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“’Tis nae over,” Owen said and slammed his fist against the table. “’Tis far from over. We ken what they have in mind. We can strike back.”

“Aye,” the men echoed.

“And we can finish the MacDougalls forever,” Craig said. He locked his eyes with Owen. “I ken who else would like to be at that battle.”

“Ian,” they both said.

“Aye, Ian,” Dougal said.

“’Tis my nephew the MacDougalls sold into slavery to the caliphate,” Neil explained to the Bruce.

“Aye,” the Bruce said. “Any Cambel is welcome to fight against our common enemy.”

“So what do ye want to do, Your Grace?” Owen said.

The Bruce sighed and studied the drawing thoughtfully. “How steep is the slope?”

“’Tis quite steep,” Owen said. “There are few places where one can climb it. I ken them.”

“Aye. Good. Then we need to take advantage of the knowledge. The biggest threat, of course, are the forces hidden up the mountainside. Owen, ye ken the terrain well. What do ye suggest?”

Amber bit her lip, nervous for Owen. This was his moment to shine or to fail.

“I suggest ye take the Pass as if ye dinna ken of the ambush. That’ll blind the MacDougalls and make them feel as though their plan is working. In the meanwhile, have some of yer men attack the enemy waiting to ambush ye in the mountainside, perhaps from their flank.”

“Aye,” the Bruce said. “’Tis what we’ll do.”

Amber remembered a similar situation in Afghanistan. They’d arrived at a city in six Humvees. They’d driven around a corner and found a street barricaded with old cars and rubble. Bullets and grenades had rained down on them from behind and above.

If it wasn’t for another unit that had come from the east and air support, Amber didn’t think they’d have made it out alive.

They’d been able to take out the snipers from the air. Obviously, the Bruce couldn’t use choppers, but his men could climb even higher and ambush the ambush from above.

“There’s something more you can do,” Amber said.

Everyone looked at her, and she bit her tongue, instantly regretting her interference.

“Woman, ken yer place,” Dougal barked, and men chuckled.

“Da, let her speak,” Owen said. “With yer permission, Your Grace.”

The Bruce pierced her with his eyes, and she cowered. What the hell did she know about medieval tactics and Scottish terrain?

The Bruce shook his head. “We dinna have time for a woman’s opinion. Ye’re here as a courtesy to Owen Cambel. Nothing more.” He turned to the men. “Now, I think our knights should attack the blockade. And the Highlanders—”

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Owen said. “But ye should listen to what Amber has to say.”

The Bruce shot him a murderous look.

“Owen, ye ken I respect yer opinion, but why should I trust a woman?”

“If ye trust my information, ye need to trust her.”

“Owen—” Dougal said.

But Owen insisted, “I beg of ye, listen and then decide. She has significant military experience. Ye want to give her the opportunity to talk.”

The Bruce held Owen in his heavy gaze. New worlds must have been born, lived, and died before the Bruce spoke again.