Catherine sat apart from them, her back to the door, eyes fixed on the small window where the faintest trace of moonlight slipped through. She could see the guards accompanying them huddled around a fire just outside. She hadn’t spoken much since they’d left Achnacarry. Her sisters had tried at first, with their gentle questions and soft reassurances, but she had answered only in fragments, her voice too fragile to hold steady.
Now, in the quiet, the ache pressed harder.
“Ye’ve been awfully still,” Alyson murmured without opening her eyes. “I thought I’d get some peace when ye werenae scoldin’ me fer somethin’, but it feels wrong when ye’re this quiet.”
Catherine turned her head slightly, managing a faint smile. “I’m fine.”
Sofia stirred, blinking sleepily. “Ye’re nae fine. Ye’ve hardly said a word since we left. What is it, Cat? Ye’re frettin’ about somethin’.”
Catherine hesitated. The words caught in her throat, thick with everything she’d held back. She looked from one sister to theother, both of them watching her now, their faces soft in the firelight.
“I…” Her voice faltered, then steadied, low and trembling. “It’s Aidan.”
Alyson sat up at once. “Aidan?”
Catherine nodded. “I thought I hated him when we met. He was cold and distant and—God forgive me—I wanted tae prove I was stronger. But somewhere between all the fightin’ and all the words I shouldnae have said, I stopped hatin’ him. I stopped wantin’ tae leave.”
Her sisters exchanged a look but said nothing. Catherine pressed on, the flood she’d held back for days breaking loose.
“He drives me mad,” she said softly. “He makes me feel things I dinnae understand. He looks at me like he can see straight through me, and when he touches me…” She stopped, her cheeks warming. “It’s like the world goes quiet. I dinnae ken when it happened, but it did. And now he’s gone, and I feel as if I’ve left somethin’ o’ meself behind that I cannae live without.”
The fire crackled. Alyson’s mouth parted, eyes wide. Sofia was the first to speak. “Ye love him.”
Catherine’s throat tightened. The word felt too big, too dangerous. But lying seemed impossible.
“Aye,” she whispered. “I dae.”
Silence followed, long and heavy. The only sound was the wind brushing against the windowpane. Alyson shook her head slowly, more in surprise than disapproval. “Well, that explains the way ye’ve been starin’ off intae the horizon like a ghost.”
Sofia’s tone softened. “Daes he ken?”
Catherine looked down at her hands. “He must. He felt it too. I could see it in his eyes when he said goodbye. But he’ll never let himself say it.”
Alyson exhaled. “Then he’s a fool.”
Catherine smiled faintly. “Aye. But maybe so am I.”
No one spoke after that. Her sisters drifted back into uneasy sleep, their breathing filling the room. Catherine lay awake beside them, staring at the ceiling until the fire sank low and the first pale light of dawn crept across the floorboards.
Her thoughts would not rest. She saw Aidan’s face in every shadow—the line of his jaw, the weight of his gaze, the way his voice softened when he said her name. The memory ached, sharp and sweet all at once. He had sent her away to protect her, but what use was safety if it meant living without him?
By the time the horizon began to blush with morning, her mind was clear. She could no longer wait for fate—or men—to decidewhat became of her. She had chosen once before to be brave, and she would choose it again.
Quietly, she rose, the faint light of dawn softening the chamber enough for her to see the curve of her sisters’ faces as clearly as if she were committing them to memory. She meant to slip away without waking them, but the floorboard creaked when she reached for her cloak, and Sofia stirred, her lashes fluttering before her eyes opened fully.
“Catherine?” Her voice was thick with sleep, confused. “Where are ye goin’?”
Alyson pushed up on her elbows at the sound, her hair a dark tumble around her face. “What’s happened? Is something wrong?”
Catherine sank to her knees beside their bed, taking each of their hands in hers, her throat tightening as she tried to find breath enough for words. “Naething is wrong,” she whispered, though the ache in her chest told a different truth. “I just… I cannae leave it tae others tae decide where I belong. I have tae go back tae Aidan.”
Sofia’s eyes widened, soft and frightened. “Alone?”
“Aye. I’ll be faster that way.” Catherine brushed a trembling hand along her sister’s cheek. “Ye’ll both be safe in the Lowlands. That was always the plan. But this… this part is me life.”
Alyson sat fully upright now, her mouth unsteady even as she tried to keep her composure. “We may nae agree with ye,” she murmured, “but we ken ye well enough tae understand that there is nay changin’ yer mind. Just… promise us ye’ll come back fer us.”
Catherine leaned forward and held them both, the three pressed together in the thin morning light, the silence thick with fear and love and the weight of everything they could not say. “I will,” she whispered against their hair. “I swear it.”
