After a quick bath and a change of clothes, Alex met me in my office. A fire roared in the fireplace for the first time in over a year. I enjoyed warming my toes and fingers by the blaze. Calum's men could have supplied firewood for the office, but I had prioritized their efforts on hunting and keeping the great hall dormitory warm instead.
The room sweltered with heat; it was cozy. The addition of my friend's presence made me drunk on joy. I gave Alex a detailed rundown of the last three years and what I had salvaged of Stormway's prestige. My efforts were hardly worth boasting about.
Granaries and pantries depleted. The fields were a marshy, mismanaged disaster. Account books were rife with unpaid debts and taxes. My father had diverted most of the money from legitimate responsibilities to warmongering. Or, that is what the scribbled pages in my father's ledgers suggested. Tenants' rents were overdue by two years. Children hadn't been in school since the previous spring. It was harrowing to lay the entire mess out in front of him, to expose my incompetence to his scrutiny. To his credit, Alex listened sympathetically, nodding along with my tale of woe and asking pertinent questions. He did not judge, and he did not scold. I would have welcomed either and felt I deserved both.
Over dinner, at the end of what had become an eternal day, I regaled Alex with the tale of Calum's arrival, vow, and subsequent departure. He listened enraptured, his mouth open in a half-cocked grin. His fork was frozen in mid-air, laden with food.
And the food, oh, the food. I stuffed myself silly on the first full plate I had enjoyed in nearly a lifetime. Roasted chicken, buttery potatoes. Thick, warm brown bread drizzled with golden honey and topped with goat cheese, nuts, and seeds. Aspiring for gluttony, I mixed an extra dollop of goat cheese into my potatoes. A bowl of fresh apples, bright and tempting, their red flesh glided by the firelight, sat between us. A towering plate of cinnamon buns made the air smell sticky and sweet. Even better was the large jug of mulled wine, heady with spices and fragrance.
"And he just fell to his knees mid-meal and swore his men and arms to you?" Alex questioned.
"That's precisely what happened," I said with a still-baffled raise of my eyebrows. It had been a month since Calum's pledge, and the moment still amazed and beguiled me.
"What in the world did you do to him, Eilean?" Alex laughed, finally eating his suspended forkful.
"Nothing!" I squealed in amusement. "I'm sure there are strategic advantages to being my sworn man. The Mainland could still invade, of course. Even I would want to be friends with the person immediately in the line of fire. Calum claims he wants to build a 'new world', to seize the opportunity from the ashes of this war." I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. With a shrug, I sipped my wine. "The folly of a young man new to his power, I guess."
Alex eyed me warily, then lifted his eyes to the ceiling and thought it through. "I wouldn't be so quick to discount someone with a new vision. Who says the world we inhabit has to be the one we live in or leave behind?"
Considering that, I said, "I think you'd like him. He's a bit of a pirate... very smooth and self-assured, but entertaining to have around."
"Then I look forward to making his acquaintance," Alex said, offering me a cheer with his goblet. "Aside from his dashing nature, what made you accept his pledge?"
With a dry laugh, I looked down. Buying time, I swirled my fork through the remnants of my potatoes. Drew a few cross hatches in the soft mush before scraping it up and cleaning my plate. When I had my answer, I raised my eyes and found Alex waiting patiently — his eyes watchful.
"I wanted more." I declared.
Thinking back, I recalled the bright, beautiful day of Walther's wedding. A day that shimmered in my memory, a vision of a world that no longer seemed real. Had I once lived in such peace and comfort? Alex had asked me a question, sizing me up over a bed full of wriggling frogs.
"You asked me once what I wanted. Do you remember?"
"I do," he nodded.
"More. I want more. Only, I don't know what 'more' is, or what it means. But I know it when I see it. Ian offering me lessons, the night of Walther's fake wedding..." I looked back down at my plate, hoping to hide my reddening cheeks. "Calum offered me a morsel of 'more' when he bent the knee. So I took it."
"Friendship? Maybe that's it. Or power. Control. All those could be the 'more' for you." Alex suggested.
