Rhea grabbed her other hand, her grip warm and eager. “A village, can ye imagine? Nay duties, nay expectations. Just peace!”
Their voices rang happily around her, but Sorcha barely registered it all. She nodded absently, her gaze still fixed on the door William had vanished through.
Something inside her had cracked, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the sisters noticed.
28
Their congratulations felt like a curse.
The words followed Sorcha through the garden paths. Everyone seemed so happy for her, especially the MacLean sisters.
They walked on either side of her, their voices bright, gesturing with their hands animatedly. They talked nonstop about a future that sounded nothing like the one she had dreamed of.
“A pretty cottage by the river would suit ye,” Avery said cheerfully, waving her hand as if the house already stood there. “Somethin’ with plenty of light and ample space. Ye’ve always liked open windows.”
Rhea scoffed, bumping her sister’s shoulder. “Light? Nay. She needs somethin’ dramatic. High ceilings, a view of the hills. If she’s to live free, it should feel like freedom.”
“Aye, and who’s payin’ for that?” Avery shot back, laughing. “Ye think freedom comes wrapped in silk?”
Rhea grinned. “If it doesnae, we’ll wrap it ourselves.”
Their laughter rang out, carefree and warm. They argued the way sisters did when happiness made them reckless—over curtains, gardens, and whether Sorcha should keep a horse or two. They teased each other about who would visit her most often, who would cry first when she left Dunrath Castle, and who would steal her away for visits she never asked for.
Sorcha heard nothing and everything. Her mind was still on the Great Hall. Still on the moment when William had reshaped her world with a few calm words.
Three days. Freedom. Leave the castle.
Her fingers tightened around her fan. And then, as though tired of holding herself together for so long, a sigh slipped past her lips. It was soft, broken. It shook through her, such that her fan slid from her grasp, hitting the ground softly.
The sisters skidded to a halt.
Avery turned first, her smile fading just enough to show concern. “Sorcha?”
Rhea’s expression softened. “Ye’ve gone quiet.”
Sorcha bent to pick up the fan. She smoothened her fingers over its painted surface, as if the motion could slow her thoughts. Then she lifted her head and offered them a smile she had perfected long ago, one that hid more than it revealed.
Avery stepped closer, clearly reading through it. She wrapped her arms around Sorcha, squeezing her tight. “Ye must be feelin’ everything at once,” she said gently. “Sad to leave us, but happy too, aye? Free, at last.”
The wordfreestruck her again.
A dry laugh escaped Sorcha’s lips. Then she briefly rested her forehead against Avery’s shoulder. “Aye,” she murmured. “Something like that.”
It was a lie. A careful one.
She pulled back, fanning herself lightly. “I’ll manage,” she added, straightening her shoulders. “I always do.”
They resumed walking, their pace slower now. The gardens surrounding them were in full bloom. Roses adorned the stone walls, and bees hovered lazily near the lavender bushes.
Rhea gestured around them. “Take it all in,” she urged. “Best to do it while ye still can. Dunrath looks bonnier when ye ken ye’ll miss it.”
Sorcha nodded, though her heart was still heavy.
When they reached the bend where the path split, Rhea leaned closer, her eyes shining. “So, how soon?” she asked, her voice barely containing her excitement.
Sorcha stopped walking. She stared ahead for a long moment. A resolve close to rebellion welled within her. She couldn’t leave just like that. She had never been that obedient.
“Nae yet,” she answered, eventually.
