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“Answer me, lass,” the king said, his nostrils flaring.
“Had you asked me a month ago,” Amber’s voice rang out loudly in the silent hall, “I’d have said yes. But not because I wanted to. Because I’d be afraid of you, of your authority, of your power. I’ve made myself small and obeyed the orders of my commanders my whole life. My father. My brothers. My superiors in the army. But the same superiors I trusted and fought for betrayed me.”
She inhaled sharply.
“So I won’t give anyone else power over my destiny. You fight for Scotland’s independence, King. I will only fight for mine. This is not my war. And you’re not my king. I have no king.”
The Bruce held her in his hard gaze for a long time. It was so quiet, Owen imagined he could hear mice scratching in the corners.
The Bruce crossed his arms on his chest. “Why did ye agree to serve Mackenzie in Inverlochy?”
Amber’s shoulder twitched. “I needed protection from those who chased me.”
“Who chased ye?” the Bruce frowned.
Owen might regret it later, but he couldn’t leave Amber in peril, fighting her fight alone. Even if it might cost him his king’s favor.
“The English,” Owen said.
The Bruce raised one eyebrow, the weight of his gaze like a boulder on Owen. “Are the English yer enemy?” the Bruce asked Amber.
“Aye,” Owen answered for her.
Amber nodded. It was at least partially true for her, after what de Bourgh had done to her.
“So if the English are yer enemy, will ye at least join me against them?” He chuckled, his mouth askew. “Even if I am nae yer king?”
She shook her head. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but no. I have fought against enough enemies. I’m done fighting.”
The Bruce nodded once, his lips pinched in his beard.
“I’m nae used to being rejected three times, my lady. Still, ’tis yer right, and I appreciate words said honestly. It takes courage to say nae to a king, and ye dinna lack any. I’ll take yer valuable advice and let ye go. But if ye wilna show yer loyalty to me by fighting by my side, ye need to leave this council now.”
Amber untangled her fingers from Owen’s. “Of course.”
She locked her eyes with Owen’s, and his stomach squeezed in awe at her. It was only a brief moment, but it felt like it lasted for a lifetime. It was as though Amber and he were the only two people left in the world, and there was no yesterday or tomorrow. No enemies, no one to judge them, and no one to respond to. She wasn’t a distraction. She was the only thing that made sense.
When she walked out, she left him with his chest hollow and scraped out.
Oh, he was so fecked.
“Owen! Owen!” He heard a voice calling him and turned his attention to the men around the table, his head still full of Amber.
The Bruce, Neil, Douglas, and everyone else stared at him, waiting. He only now noticed his father had come to stand right next to him.
“What is it?” Owen said.
The Bruce raised his eyebrows, his eyes hard in annoyance. “Is there a route up the mountainside?”
Owen cleared his throat. He needed to shake his feelings for Amber off and concentrate on the task at hand. If only it were so easy.
“Son,” Dougal murmured next to his ear, “ye need to focus. Ye lead one third of the Bruce’s army in this battle. Ye canna let a lass distract ye this time.”
Owen nodded. For the first time in his life, he completely agreed with his father.
“Aye,” he said to Dougal, then leaned over the drawing on the table and drew a thin, circuitous path on the right side of the mountain flank up the hill. “Here.”
And as the line got closer to the dots representing the MacDogualls, he realized with the clarity of the waters of Loch Awe that everything he’d ever wanted had finally happened. He was given great responsibility. He was a leader. He could finally make his clan proud.
