His gaze darkened—just for a flicker, but enough that she felt it like a shift in the wind. For a moment, he didn’t speak, and his shoulders slumped forward. He seemed so dejected, so defeated, that Elsie didn’t know what to make of it.
“Aye,” he said slowly. “That was the plan.”
The way he spoke the words made Elsie think they pained him, much more than she could have ever expected.
“But?” she pressed, trying to figure out what it was that bothered him so.
He looked away, toward the frost-laced window. “But the roads are still dangerous, the borders unsettled. And Bowen Harcourt grows bold.”
Elsie swallowed down the panic that threatened to creep up her throat when she thought of Harcourt and everything he could still attempt against her. But she couldn’t allow that panic to stop her from reaching her sister. Selene waited for her, and Elsie knew she wouldn’t rest until they were reunited—simply because if their roles were reversed, Elsie wouldn’t rest either.
“I know. But my sister…” Her voice cracked. “She doesn’t know what is happening to me.”
Halvard turned back to her, something raw and vulnerable flickering across his face before he forced it down. “Elsie, dae ye truly wish tae leave so badly?”
Elsie’s lips parted around a soft gasp. She hadn’t expected the question, nor the hurt behind it.
“It’s not that,” she said. “I… I want to stay with you, with the people here. But I can’t bear the thought of Selene suffering. I want to at least write her again.”
“It is too dangerous right now, there is too much of a risk of the letter bein’ intercepted,” Halvard said in a strangled voice.
For a single heartbeat, the truth sat between them—naked, heavy, bright. Elsie wanted him, and the realization strained every line of Halvard’s body. He stepped back, as though afraid that if he stayed too close, he would close the distance and kiss her until both their doubts disappeared.
“We’ll speak o’ it later,” he said quietly. “When the roads clear.”
Elsie nodded, though her chest ached. Something welled up inside her—something she couldn’t name or identify, but which ran like ice through her, chilling her to the core. It was an ache that had no cure, no relief.
And without another word, Halvard left the room with a final look she couldn’t decipher—longing mixed with fear.
The scent of rosemary and damp peat filled the kitchen as Elsie helped Muirin knead dough for the evening meal. Muirin kept swatting her hands away.
“Ye’re a stubborn one,” Muirin said, though her eyes warmed. “Most English ladies would faint at the sight o’ flour on their gowns.”
Elsie laughed, shaking her head. Everyone in the castle seemed to think she was too fragile, even for something like that, but she was eager to prove them wrong. Never in her life had she feared any such thing, and though she couldn’t claim to havemuch experience in the kitchens, she could certainly help with the kneading of the dough.
“Well, I rather like flour,” she said with a small shrug.
“Aye, an’ ye rather like?—”
“Muirin!” Elsie warned, her cheeks warming when Muirin smirked knowingly.
“She’ll deny it till her grave,” Muirin muttered to no one in particular.
Elsie opened her mouth to protest, but a guard burst into the kitchen, bowing his head. “Me lady, the laird seeks yer presence in his study.”
Her heart skipped, bile rising to the back of her throat. With everything happening around them those days, it was difficult to keep her mind from jumping to the worst conclusion immediately.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
The guard hesitated. “There… is someone with him.”
Someone?
Elsie wiped her hands on her apron and hurried down the corridor, the draft biting at her cheeks. But when she entered Halvard’s study, she halted mid-step.
Halvard stood near the hearth, his arms crossed, his expression carved from stone. Beside him, small and trembling, was the boy—the very boy who had lured her from the safety of the castle. His clothes were thin, patched poorly. His eyes darted up at her, wide and wet, and Elsie’s heart twisted.
“Oh,” she whispered.
