"Maisie! Look at Hugh, he found a ladybird!" Norah exclaimed, sweeping the youngest boy into her arms as he squealed.
Maisie laughed, stooping to examine the tiny insect on his finger. "Aye, and Arran's hidin' behind ye like a wee spy," she said, reaching for the older boy and spinning him about.
The children shrieked with laughter, and for a moment, Maisie forgot the weight of the castle walls around her as her prison.
Isabelle caught her hand as she straightened, her smile mischievous. "Maisie, ye will greatly enjoy the full moon feast this eve," she said, eyes twinkling.
Maisie paused, startled. "A feast? Is it a festival?" she asked, curiosity tinged with anxiety.
Isabelle tilted her head, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "It's nae grand, mind ye. Just supper in the great hall, with decoration and dancin'. And every lady wears flowers in her hair, it's tradition."
Maisie frowned, trying to imagine herself among a crowd of petite women, all adorned with blooms, and herself rising high above them like a stone tower.
"Flowers? Why must we wear flowers in our hair?" she asked, feeling a blush creep up her neck.
Isabelle laughed, the sound bright and musical. "'Tis an old custom, Maisie. It shows that the bounty of the tides is in the hearts of fair maidens as well as in the sea. A wee way to honor the fish moon and bring joy to the clan."
Maisie giggled, shaking her head in amusement. "Ye mean to say we must parade about with flowers like some kind of courtly ladies?" she teased, adjusting her shawl as the children ran past her once more.
Isabelle caught her elbow and squeezed it playfully. "Aye, but it's all in fun. Besides, it's rare ye get to wear flowers in yer hair without a care in the world."
She thought of the dance awaiting her that night and felt a twinge of embarrassment; her height had always made her self-conscious, and she disliked towering over the men as they shuffled about the floor.
After playing in the sun, she returned to her room, her mind still fretting over the evening's dance, and froze when she saw the small bouquet of yellow flowers resting atop her bed.
Beside them lay a green gown of the most elaborate design she had ever seen, and a folded note that read,"Wear these in yer hair this evenin', that's an order – Caiden."
Her heart skipped a beat at the boldness of the command, and for a moment she stood frozen, cradling the flowers in her hands. The audacity of him made her pulse race, and a flush of both anger and delight spread across her cheeks.
She sank onto the edge of her bed, holding the delicate bouquet close, and tried to imagine herself wearing the flowers in her hair. The green gown shimmered like sunlight on the sea,with embroidery along the bodice and delicate lace tracing the sleeves.
She hugged the dress to her chest, feeling a rare surge of joy and warmth, as though the act of receiving it had momentarily lifted the weight of her captivity. For the first time in weeks, she felt not like a prisoner, but like a lady.
Her mind wandered as she touched the petals, considering how a man had never given her flowers or a gown before, and the sweetness of the gesture made her heart ache with a strange longing. For a fleeting instant, she forgot the castle walls and Caiden's watchful presence, imagining instead the music and joy of the evening.
She shook her head at her own foolishness but couldn't deny the thrill that ran through her at the thought of obeying his order.
Maisie carefully placed the gown upon a chair, taking one last look at the yellow blooms, imagining how they would catch the light woven into her hair.
The green of the dress would complement her eyes, and the yellow flowers would brighten her face as she danced.
A blush rose to her cheeks at the thought, despite her discomfort with her height, and she whispered softly to herself, "Perhaps this night willnae be so dreadful after all."
The combination of fear, excitement, and curiosity left her trembling slightly as she prepared for the evening to come.
Maisie stepped into the great hall, her breath catching as she took in the scene. The hall was awash with flickering candlelight, and garlands of yellow and white flowers hung from the beams, interspersed with ribbons that swayed in the gentle draft.
Musicians played fiddles and a lute, the lilting melody weaving around the chatter and laughter of the clansmen gathered for the full moon feast. The tables were laden with roasted fish, fresh bread, cheeses, and sweet cakes, the aroma mingling with the salt air drifting through the open windows.
As she crossed the threshold, conversation faltered and all eyes turned toward her. Her cheeks burned crimson, and her hands fidgeted with the folds of her gown, the green silk shimmering under the candlelight. The hall felt suddenly immense and intimidating, every pair of eyes weighing her as if she were the centerpiece of some great display.
Then, Caiden appeared at her side, his presence commanding yet familiar, and he offered his arm.
"Ye look like a vision, Maisie," he murmured, guiding her gently to the dais and seating her beside him.
She swallowed, her voice small and hesitant. "I…thank ye, Laird. I dinnae ken the hall would be… so… bright."
"Aye, bright enough to match the glow in yer cheeks," Caiden teased, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Sit close, lass, else I might take it upon meself to rescue ye from yon gawkin' eyes."
