Enya paused, her fingers ghosting over the rim of a silver cup. The weight of the last few days—the ledgers, the lies, the way Harald looked at her—pressed against her ribs. "I... I’m fine, I suppose," she managed, her voice sounding small and uncertain even to her own ears. "It's just a lot tae carry."
Ada let out a soft, knowing hum, leaning her head back against the chair. "It’s always like that in the beginning. Like ye’re walking on thin ice and waiting fer the first crack. Ye feel like a stranger in yer own skin, let alone his house."
"She’s right," Claricia added, rocking her son gently. "These lairds... they have control in their blood. But once they warm up tae?" She smiled, a private, luminous thing. "They’re the most loyal, caring men ye could find. They dinnae just protect ye; they worship the ground ye walk on."
Ada shifted, looking directly at Enya. "And Harald... he’s different even among them. He wears that scowl like a mask, but everyone in the Isles ken he has a heart o’ gold. He’s the one they all go tae when things break. He’s steady, Enya. Ye can let yer guard down a little. He willnae let ye fall."
Enya felt a strange, dizzying warmth spread through her chest. "Oh?" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
He’s steady.
The words echoed the truth she had seen in his study. Her intuition hadn't been a betrayal of her clan; it had been the truth. He wasn't the monster she was sent to destroy. He was the sanctuary she had been looking for her whole life.
The conversation loosened then, winding through small details: how Claricia’s travel had been with a crying baby and an Erik who glowered at anyone who suggested stopping; how Ada’s pregnancy had made her want to throw half the keep into the sea; how Amelia had been terrified Enya would be eaten alive by Norsemen.
Enya found herself listening more than she spoke, her chest still strangely open, her skin too sensitive to every look, every kindness. She kept waiting for the moment someone remembered her eyes, the old familiar rejection sliding in like a knife.
A knock at the door interrupted them and the four of them stilled.
Amelia’s eyes widened slightly.
“I’ll answer,” Enya said, already moving. She crossed the room and opened it a handspan.
A small boy stood there, no more than ten, cheeks red from the cold, boots too big, hands clutching a folded scrap of parchment like it might bite him.
The boy looked up at Enya with wide, frightened eyes. “Are ye Lady Enya?”
“Aye,” she said, keeping her voice gentle. “What is it, lad?”
The boy swallowed, then held out the note with both hands. “I was told tae give this tae ye. A man in the village. He said it was important.”
Enya’s gaze locked onto the seal before the paper even touched her skin. Finley.
For a heartbeat, a wild, foolish part of her wanted his familiarity. Then, anger surged up so fast it made her vision go bright at the edges.
He involved a child.
She took the note with careful fingers, as though it were filthy. Her smile did not falter. She forced it into place, because Claricia and Ada were watching and the boy was trembling.
“Thank ye,” Enya said softly. “That was very brave. What’s yer name?”
The boy blinked, startled by the question. “Iain,” he whispered.
“Iain.” Enya nodded as though he’d done something noble. “Ye’ve done well. Ye can go back now, aye? There’ll be hot broth in the kitchens if ye ask.”
The boy’s shoulders eased a fraction, relief loosening him.
Behind Enya, Claricia’s voice carried, gentle and curious. “Is it good news?”
Enya turned back into the room with the note in her hand, closing the door behind her. Her face remained composed. She held the paper lightly, as if it were something sweet rather than something that made her want to throw it into the fire with her bare hands.
“It’s from me braither,” she said, forcing softness into her voice. “I miss him dearly.”
Claricia’s expression melted. “That’s sweet.”
Ada nodded, eyes warm. “Family’s a hard tie tae cut.”
Only Amelia did not speak. Her gaze fixed on the seal, wide and alarmed, her mouth parting as if she wanted to warn Enya and could not do it without giving herself away.
