At that moment it all became so clear—the old man’s words and Gavin’s behavior. Greylen looked upon Malcolm for the first time in years. Really looked upon him. He shook his head in disbelief, for the similarities were so close and the eyes—good God—the eyes were identical.

Greylen turned to Gavin, his look so bleak, so barren and filled with despair. The betrayal was nothing short of crushing. His sworn enemy—the man who almost killed his wife and brought destruction to his land—was the brother of his first-in-command.

His friend.

The brother of his soul for years.

Greylen’s judgment flashed through his mind as he held Gavin’s stare, his choice made in mere seconds. ’Twas the only choice he could make. But just as Greylen was about to speak, Malcolm gave his ominous order.

“Now!”

Taken by surprise again, though this time by the shock of what they witnessed, the sound of arrows rent the air as Malcolm released his dagger. Gavin jumped from his horse, placing his body between Greylen and the dagger meant for his heart. It embedded in Gavin’s shoulder, but as if unfazed in his state of fury, Gavin ran for Malcolm.

Compelled by an internal sense of dread, Gavin turned as his commander fell to the ground.

“Noooo!”

“Your own betrayal killed your laird, brother,” Malcolm boasted. He turned to flee, then with a sickening chuckle, added, “Your look is almost as priceless as when I murdered our mother.”

Gavin ran to Greylen as Duncan gave chase to Malcolm and his men. He lifted Greylen’s head to his lap, a blow to the back of his head leaving him unconscious. Blood seeped from the jagged wound and two arrows had found their marks, one in his thigh and another in his back. Kevin and Hugh began to circle him, their swords still drawn.

“I’m still your first-in-command,” Gavin hissed. “Kill me if you must but get him home!”

’Twas a call they could not make. Gavin was in agony, and they knew he only meant to protect Greylen. Duncan was back only minutes later, sure that Malcolm and his men were gone, and he knelt beside Gavin to help tend Greylen’s wounds.

Gavin had already sliced through the arrows’ shafts, cutting them close to the point of entrance. He ripped his shirt, tying the material around Greylen’s leg. The arrow that pierced his back had somehow deflected, and its tip rested just beneath the surface of his shoulder. Though it bled profusely, ’twas the blow to his thigh that worried him most. The blood pulsed from it and Gavin tied it again before gaining his saddle. He pulled up Greylen’s body in front of him as his men lifted him from below.