I had hardly pulled myself out of bed and was brushing my hair when Ian stormed into my room. He looked haggard and rumpled. I wondered how long my family had been locked up in Mother's rooms. The dark circles under my brother's eyes were stark against his pale cheeks.
"We have to talk," he said, frowning at my unmade bed and dressing gown.
"Sit," I pointed at the couch with my hairbrush. Glancing at the clock and noting the late hour — if seven was seen as late — I said mildly, "No morning rides today?"
Ian gave me a humorless laugh and then squinted at the bed, studying it closely. I wondered if he knew about Alex sleeping there. If his strange perception could pick up on the rumpled pillows and askew blankets.
"Even your bed has ruffles. How on earth do you sleep comfortably?" He asked.
I let out a tight sigh, perhaps betraying too much relief that he hadn't inquired after any nocturnal bedfellows. My cheeks turned red, and I turned back to the mirror in haste. "You've seen my bed before," I pointed out.
"It was dark, then."
"Is this really what you want to talk about?" I asked, frustrated.
"We can talk about anything you want, sister. Maybe we'll start with your cryptic warning not to count on the Fist. What useful insight. But how would you acquire such information?" Ian shook his head, smiling slowly. He laughed to himself. "You know what, I don't want to know."
Despite myself, I smiled. I turned on the stool before the vanity and faced him. "Yes, the war. Let's talk about that. Your suspicions were right. When you were sharing your guesses, how certain were you that Father would act? Do you really want to do this? Must you all go? Surely there are other options than what I heard in Mother's chambers last night."
Ian chewed on the inside of his cheek, looking warily at the chambermaid picking up around the room. I gently dismissed her, asking her to come back later. She gave me a pained expression as if she wanted to stay and hear what Ian had to say. It would have been relevant to her, I knew she had a son around my age and he would be included in the forces recruited from Stormway. I shook my head. Head bowed, the maid left. Once the door snicked shut, Ian started talking.
"I've had my suspicions for a while. It's why Alex's appearance at the Standing spurred me into action. The only logical conclusion was that Father was going to force an alliance between you both and use it as leverage. I thought this would happen, but I didn't anticipate Father having other plans with other Lords on the Mainland. Plans with more willing contacts." Ian took off his glasses and rubbed his face. He looked at me with unfocused eyes, shaking his head. "Yesterday we learned that these plans have been in the works for at least a decade."
"Alex mentioned there have been rumors for some time... that an Islander was up to something. They had no idea who or to what extent."
"Another Island Laird, some upstart from the South, shares Father's views and has tirelessly built up the armies across the smaller Islands. The Northern Isles are just as motivated as they need more access to food and farmland, their mountainous terrain offering little to support their people. While there have been plots and treaties for years, the Gathering planned around Walther's Standing was the catalyst. They finally had enough men and enough support on the continent."
I shook my head, "They just decided they wanted to invade the Mainland? Deciding to go to war as easily as if they were picking out what clothes to wear?"
"Essentially," Ian grimaced.
"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," I said with a scowl.
Ian wobbled his head, both agreeing and disagreeing. "The Islands are all independent nations. It is Father's hope that by leading this charge he can prove his strength to the smaller Islands and they will make him king of the confederation outright."
Braiding my hair, I puzzled at what a would-be Island king would need. A successful campaign uniting the Islands was a good start. Securing access to centralized agriculture would enable him to feed the new kingdom. The Islands were rich in precious materials but my lessons with Ian had taught me that even Ellesmure, with all its landmass, imported more than half of its food from the continent. I could piece it together and make it make sense, but justifying bloodshed was difficult for me.
"Why?" I asked again. "I mean, I get it. But I also don't. The Mainlanders outnumber us. If we attack, they'll close down trade and we will starve. And what if Father loses? Will we be punished and lose all of our imports?"
Ian grimaced, "Good, you're thinking through this logically. It brings me some comfort that our lessons have not been in vain." He laughed bitterly, "But now you're uncovering more problems."
"Why?" I dared ask again. "Father wants to be a king? I guess I can understand his ambition... But... why now?"
"He has men and gold and opportunity?" Ian bit out rhetorically. "Ellesmure has protected and buffeted the Mainland for thousands of years. Our ancestors came from the continent and settled these Islands. I think Father got it into his head that this is his destiny — that he must reclaim the land and territory of his forefathers."
It was an effort not to roll my eyes. The sheer recklessness of my father's unmasked ego threatened to undo me. There was no cause, no nobility in seizing power for power's own sake. "Do you have to do this? Can't you refuse?"
I looked my brother up and down. Though he was in excellent physical shape, he didn't have the bulk and strength of my other brothers. He was lean, willowy. Ian wasn't built for combat or brute force. How would he keep his delicate, golden glasses from shattering on a battlefield?
Ian snorted, "Thanks for that vote of confidence yesterday, by the way. Touched though I might be that I was your first pick to stay behind, it really wounded my sense of pride." His tone was dry and teasing. I knew there was no offense taken in my astonishment that he would march off to war.
"You're not a fighter, Ian," I said as gently as I could. "And I need someone who knows what they're doing to stay here — to stay with me. I can't do this alone."
My brother closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. When he opened them again, he placed his glasses back on his nose and studied me. Undeniable sadness fractured his features. It might have been a trick of the morning light against his glasses, but there was a glistening near his eyes.
"I don't have a choice, Eilean. Father is as good as my king, even if it's not his title. Where he commands I go, I must go."
"Do you want to?"
"No," he said. His pale face turned ashen. "I'm scared."
There was no stopping the tears that flooded my eyes. I blinked them back, but it was impossible not to feel the desperate undertow of fear that also gripped me as it held my brother in thrall.
"And you leave in a week?" I asked, my voice breaking.
Ian nodded. "What of your warning about Lord Leslie's intentions?"
I shifted in my seat. It was difficult to feel so in the middle. To be forced to weigh the loyalty of one side of my heart against the demands of the other. "As far as I am aware, Alex intends on remaining neutral. He is unhappy that Father would put him in such a position."
"I don't blame him," Ian said matter-of-factly.
"Alex loves our father. Loves our family."
"It isn't fair to him, I know." Ian nodded, swallowing hard. He cleared his throat and looked away.
"How many men are you taking?" I dared ask, my mind flying back to the list of numbers.
"All of them," Ian confirmed. "Every man on Ellesmure between the ages of fifteen and fifty-five."
"Dear god," I whispered, the confirmation nearly shattering me. "Who is to protect us?" Closest to the Mainland. If there was a counter-attack, Ellesmure would be first.
Ian shook his head. He looked broken, a man without solutions for the first time in his life.
"What am I supposed to do?" I asked, chin trembling, tears falling onto my cheeks. I felt so young. So hopeless.
Ian's eyes and jaw were hard when he looked back at me and answered coldly, "Survive it. Whatever you have to do — you survive, Eilean."