I nodded, my thoughts threading along beside his, "The appearance of control, at least. Circumstances outside my control dictated every moment of my life... before the war, it was my family. The fear of their judgment, my shame at being the odd one out. Then, when they left, hunger and survival. Until the moment Calum went to his knees, I forgot I had control. That I could command my life. So, I said yes to Calum and now hope to make up for lost time."
I smiled, feeling the sadness etched across my face. The defeat of years of missed opportunities.
"You understand none of this is your fault, right?" Alex asked, voice breaking. His eyes were heavy, his brows tugged low. He hunched forward, leaning over the desk.
I didn't have an answer for him. So much of it felt like my fault. It was hard to untangle the blame from my shame at not being better. I huffed out a laugh and gestured to the account books.
"Well, I certainly didn't spend the money," I tried to deflect his concern with ridicule.
"No. All of it. Everything you hold like a weight around your neck... the inadequacy you imagine, the hopelessness. You did the best you could with the tools you had."
I ducked my head, the perpetual embarrassment of my lifetime of ignorance warming my cheeks. "Ian tried, but his lessons were not sufficient —"
"You never gave up, Eilean. That's the important thing."
"What does effort count for?" I sighed, chin trembling. "A failure is a failure, effort notwithstanding."
"You're not a failure." Alex reached across the desk and grabbed my hand, he tugged on it, forcing me to meet his gaze. I did so reluctantly. "The people of Stormway love you, I can see it plain as day."
"I let them stave," I protested, unwilling to accept praise.
"You helped them survive. Did you lose anyone? Did anyone die from hunger or sickness?"
My cheeks burned as I shook my head, "No."
"How is that a failure?" Alex whispered, face softening.
"We almost starved. If you hadn't arrived, if Calum hadn't shown up out of the blue —"
"You knew when to ask for help, and from whom to ask for it. Thank the gods for Calum. His men helped keep you alive when I could not. He bought me time while I was stranded in the middle of the sea. You made a good alliance, two of them, and you should be proud, Eilean."
It was impossible to feel any satisfaction. Impossible to accept this kindness and understanding. I had been stupid and clueless. It was only luck that we had survived; not my skill or intelligence. Biting my lip to waylay the threat of tears, I looked at the fire, saying nothing.
After a few minutes, Alex cleared his throat. "So, do you want the bad news?"
"Is that why you were complimenting me?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. My belly was full enough and my toes warm enough that I could chase away the spiderwebs of self-doubt to tease him. If only to lift my own gloomy spirits.
Alex laughed, "No, I always mean it when I compliment you." He resisted a smile, the corners of his lips bouncing. His hand retreated from mine.
I braced myself on the chair, gripping the armrests, dreading whatever it was he was about to say. That he was leaving in a week, within a fortnight; that he was only here to drop off supplies. Abandoned yet again, my life's punishment. Ellesmure was hopeless, doomed to ruin.
"Tell me," I said through my teeth. Panic warbling in my gut.
"It has been at least five years since your father paid his loans or taxes."
My mouth fell open, the admission so different from what I had been expecting. "What?"
I was incredulous. Anger rose, furious and hot inside of me. Alex had spent most of the afternoon comparing the household accounts with other, smaller ledgers he had pulled down from the shelves that lined the study. Records I had never looked at or known to consult. His time spent with my father would have been the only reason he knew they existed.
"I doubt he intended to leave the estate in such a predicament, but... well, he left you afloat in the middle of a hurricane, Eilean."
I took time to consider this, honing my frustration and outrage into something sharp and searing that pierced my chest. Alex's statement aligned with enough of my suspicions. The memory of those scribbled-out accounts swam before my eyes. "All for this damned war," I growled.
"That's not explicitly specified in the accounts, but we can assume so, yes," Alex said carefully.
Covering my face with my hands, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. "What am I to do?"
I peaked through my fingers and saw Alex chewing on his cheek, considering.
"Whatever money you have, if there is any, start paying back the loans. You won't want for anything while I am here. I promise you, Eilean. So long as I am here, I will provide for you and your people. Any money you need in the meantime, I will gladly give."
