like angry bees. Even the calm that usually came as he wrapped arrows had failed to break through the chaos of too many possibilities. Yet he had no answers, except one. “I am not ordering her executed, no matter what she wants.”

“Why?” Gideon asked, moving the bowl of arrowheads from the ancient family chess table before Cain, fixing the few toppled pieces to play.