"Moira!" The cook's voice carried through the kitchen. "Come show Lady Cameron around. Make certain she kens where everythin' is."
The same grey-haired woman who'd helped Enya on her first night appeared, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Aye, Greer. Come along, me lady. I'll give ye the tour."
The kitchens were organized chaos—servants rushing between hearths and prep tables, carrying platters and stirring pots and chopping vegetables with practiced efficiency.
Moira introduced Enya to each person they passed, and while some looked wary, none were openly hostile.
It was more than Enya had dared hope for.
They were examining the stores when raised voices echoed from the main hall. Enya glanced at Moira, who sighed.
"The children, most like. They're always underfoot this time of day." But there was fondness in her tone. "Come on. Ye should meet them too."
The main hall was indeed full of children—at least a dozen, ranging from toddlers to near-adolescents. They were chasing each other around the tables, shrieking with laughter, while two harried-looking women tried unsuccessfully to herd them.
And in the middle of it all, reaching up to a high shelf while a tiny maid stood on tiptoe beside him, was Harald.
Enya stopped in the doorway, unable to look away.
"Just a bit more, me laird," the maid was saying. "I can almost reach it."
"Ye're goin' tae fall and crack yer skull." Harald's voice was patient despite the chaos around them. "Here. Let me."
He reached past her easily, retrieving what looked like a serving platter from the top shelf. The maid's face lit up with gratitude.
"Thank ye, me laird! I've been tryin' tae reach that all mornin'."
"Why didnae ye ask fer help sooner?" But there was no censure in Harald's tone. Just genuine curiosity.
"I didnae want tae trouble anyone."
"It's nae trouble, Bess." Harald handed her the platter. "But next time, just ask. Better that than ye breakin' yer neck tryin' tae be independent."
"Aye, me laird." Bess bobbed a curtsy and hurried away, clutching her prize.
Harald turned and immediately had to catch a small child who'd crashed into his legs while fleeing another.
"Careful there, Tam." Harald steadied the boy with one hand. "Ye'll dae yerself an injury runnin' like that."
"Sorry, me laird!" The boy—Tam—grinned up at him without a trace of fear. "We're playin' raiders and defenders!"
"Are ye now?" Harald's mouth quirked. "And which are ye?"
"A raider! The fiercest one!" Tam brandished a wooden sword. "I'm the Hawk of Lewis, and I'm defendin' me island from—" He stopped, his eyes going wide as he spotted Enya. "From... oh."
The hall went quiet as one by one, the children noticed her. Enya felt the weight of their stares, saw the way some of them stepped back instinctively.
They'd already heard the stories. Already decided she was something to fear.
But before the silence could stretch too long, Harald spoke.
"Tam, this is Lady Enya Cameron." His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "She's goin' tae be the lady of this castle. Which means ye should probably show her the same respect ye show me."
"Even though she's got the Norns' mark?" One of the older girls asked, her voice uncertain.
"Exactly." Harald's tone sharpened slightly. "The Norns are powerful, aye. But that daesnae make Lady Enya dangerous. It makes her marked fer somethin' important. And we're lucky tae have her here."
