“Ye look awful, me Lady,” she remarked, though her eyes were kind. “As if ye’re waging a battle inside that head of yers.”
Despite herself, Sorcha chuckled. Avery gave her hand a small squeeze, like a little encouragement.
Rhea remained by the water, her arms folded loosely over her chest. “We came all this way to lift yer spirits,” she added with a crooked smile. “It would be a shame if ye let whatever is botherin’ ye ruin that.”
Sorcha groaned softly and leaned back on her hands. “I want to pull meself out of this funk,” she muttered. “Truly. I want to.” She exhaled harshly. “But whatever this is… it willnae leave me be long enough to breathe.”
Avery hummed. “A stubborn thought, then. Those are the worst kind.”
Sorcha nodded. They were indeed the worst kind.
She looked at the sisters, wondering if she could tell them everything she had heard.
Ever since William had told her about his parents, she had been researching the family. Something she should have done long ago, before proudly taking their name.
With a tired sigh, Sorcha decided to tell them what she found out about their father. Her late husband, in this situation.
“I think there’s a bad history somewhere. Buried deep…” She hesitated, but then forced the words out. “And I think… William hates yer faither.”
She instantly regretted saying it. The only reason she had told them was that she wanted to swap knowledge. Their father might have told them a thing or two while alive. Still, she loved the sisters and didn’t want to hurt them. Telling them that their cousin had hated their father certainly would not land easy.
Avery and Rhea seemed thoughtful for a moment.
Sorcha expected anger, shock, and hurt. Surprisingly, she got none of it. The sisters did not shout. They did not protest. They simply fell quiet. Too quiet.
“Say something.” Sorcha blinked slowly.
Avery was the first to smile. “Rumors arenae hard to hide,” she said. “Especially when everyone tries so hard to pretend they daenae exist.”
Rhea nodded. “Servants whisper,” she added. “They lower their voices when we pass by, but they forget that we’ve grown up hearing silence speak louder than words.”
“We’ve heard bits and pieces for years. Fragments. Contradictions,” Avery continued firmly.
“And pauses,” Rhea chimed in. “Too many pauses.”
Sorcha’s chest tightened. “So… ye kent already?”
“Wesuspected,” Avery corrected softly.
Rhea looked down at the grass, sounding uncertain now, as if she were choosing each word with care. “We’ve heard those rumors since we were little girls. That Faither may nae have been the savior history remembers.” She swallowed.
Something about her words was chilling. Could family history really be falsified because of greed?
It made Sorcha wonder which side was right. But deep down, she knew William was a good man. Yes, he could be fierce and all, but he was good.
She wanted to believe his part of the story. She knew him only a little. Far too little. And yet every instinct told her the same thing: William was a good man.
That thought lingered in her mind when they returned to the castle. The sun had already dipped low by then.
The sisters dismounted near the stables before stretching their limbs.
“We should all take a bath,” Rhea suggested brightly. “The water’s been warmed. Herbs and steam and all manner of miracles.”
Avery laughed. “Aye. We smell of horse and regret.”
Sorcha smiled faintly, but it never reached her eyes. “I think I’ll pass,” she said softly.
Avery frowned. “Are ye sure?”
