Chapter 39

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Innis seemed the most natural ally to call upon, so as soon as Alex and I arrived back at Stormway, I hollered at a maid to find her, fetch her, and bring her to the study.

Alex dumped the box on the desk and, with a quick kiss to my temple, left to catch up on work he was now woefully behind on. Waiting for Innis, I thumbed through the old documents, marveling at their existence. It was surreal. As I flipped through page after page of family histories, my astonishment became complete. As Alex has summarized, The Islands, until a century ago, had been a matriarchal society. They passed family names through the mothers. Women ran the estates and territories. There was a smattering of male Lairds, but they were few and far between. The records were annotated with notes clarifying that they had served in an interim role during sickness or until a younger sister came of age.

Innis' quick, sharp steps announced her arrival, and she glided into the study. "I assume this is about the sheep?" She said with a raised brow and a worried expression.

"What sheep?" I asked, confused enough by her announcement that all thoughts of the history before me evaporated in a blink.

"Oh, I thought Calum told you." She sat down and arranged her skirts. "My father is sending a flock to you. Ransom for my return."

"That's convenient, as you just mentioned yesterday Ellesmure had the terrain for it." I meant it as a jest, to coax a wry smile out of her. Innis just shook her head, her eyes hollow.

"Do you want to go back?" I asked, softening my tone.

"No." Her answer was definitive. "I like Stormway. I'd do things differently, of course, but it's better than being dead."

I couldn't help the dark chuckle that punched out of me, faced again with her stark reality. "Was it that bad?"

Innis sighed and bit her bottom lip. "My memory of my father is of a man who was gentle, calm, and quiet. Indulgent to the point of spoiling us kids. Something about the war changed him. He returned bitter, mean, and spiteful. And my brothers..."

As she trailed off, I watched her eyes turned into tempests. A deep frown of disapproval carved her face into a hard-set sneer. "They are younger than me, pulled into this conflict as mere boys. Now they are like ghosts."

It was uncharitable, but I contemplated if not having my family return was better than the lingering effects of the war. Who might my parents and brothers be after years of killing and battle?

"If that's the case, why would your father spare such an expense just to have you returned?" I mused. "I know that's a disgraceful way of thinking, and I hope you do not mind the question."

"I don't," she shook her head. "To make an example of me. The Northern Isles is a loose collection of small islands, all of them interdependent on each other. We are not the only daughters who got a taste for control, Eilean. No doubt he intends to use me as a martyr to quash further resistance from the wives, daughters, and sisters who are hesitant to return to the way things were."

I shook my head, speechless. There were no words to convey the heaviness and dread I felt settle across my shoulders.

"Anyway," Innis said, straightening her posture and smoothing her skirts, eager to move on. "Keep the sheep, and I will teach your people how to herd them. Now I have an occupation, and Ellesmure gets to expand its industry."

"Won't your father want the sheep back?"

"Crags Mist is swimming in the damn things. He either won't notice the loss, financially at least, or you can send him some of that fine wine Lord Leslie keeps us flush in and he'll move on to another scheme."

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