Their king spoke quickly, coming out of his chair to stand next to Greylen. “He was brought here by four men last week. They stated ’twas Malcolm, and I believed them, Greylen,” he said emphatically. “He does in fact resemble your man,” he added in justification, looking to Gavin.

“What were they told of the bounty on his head?” Greylen asked, hoping that their plan was to await him and Gavin.

“I informed them you’d be notified,” their sovereign said quickly. “And when you arrived, they could collect their coin.”

“James,” Greylen demanded again. “What of their plan? Have you any recall?”

“Bits and pieces,” the man replied, shaking his head. “But they made no sense.”

“Speak them, no matter how insignificant.”

“They spoke of numbers,” James began. “The days ’twould take for ‘the bastard’ to reach…to reach Stirling.” He hesitated. “Then they spoke of a woman.”

“What woman?” Greylen shouted, taking the man by the shoulders, shaking him as his face contorted in rage.

James hesitated no more. “I mean no disrespect, sir. His exact words…were…‘MacGreggor’s bi—’”

Greylen and Gavin were gone before he finished. They raced from the castle and straight to the stables. Their mounts gained quickly, their breakneck pace taking them with record speed to the pier.

Most of the ship’s crew had been given the day to explore the port and spend their coins. And there, they would remain.

Greylen and Gavin ran up the plank, each shouting orders to their captain and the few men still aboard. Duncan and Connell went for the anchor, their hands working in perfect symmetry as they pulled the length. Greylen and Gavin took to the main mast, climbing high into the air to untie the sail. They grabbed the ropes and jumped at the same time, the white sail dancing to life as they descended to the deck below. Greylen assumed command of his vessel, calling orders as he navigated their way to open waters.

He was their captain now.

He would take them home.

Though the wind was in their favor, they had such a diminished crew that they worked endlessly for the two days it took to reach Seagrave. The entire time, barely a word was exchanged. By any of them. There was nothing to say. Their only need now was to arrive before Malcolm carried through with his plan.

Greylen and Gavin stood at the bow, their legs braced apart, their arms crossed over their bare chests, as they entered the cove at Seagrave. Their swords rested within their scabbards and they stood ready. But they knew not for what.

“They are but five, Greylen,” Gavin said, as if trying to offer a modicum of comfort.

“Aye,” Greylen replied, turning to look at Gavin. “And she is but one.”

“She knows to have her guard,” Gavin assured him.

“I relaxed her watch, Gavin. She had need only to inform them of her movements.”