Leona watched him go, her hand pressed to her chest where her heart hammered against her ribs.
Everything was falling apart. The fragile peace she’d found here, the tentative happiness, the belief that maybe, just maybe, she could have something good.
All of it was crumbling because Ragnall couldn’t let her go. Because he needed her dowry, her claim to the Gilmore lands, to secure his own position.
She made her way to her chambers on unsteady legs, each step feeling like walking through mud. The halls were quiet at this late hour, what with most of the castle asleep. Only the night guards remained, their presence a reminder that danger lurked beyond these walls.
When she finally reached her door, she paused with her hand on the latch.
Murdock, whatever his personal feelings, would have to put his clan first. That was what good leaders did. They made hard choices, sacrificed personal desires for the greater good.
She couldn’t blame him for that. Wouldn’t blame him.
But God, it was going to hurt.
Leona pushed open the door and stepped into her new chambers. The fire had been banked for the night, leaving the room in shadows. She moved to the window, looking out at the dark landscape beyond.
Somewhere out there, Ragnall was waiting. Planning. Preparing for war if she didn’t return.
And here, in this castle that had briefly felt like home, people were deciding whether she was worth fighting for.
She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, exhaustion and despair washing over her in equal measure.
She’d thought, for just a few brief hours, that she might have found something real. Something worth keeping.
But fairytales were for children, and she’d learned long ago that happy endings were nothing but lies told to make the darkness more bearable.
17
Sleep refused to come.
Leona had lain in her chambers for hours, staring at the ceiling as the darkness gradually shifted to the gray light of predawn. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the faces from the gathering, the suspicion, the fear, the anger.
She’d become a problem to be solved. A liability. No matter how much Murdock had promised that nothing would happen, she couldn’t shake the certainty that the council would demand her departure. That they’d choose the safety of their clan over one stranger who’d brought nothing but trouble.
And they’d be right to do so.
The thought sat like a stone in her chest.
Finally, as the first hints of dawn touched the sky, Leona gave up on sleep entirely. She dressed quietly, pulling on a simple gown and wrapping her cloak around her shoulders. The castle was still, most of its inhabitants lost to dreams she could no longer claim.
She moved through the corridors like a ghost, her footsteps muffled by rushes on the floor. No guards challenged her.
Why would they? She wasn’t a prisoner. Not yet, anyway.
The cool morning air hit her face as she slipped through a side door, and she breathed it in deeply, letting it clear some of the fog from her mind. The sky was painted in shades of purple and pink, the sun not yet risen but promising its arrival. It would have been beautiful if her heart hadn’t broken.
Her feet carried her without conscious thought, following a path that wound through the castle grounds. Past the kitchen gardens, past the armory, past the stables, where Thunder likely dozed in his stall. The path led downward, toward a sound she hadn’t noticed before, the gentle lap of water against stone.
The loch.
It spread before her like a mirror, reflecting the dawn sky in perfect stillness. Trees lined its edges, their branches reaching toward the water as if in prayer. A wooden dock extended into the depths, weathered gray by time and the elements.
Leona walked to the end of the dock and sat, letting her legs dangle over the edge. The water was close enough to touch if she wanted, dark and deep and promising oblivion.
She wouldn’t, of course. Despite everything, despite the hopelessness sinking into her bones, she wouldn’t take that way out, wouldn’t leave others to clean up the mess of her departure.
But God, she understood the appeal.
