Embers in the Snow

Chapter 58 | A Time for Feasting

The late afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the newly rebuilt walls of MacLeod Castle. The stone fortifications stood strong and proud, a testament to the resilience of the clan and the unwavering determination of its laird. After months of hard work, the castle was not just restored—it was renewed, stronger than it had been before. Inside the grand hall, the sound of laughter, music, and conversation echoed off the stone walls as the clans of MacLeod and MacDonald gathered to celebrate the finishing of the castle.

Aili stood by the hearth, her hand resting gently on Ewan's arm as they greeted their guests. She wore a soft green gown that complemented the blonde waves of her hair, and though her face carried a few faint scars from the ordeal she had endured, her eyes sparkled with the joy of being surrounded by family and friends. The months of healing had been long and difficult, but tonight, with the warmth of the hearth and the laughter of loved ones, she felt at peace.

Ewan looked down at her, his heart swelling with pride. Seeing her standing tall and radiant after everything she had been through filled him with a deep sense of gratitude. She was his warrior, his equal in strength and resilience. The scars she bore were not marks of weakness, but of survival.

"The castle looks beautiful, doesna it?" Aili said softly, her eyes sweeping over the great hall, which was filled with the sounds of clinking cups and the scent of roasted meats.

Ewan smiled, wrapping his arm around her waist. "It does. But not as beautiful as ye."

Aili blushed slightly, though her smile remained. "Ye always know what to say, donna ye?"

"I mean every word," he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple.

At the far end of the hall, Allistair and Sofia stood with their son, laughing and talking with some of the MacLeod warriors. Jaime and Garrick were standing side by side, downing their cups. Even Laird Macdonald had made it to the celebration. The two clans had come together not only for protection but out of true friendship and shared history.

Isla's laughter rang through the hall, light and carefree, and it reminded Aili of how far they had come.

As the evening wore on and the feast reached its height, the music grew louder, and the mood became even more festive. Tables were piled high with food—roasted boar, freshly baked bread, and bowls of fruits. The air was filled with the scent of rosemary and thyme, mingling with the rich aroma of spiced wine. Men and women danced, their feet tapping rhythmically on the stone floor, and children ran between the tables, their laughter infectious.

Ewan and Aili sat at the head of the table, watching the festivities unfold. Aili leaned into Ewan's shoulder, smiling as she took in the sight of her family and friends gathered in unity. "This is what we've fought for," she said softly. "For moments like this."

Ewan's hand rested gently on hers. "And we'll protect it."

But just as the evening seemed to reach its peak, the great hall doors opened quietly, and Duncan—Ewan's most trusted scout—slipped inside. His face was drawn, his expression serious. Ewan noticed him immediately, his warrior instincts kicking in as he sat up straighter. Duncan didn't look like a man who was here to celebrate.

Aili sensed the shift in Ewan's posture and looked up to see Duncan approaching the head of the table. She frowned, the joyful warmth she had been feeling turning to a knot of apprehension.

"Duncan," Ewan said, rising from his seat. "You've returned."

The hall grew quieter as those nearby noticed the exchange. The music continued, but the chatter around the head table had stilled.

Duncan bowed his head, his voice low. "I bring news, my lord. Of the mercenaries."

Ewan's expression darkened. "Speak."

Duncan glanced at Aili, then back to Ewan. "It would be best if we speak in private."

Ewan hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to Aili. She nodded slightly, her hand resting on his arm in silent support. "Go," she said softly. "I'll be fine."

Ewan nodded, squeezing her hand before turning back to Duncan. "We'll step outside."

They made their way to the courtyard, where the chill of the evening air bit into their skin. The sound of the feast still carried faintly through the walls, but out here, under the star-strewn sky, the atmosphere was far heavier. Duncan's face remained grave as he pulled a folded piece of parchment from his coat.

"What is this?" Ewan asked, taking the parchment from Duncan's hand.

"A letter," Duncan replied. "From the one who's been behind it all."

Ewan's brow furrowed as he unfolded the parchment and scanned its contents. His jaw clenched, the anger he had fought to keep at bay threatening to break through as he read the message.

To Laird Ewan MacLeod,

I trust the recent turmoil has tested your resolve. The attacks on your castle and your wife's abduction were but the first steps in a larger plan. It was not mercenaries alone who sought to weaken you, but those who wish to see the alliance between MacLeod and MacDonald crumble.

The time for games is over. Surrender your lands to Clan Ross, or you will face the full force of those who stand against you. We will not hesitate to destroy everything you hold dear.

Choose wisely.

Signed, Laird Fergus Ross

Ewan's heart pounded in his chest as he lowered the letter. Clan Ross. He had suspected their involvement before, but now it was confirmed. Fergus Ross was a man of ambition and cruelty, known for his hunger for power. He had long coveted the lands held by the MacLeods and the strength of their alliance with the MacDonalds. The recent attacks had been his way of testing Ewan, probing for weaknesses.

Duncan shifted uncomfortably. "What do we do, my lord?"

Ewan crumpled the letter in his fist, his eyes burning with cold fury. "We prepare."

The gravity of the situation settled heavily in his mind. Clan Ross was powerful, and if they had allied with other smaller clans, this could be the start of a full-blown war. But he would not yield. Not now, not ever.

"I'll speak with Allistair," Ewan said, his voice low and dangerous. "We'll need the MacDonalds' support more than ever."

Duncan nodded, his voice grim. "Do you think they'll attack again soon?"

Ewan stared out into the darkness, the weight of the situation pressing on him. "They will. And when they do, we'll be ready."

He turned and headed back toward the great hall, the letter still clutched in his hand. The joy of the evening had been shattered by the knowledge of what was coming, but Ewan knew one thing for certain: Fergus Ross had made a fatal mistake. He had underestimated the strength of the bond between the MacLeods and the MacDonalds.

When Ewan re-entered the hall, Aili's eyes met his immediately. She saw the tension in his face, the storm that was brewing just beneath the surface. She stood and made her way to his side, concern etched into her features.

"What is it?" she asked quietly, her hand resting on his arm.

Ewan glanced around the hall, seeing the faces of his family and allies, the people he had sworn to protect. He knew that whatever was coming, they would face it together.

"Trouble's brewing," he murmured, his eyes locking with hers.

Aili's gaze softened, though her worry was evident. "The mercenaries?"

Ewan kissed her forehead, his hand resting on her waist. "No. I'll tell when the festivities are over. This is your night to celebrate."

Aili nodded her head appreciatively. She would wait to hear the bad news, but for now she would enjoy this hard earned moment of joy.

As the music resumed and the feast continued around them, Ewan stood with Aili at his side, knowing that the battle for their future had only just begun.