Even their father had noticed it; he was ashamed of her features. That had to be it. He could not stand that Isla did not have the familiar features of a Robinson; she shamed him by looking so terribly different. Isla wanted to cover her face, suddenly ashamed of herself. She had never thought that she was unattractive.
Annabella looked more like a twin to Elayne than to Isla. They both shared the same healthy head of bright red hair, and their eyes were similar shades of green; Elayne's more emerald, where Annabella's were hazel. She had always envied them those lovely traits; it had nearly made her two sisters look like fae out of the fable's they'd loved as children.
And so she would be sent off far away, likely to never hear from her father again. If he wanted her gone that quickly and that badly, surely he cared nothing for her. She had always known her father to be distant towards her, but never did she think that his heart could be filled with hate and disdain for her.
It did not help her cause that she'd always been so fiercely stubborn and bull-headed. She knew that she caused her father grief in her desire to be of her own mind and follow her heart, but did he really hate her with such fervor?
Could he really not even stand to look at her that much?
Her shoulders drooped as she lowered her head, ashamed. Isla now wished that she hadn't been quite so willful as a girl and now as a young woman. Elayne and Annabella had always been obedient and quiet, never arguing with their father nor anyone else, not even between themselves. Never once had they shirked their duties in favor of an autumn ride on Brigida. She had rarely, if at all saw them doing anything that would turn any heads.
If only I could have been tha' way... Perhaps Father would not be throwin' me away quite so fast.
The footsteps were right next to her door now, but they rounded the corner and kept going. They were headed downstairs somewhere, presumably to carry on this conversation about her.
"Och! If only there was a way to get word to Laird Thompson faster," her father complained, bitterness in his voice. "The lass has caused me far too much trouble these last few years. And now..."
Her father's voice faded out of earshot, and Isla let her eyes fill with tears. Her vision blurred as her heart ripped at the seams, little by little. Not only would she suffer through another affection-less birthday from her father, but she would also have to carry the knowledge that he held no love in his heart for at all.
She did not know if she could face her sisters with these thoughts burning in the back of her mind, but either way, they would seek her out soon if she did not find them first. It would not do to be surprised, not while she knew what they did not.
She scrubbed at her eyes hard with the back of her hand and pulled the door open. Isla took one solid breath and stood up tall; no one would be suspicious of her if she acted as she normally did. She would smile, keep that glint in her eye and be as stubborn as she always had. If he was going to send her away regardless, then it did not matter if she changed her ways from wildcat to sheep-like anyway.
Isla made her way down the stone steps in the opposite direction that her father had taken along with the maid; it was the long way to the gardens, but she did not care. She did not know if she could hold herself together enough to look her father in the eye. Besides, her sisters were probably already down in the grass with handfuls of herbs, braiding each other's red hair.
She hurried her step, feeling the coolness of the air around her grow colder as she descended to the first floor of the Robertson Castle. As she had suspected, Elayne and Annabella were already giggling about something under one of the apple trees. They were making flower crowns of heather and knotgrass and looked as though they were having a fine time without her. Though she loved the both of them much, her twin had always seemed closer to their older sister than to Isla.
"Isla!" Annabella cried when she spied her. "Oh, sister, yer finally up! Sleepy head, we thought ye would slumber your entire birthday away!"
Elayne looked up, her green eyes brightening. "We did," she said. "Neither of us wanted to wake ye, though. Thought ye might attack us like some sort of wild beast if we dared to!"
The two of them fell about laughing, and Isla felt her heart soften; at least the two of them still loved her and always had.
"Here, love," Elayne said, holding something out to her. "We made this one as a birthday gift; Annabella thought tha' it would make your dark hair stand out in such a lovely way."
It was a flower crown, but it was crafted from a different set of flowers. Interwoven together were the bright, cerulean blue of heath milkwort and yellow marsh marigolds. Annabella hopped up, her tartan cloak catching the wind, and placed it upon her head.
"There!" she crowed. "Ye look like a sprite about to drink the dew from the waterlilies, sister. Lovely as ever!"
Isla felt her eyes grow teary at the words, feeling her doubts about her appearance slip away. It was only the most terrible shame that she would be sent away from her sisters soon enough, though they did not have to know that. She smiled as they chattered to her idly, secretly committing this moment to memory.
She wanted to bring this thought up in her mind when she was carted away, far across the highlands. This one, and many others. Just because her father wanted to erase his existence from his memory did not mean that she wanted to forget her sisters.
Isla knew that she could not take her time with them for granted. Once she was married off to some far-off clan, it would be quite difficult to ever see them again. Any day now might be the last time she ever sees them. She did not know when that time would come, but it was sure to be soon.
They spent most of the afternoon together, picking the buds from the wild clover flowers and wandering around the orchard. The late summer had the scent of fresh water and rosemary, carried on the breeze. Isla told herself she would remember this forever.
When Isla left her sisters, she felt a little better, though not much. The beginnings of homesickness had already begun to sprout in her heart; she could either pull it out by the roots or foster it and accept its existence. She chose the latter. Isla miserably trudged up the stone stairs towards her bedchamber and down the hall, unable to mask her sadness any longer.
She pushed the door open and hung her tartan up on the back of the carved wooden chair in her room, sighing. She collapsed into her bed, defeated and upset, and contemplated sleeping the rest of her birthday away when there came a sound like parchment sliding against wood.
Isla sat up, frowning. When she glanced down at her door, there was something there that had certainly not been before. She stood warily, her eyes locked on the sheet of parchment, folded into a little rectangle. Confused, she quickly stepped over to it, staring at the paper for only a moment longer before she bent low to pick it up.
With the parchment in her hands, she wrenched open the wooden door and quickly stepped outside. To her surprise, there was no one outside of her door. Her breath hitched, and she swiveled her head to see if she could spy anyone, but there was no one at all.
She was completely alone.
All that was left of whoever had just visited her was the quickly fleeing footsteps that disappeared down the stairs and out of sight, into the shadows of the floor below.