My anger fizzled out in an instant, I lowered my hands and shook my head. "I can't let you do that, Alex. You've already given so much."
He held my gaze for a long, heavy moment. Alex looked intent, longing, ambitious. He tilted his head to the side, offered me a soft smile, opened his mouth as if he might speak; and then looked toward the fire, blushing. He spoke next to the flames.
"I lived here for thirteen years on the charity and generosity of your father. I owe my life to him as much as I do to anyone else in the world. Stormway is my home, my childhood home, and I will not see it fall to ruin... or let you suffer as the walls cave in around you."
My inability to reply was quickly becoming my most sincere form of gratitude. I fought the urge to weep. "Thank you," I whispered.
Alex turned to me, beaming. With a jerk of his head, he gestured to my uneaten dessert — the tower of cinnamon buns. "Finish your dinner, then get to bed. Tomorrow, the hard work begins."
I smiled at his fussing, allowed it, reveled in it as I stabbed my fork into the soft and pillowy treat.
A gust of icy wind shuddered down the flue and I shivered. With its chill, the outside world pressed into my cocoon of warmth and joy and with it, the reminder that from an outsider's perspective, Alex was my enemy. The shadow of the war that ravaged both our lands fell across my shoulders.
"Do you have news about the war?" I asked, hedging my desire to bring up the subject. "I haven't heard from my family at all."
"What, recently?" Alex asked with a mouth full of pastry.
I shook my head. "Ever. They've never returned a letter or sent word."
Alex scowled and chewed quickly, gulping as he swallowed. "That is unforgivable."
I didn't disagree.
"The last I heard, your father's army was trying to invade the capital. It's on the opposite end of the continent from The Fist. Far, far from my lands. I've been able to maintain my neutrality, though. We have been taking in any refugees or deserters from either side."
A soft, delightful feeling flooded my body to hear that he had turned The Fist into a haven. Maybe, in his own way, Alex was trying to build a better world, too. His information on the army's whereabouts matched what Calum had told me. Both reports were out of date, but they were all I had.
"Do your people know you're here?" I asked.
"No," He took a sip of wine, "well that's not totally true. I couldn't very well ride off with twelve hundred men and two years' worth of provisions without notice. They know I am assisting victims of the conflict. But they do not know how long I shall be away. I appointed a distant uncle to rule in my stead."
I furrowed my brow, gripped the arms of the chair again, "And how long is that?" I tried to school my question into the most casual-sounding sentence in the world.
Alex looked toward the fire again, bashful, "As long as I am wanted." He looked back at me from the corners of his eyes.
I took a bite of my cinnamon bun and offered him a pleasant smile.
A long, long time, then.
~
Our new world dawned bright the next day. Alex and I met before breakfast to divvy up the responsibilities. Alex would see to the crops, the animals, and the building and management of necessary structures across the island. I would handle tenants, rents, accounts, and the running of Stormway. Angus would oversee the men, communications with the front and other Islands, and the training of the outside servants. Later, I found Bess and placed her in charge of the household servants and staff, as well as the children of Stormway.
In half a day, the weight on my shoulders seemed to disappear. By not bearing the burden of all the work, I felt more confident that I could handle the tasks assigned to me.
Alex assigned a handful of his men to follow me around like ducklings; taking notes, organizing bills, and writing correspondence. They assisted me when Angus was elsewhere.
In the first weeks, I rode out with Alex and Angus, going door-to-door across the villages near the castle. We worked with the residents on their overdue rents and taxes. We delivered wagonfuls of food and medicine. Alex stationed a few of his men in every town to assist with any hard labor or hunting.
Every night, eating dinner in the office, Alex and I would share updates from our day. We would talk and debate and discuss late into the night about the next day's tasks. Eventually, well past midnight, we'd shuffle off toward our beds. Mentally and physically exhausted, I fell into deep and dreamless slumber. When I woke, I was happy. Invigorated by our early successes and proud of our effort.
Soon, Stormway hummed with efficiency. We were nowhere near prosperity, but bellies were full, nerves calmed, and cheeks rosy.
Hope was within reach.