Ava’s heart melted, as it did every time he reminded her they had forever to share.
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “I was thinking that if he grows any faster, we’ll have to build a bigger castle.”
Caden laughed—the kind of laugh that still caught her off guard with its openness. A year had changed him. Not softened him, precisely, but stripped away the hardness that had once masqueraded as strength.
“He’ll grow into it,” he said. “Just like we all do.”
Nathan and Thalia skated back toward them. The boy was holding his aunt’s hand, helping her skate. It was quite funny to see a four-year-old helping a twenty-one-year old. Their cheeks were flushed, their breath puffing in little clouds.
“Can we have the fire now?” Nathan begged.
Thalia brightened. “Aye, please. Me toes are beginning to resent me.”
“Aye,” Ava said, ready to sit down. She had been more out of breath as of late. “Let’s warm up.”
They made their way carefully off the ice and toward the sheltered edge of the loch, where a small fire already crackled. It was built earlier by Caden and Nathan, the stones carefully placed, the wind blocked just so it would not blow out.
Thick blankets were spread over the snow, weighed down at the corners by stones or logs. A basket sat nearby, filled with bread, cheese, apples, and a small jar of honey that Thalia had insisted on bringing. It was a perfect setup.
Nathan dropped down immediately, reaching for a loaf of bread and shoving a large chunk into his mouth. His jaw worked hard and fast at chewing.
“Slow,” Ava urged. “Ye’ll choke.”
“I willnae!” he replied after swallowing the massive bite.
“Nathan,” Caden scolded. “Listen to yer maither. Daenae be cheeky.”
The boy opened his mouth wide to pop in another chunk, then paused and took a smaller bite. “See? I listened.” He grinned widely.
Thalia laughed softly. “That’s a miracle.”
Caden settled beside Ava and stretched his legs toward the fire. She relaxed back against his solid chest with a contented sigh. Thalia sat opposite them, tucking her skirts neatly beneath her before extending her hands toward the fire.
For a while, they ate in easy silence.
The fire crackled. Somewhere across the loch, a bird twittered. The world felt wide, quiet, and kind.
Eventually, Nathan broke the silence, chattering about skating and ice and how Uncle Finlay had promised to teach him to throw stones properly come spring.
“And Aunt Thalia promised to teach me about plants,” he added. “The good ones and poisonous ones.”
Thalia raised an eyebrow, before popping a bite of cheese into her mouth. “I said we’d talk about the differences.”
“That’s what I said,” Nathan replied cheekily.
Ava rolled her eyes and smiled at her sister. “Ye’ve taken on the role well.”
Thalia shrugged, though her eyes shone. “Someone must teach him how to survive foolish men.”
Caden coughed and shook his head, his brow furrowed. “I’m right here.”
Thalia smirked at him. “Exactly.”
When Nathan paused at last to breathe, Ava cleared her throat.
“I ken we arenae wearing crazy clothes, but I have a crazy story,” she said nervously.
Nathan’s head snapped up. “Now? Here?”
