“This is the one,” she said. “This is perfect.”
Freya had to admit that even if every other dress had looked good enough to her, this was the one that looked the best. It was a deep green silk, the fabric soft under her hands and the color bringing out the green in her eyes and the fiery red of her hair. Her lips parted as she looked at her reflection, her mouth hanging slightly open in shock at how good the dress looked—at how good she looked. She had always considered herself pretty enough—like many other peasant girls on the island, but unlike girls like Morgana, who could take a man’s breath away simply by walking by. Now, maybe, just maybe, she could blend in with the rest of the nobles.
As long as I dinnae open me mouth.
“Thank ye,” she said, looking at Morgana through the looking-glass. “This is… this is amazing. I cannae thank ye enough.”
“Ye dinnae need tae thank me,” Morgana assured her, giving her a pat on the shoulder. “Ye look so bonnie, Freya.”
Freya beamed at her, unable to contain her excitement. “I’ve been feeling… out of place,” she admitted. “Ever since James brought me here, I’ve been feeling like I dinnae belong, but ye’ve truly helped me.”
“Dinnae fash,” Morgana said with a small smile. “I’m sure it’s a big change fer ye, but ye’ll get used tae it soon.”
Freya could only hope that was true. With James’ parents there, she didn’t know how this place could ever feel like home, nor did she know whether she could stay there, after all. Morgana spoke as though this would be her home for a long while still, but Freya herself was not as confident.
Even if James wanted her there, he had his duties to perform. And Freya didn’t know where she fit into all that.
“I must go ahead and greet the guests,” Morgana said as she headed to the door. “But the lasses will help ye with yer hair. Ye can stay here and come to the feast once ye’re ready.”
Freya nodded, watching Morgana leave the room as the two maids got to work once more, brushing her locks and pinning them up into an intricate updo. By the time they were finished, she could hardly recognize herself. Gone was the bird’s nest she often sported whenever her hair was let down. Gone was the frumpy braid in which she often put it whenever she was in a rush and had to battle the wind and the salt of the sea.
Now, her hair looked slick and soft, and the strands framed her face beautifully. The girls assisting her were truly talented, and Freya couldn’t help but be grateful to them for all the help.
“Thank ye,” she said. “Is there anything I can dae tae repay ye? Anything?”
“Ach, dinnae fash, me lady,” said one of the girls. “This is naething. It is our job.”
“Still… if ye ever need anything, come tae me, I am a healer” Freya said, for she didn’t know what she could offer them other than her healing services.
Once she was ready, Freya left Morgana’s room and tried to orient herself. She had no idea in which part of the castle she was. While Morgana had been dragging her along down the hallways, she had neglected to pay attention to her surroundings, too stunned to do anything other than follow along blindly. Now, it proved to have been a mistake.
With a deep sigh, she began to roam the hallways, trying to find anything that seemed familiar. She turned around one corner, then another, looking at her surroundings carefully, but nothing seemed familiar to her.
Ach, I’ll be so late tae the feast!
Embarrassment flooded through her at the mere thought. She could imagine it easily, walking into the feast only to find everyone else there already—all the guests staring at her as she entered, wondering who this strange woman was. It was enough to make her quicken her steps and rush through the castle, trying to find her way.
As she rounded a corner, she fell right into a young woman—a maid by the looks of it, who was as startled to see her as Freya was.
“Fergive me!” Freya all but shrieked, her panic getting the better of her. “I’m terribly sorry, but I am in a hurry. Can ye show me the way tae the great hall? That is where the feast will be, right?”
The young woman smiled, nodding. “Of course,” she said. “Follow me.”
With a sigh of relief, Freya followed the maid around the keep, trying to keep track of where she was taking her, just so she could remember her way if she ever needed to find it again. Before long, though, the maid stopped and opened a door that certainly didn’t look like it belonged to the great hall.
Perhaps she needs to do something afore she shows me the great hall?
Before Freya could question it, the maid grabbed her by the arm and shoved her inside the dark room, the door closing behind her with a loud thud. Freya had been so surprised by the sudden movement that she had had no time to react; no time to defend herself or try to resist the woman’s push.
Panic rose up inside her like bile when she heard the click of the lock. Immediately, she searched for the door handle in the dark, pulling furiously at it, but all she managed to do was make the door rattle in its frame.
No matter how hard she pulled, it would not budge.
Why? Why would she dae such a thing?
Banging her fists against the door, Freya desperately called for help until her throat was hoarse and ached as though she had swallowed glass. But no matter how much she tried, no one ever heard her pleas.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
