I allowed him to lead me, my limbs leaden with exhaustion, my mind too fractured to resist. The massive tree spread its branches above us, creating a sheltered bower that felt removed from the world. Munro helped me sit on a raised root, then crouched before me, his expression unreadable.
“The lasses are coming,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
Shame washed over me anew. “I’m sorry I did nae stick to the plan for the day.”
“Nay,” he said, reaching toward my face, hesitating, then continuing his journey to brush a strand of hair from my cheek. The calloused pad of his thumb ran along my damp skin, and I fought the urge to lean into his touch. “I’m sorry for snapping at ye. It’s just, well—” He sat quiet for a moment, and I had the feeling he was deciding what to say. “I was scared for Bess,” hefinally said, “and reacted poorly.” I had the strange sensation he was holding something back, but I let him. I was keeping my own secrets, after all.
“What happened back there?” he asked, his voice low and surprisingly gentle.
I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came. Instead, fresh tears spilled down my cheeks, and my shoulders shook with sobs I couldn’t control. To my astonishment, a gentle hand brushed over my head.
“Breathe, lass,” he murmured. “Just breathe.”
I tried to obey, dragging in ragged breaths between sobs, fighting for composure as the patter of small running feet grew closer. Guinn and Bess appeared at the edge of our sheltered spot with faces pinched with worry. Munro’s hand stilled on my hair, but he didn’t withdraw it.
“Tell me what happened,” he said, and though it was a command, there was a gentleness beneath it that I hadn’t heard from him before. “Tell me why ye cried out for someone named Lisette.”
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. The shadows beneath the oak danced across Munro’s face as he crouched before me, waiting. The lasses settled on the ground at my feet, their young faces turned up to mine, expectant. How could I begin to tell this story I’d kept locked away for so long? The tale of my greatest shame, my deepest wound? My fingers dug into my palms, the sharp pain a welcome distraction from the ache in my heart. I had to tell it. Something inside of me now demanded its release.
“Lisette was my sister,” I finally said, the words emerging rough and raw. “She was a year younger than me. We were inseparable.” I paused, memories washing over me in waves that threatened to drown me once more. “Until I killed her.”
“I do nae believe ye killed her,” Munro said quietly, and the certainty in his voice surprised me.
His unexpected belief in me nearly undid me all over again, but I forced myself to continue. I needed to make him and the lasses understand.
“It was winter,” I said, my back straightening, shoulders squaring as if preparing for a physical blow. “We had gone to visit old Magda, a cottager who lived on the far side of our lands. She made the most wonderful honey cakes, and we’d spend hours listening to her stories.”
I could see it all so clearly—Magda’s tiny cottage, the fire crackling in the hearth, Lisette’s face alight with wonder as the old woman spun tales of faeries and ancient battles.
“We stayed too long,” I continued, my voice flat now, stripped of emotion as a protective measure. “Da had a rule that we were to be home before dark, always. The days were short, and we knew we’d broken his rule. He would be angry, perhaps even forbid us from visiting Magda again.” I inhaled a ragged breath. “There was a loch between Magda’s cottage and our home,” I said. “The path around it that we were supposed to take, that we had agreed on that morning when we set out to take, would make us late if we went that way. We would nae reach the stronghold before dark if we stuck to our plan.” I pressed my fingertips to my now pounding temples. “The loch was frozen solid. It had been for weeks.”
“And ye thought to cross it,” Munro said. It wasn’t a question.
I nodded. “I told Lisette we should take the shortcut across the ice. That it would save us time, get us home before dark.” I had to pause because my throat was tightening mercilessly, and I needed to swallow. “It was my idea. My decision to change our plan.”
“Did ye force her?” Munro asked in a gentle but probing tone.
I blinked at him, and I could feel my brows pull together. “What?”
“Did ye force yer sister to walk across the ice?” he clarified. “Did ye drag her? Threaten her?”
“Of course, nae,” I said, shaking my head. “But I was the elder. I was responsible—”
“Did she agree to the plan?” Munro interrupted. “Did she choose to follow ye?”
I knew what he was trying to do, and something inside me rebelled against it. “She trusted me,” I said fiercely. “She always trusted me to keep her safe.”
“That’s nae what I asked,” he persisted. “Did she make her own choice?”
“Aye,” I admitted reluctantly, the word scraping my throat. “She said it was a good idea. She was excited by the adventure of it.”
Bess shifted closer to me, her small hand coming to rest on my knee. Her light touch anchored me to the present.
“We were nearly across,” I continued, the words coming faster now. “The shore was in sight. I remember thinking we’d been clever, that Da need nae ever ken we’d been late at all. And then—” My voice broke, and I had to force myself to continue. “The ice cracked beneath Lisette’s feet. I tried to reach her,” I whispered, staring at my hands as if they still dripped with icy water. “I crawled toward her, but the ice kept breaking. She went under before I could grab her hand. I plunged my arms into the water, searching for her, but she was gone.”
A tear dropped onto my hand. “By the time help came, it was far too late,” I finished. “They had to drag me from the loch. I would nae leave, would nae stop searching for her.” I looked up at Munro, meeting his eyes directly for the first time. “Do ye understand now? I broke from our planned route home. I suggested the shortcut. And because of that, my sister died.”
Munro’s face had grown darker with each word, his brow furrowing deeper until he looked almost fierce. “God’s blood,” he erupted, rising to his full height to tower over me, “is that why ye plan everything? Ye fear nae doing so?”
