Page 10 of Steel & Surrender

His stomach dropped.

It was that damn list.

He’d almost forgotten about it.

Two months had passed since they’d sat up in their mother’s Winter Garden, drinking and watching the sunset, since Alistair had confided in him about the list of things he wanted to do before his days were up.

Greig’s heart started to pound hard as he scanned the list once more.

Alistair hadn’t done any of these things.

He’d talked about climbing Ben More that summer and had been starting to swim daily from Duart Bay. Although his clumsy breaststroke had brought forth many teasing comments from Davy, who’d looked on from the shore. To Greig’s knowledge, Davy didn’t know about the list—indeed, he’d been bemused by Alistair’s sudden interest in swimming. It was a goodly distance across the Sound from Mull to Oban, and he needed to improve if he was ever going to complete that task.

Now, he never would.

He hadn’t even taken that trip to Tobermory and drunk the night away, the easiest of all of the challenges.

He’d waited too long.

Like all young men, he’d secretly believed death was something that happened to someone else.

Pain twisted in Greig’s chest. He’d once believed that too. He didn’t any longer.

Gazing down at the list, his vision blurred.

Hissing a curse, he squeezed his eyes shut once more, waiting until the wave of pain had crashed over him and ebbed away like a retreating tide.

Shite.

He’d made a mistake coming in here. He shouldn’t have nosed around in his brother’s business. He should leave before he found anything else that upset him.

Re-rolling the parchment, he stuffed it into his belt. He then picked up the lantern with one hand and, with the other, steered himself with his stick out of the chamber.

Entering his own room, he hobbled across to where a hearth burned. It was summer now, but the nights were still chill.

Breathing hard, he pulled the scroll free from his belt. His gaze dropped to his hand, to where his fingers now clenched into a fist around the parchment.

He could burn it. End it here.

No one would ever know what Alistair had wanted—what he’d hoped for.

But then, as heartbeats passed, he didn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to.

Promise me.

His brother’s words echoed in his ears.

They’d both been drunk, and Greig had agreed just to shut him up.

He hadn’t considered that he’d one day be called upon to do any of these foolish things.

Promise me.

Alistair’s gaze had been fierce. The fool. What a thing to ask, especially of someone with a maimed leg. Someone who couldn’t walk without a stick.

A cripple who couldn’t even carry his brother's coffin.

“Curse ye, Al,” Greig ground out between clenched teeth. “Ye should be still alive. Ye should be bringing a rose to the Forge Maiden and watching her blush.”