Page 31
As Bryanna let the horse drink, she looked back at the man, hanging on to every word, her heart drumming hard in her chest.
Raghnall handed a waterskin to the man. “How many?” Raghnall asked while the messenger drank.
The man finished and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, still breathing hard. “A thousand, Lord.”
“A thousand,” Raghnall said and spat on the ground. “Vengeful bitch. She really means to destroy us, doesna she?”
He looked back at Bryanna, his mouth twisted in a pained grimace. Then he looked around the estate and shook his head. “Tigh na Abhainn is on the enemy’s way to Eilean Donan. We canna hold this against a thousand, nae with fifty farmers.”
Bryanna gently clapped the horse on its side, taking comfort from its presence. A medieval war was coming—swords and arrows…and blood. What could she do? It seemed her adventure here was coming to an end. She had to return to her time. If she stayed any longer…it was very possible she would die here.
The image of her body in the arms of a bloodied warrior flashed through her mind.
“We must retreat,” said Raghnall. “Everyone, all my tenants, everyone from Tigh na Abhainn. Take everything we can carry, all horses and all weapons and every piece of food. All valuables. We’ll be stronger as one, in Eilean Donan, which has proper defenses and trained warriors.” He met Bryanna’s eyes. “We must return now, lass. It seems yer wish is coming true.”
Bryanna nodded, her heart still squeezing in worry but also sadness to end this time with him.
Raghnall turned to the rider. “Thank ye, man, but it seems yer journey isna over yet. Take a fresh horse and ride to Eilean Donan, and tell my brother what ye told me. And that we’re coming, too.”
“I’ll bring you something to eat,” said Bryanna as she hurried into the kitchen.
When the man had eaten and left, Raghnall informed Eanar and Teasag about the plan and asked Eanar to ride around to the farms and to tell everyone to pack everything they had and prepare to leave today.
It took several hours for people to prepare. With somber faces, they abandoned their livestock and fresh harvests of barley and oats, their only livelihood. Children, old people, and pregnant women sat on top of sacks and barrels in wooden carts. Pitchforks, axes, and the odd sword and spear stuck from the piles of things. The rest of the people walked or rode ponies and horses.
Bryanna saw the worry behind the mask of confidence on Raghnall’s face as they rode side by side. A long line of people and carts followed them along the hilly road of the Highlands. As the hills and valleys spread around them like a giant blanket, she swallowed hard, suddenly feeling light-headed. She hadn’t had much of a lunch, just a piece of bread.
“Are you okay, Raghnall?” she asked.
He glanced at her quickly, frowning. “Aye, lass, ’tis nae me that ye need worry about.”
“I mean, you just got your lands back, right? And now you have to abandon them.”
His jaw muscles moved. “If this is my land, ’tis my responsibility as the lord to make sure my people are safe.” His eyes darkened. “That my wife is safe.”
His voice broke on the last word, and Bryanna frowned. There it was again, that ache, that pain she’d heard in his song. And he had no idea how dangerous everything was for her here. Being in a world with no insulin readily available was life-threatening for her. Not to mention the additional dangers of the war.
“I’m sure I’m perfectly safe with you,” she said. “And your tenants are lucky to have you as their lord. Your first thought was about them.”
He snorted. “My brother was right. If he wanted to educate me about responsibility, here I am. The responsible lord.”
They rode for hours, and the longer they kept going, the surer Bryanna was that she was really not doing well. The symptoms of high blood sugar were crushing on her from all sides. The thirst, the dizziness, the headache, the weakness, the muscle tremors. She needed to get tested, but she couldn’t stop the whole procession just for her sake.
She asked Raghnall for water and drank everything from his waterskin, getting odd looks from him. When the darkening woods and hills around her began swimming, and she felt like she was about to slip from the horse, they stopped to give the horses a rest and to eat.
When she tried to stand up in the stirrups to put one leg over the horse’s back, all she could do was slip to her side. She tried to hold herself up by clenching the reins, but she was only clasping the empty air. The dark ground was heading straight at her when strong arms caught her and she was pressed against a hard chest, and the most mouthwatering aroma of man and pine and musk was in her nostrils.
“Lass, ye’re unwell,” Raghnall murmured in her ear as he set her on the ground. “Some water? Wine?”
“No…my purse.”
He crouched on the ground in front of her. “Yer purse is on yer shoulder, lass.”
“Oh.” Her head was swimming, and he was going all blurry. She looked at her shoulder, and he was right, there was her purse in all its bright-purple glory. She let it slide from her shoulder and unzipped it, then began rummaging, not understanding what she was looking for.
Then she remembered.
The strips. The testing kit. Her pens…
