Mhairi set down the cloth, suddenly curious. "What's he like? As a laird, I mean."
"Complicated." Freya grinned. "Smart as a whip, tough as nails when he needs tae be, but fair. He actually listens when people talk tae him, which is rarer than ye'd think. And he cares about his clan, really cares. It's nae just duty fer him."
"I’ve noticed that," Mhairi said quietly, thinking of how his men had responded to him on the road. "His warriors trust him completely."
"They dae. Because he's earned it." Freya stood and moved to the wardrobe, pulling out a simple dress. "Here. This'll fit better than that shift. Let me help ye."
"So the laird told ye why he went tae the auction, then?" Freya asked as she helped her into the dress, lacing it up the back and adjusting the fit,
"Aye. He said girls from yer clan lands had been goin' missing." Mhairi's voice softened. "Three of them?"
"Three that we ken of." Freya's hands paused briefly. "It's been eatin' at him fer months. Every search party that came back empty-handed, every dead end—ye could see it weighin' on him."
"He blames himself."
"Of course he daes. He's the laird. He thinks it's his duty tae protect everyone." Freya resumed her work, pulling the clean dress over Mhairi's head. "The Council tried tae talk him out of goin' tae that auction himself. Too dangerous, they said. But once he gets somethin' in his head..."
"He's stubborn," Mhairi finished.
"Stubborn as a mule. But it comes from carin', ye ken? Those lasses were his people. His responsibility." Freya's voice held a note of pride. "He wasnae about tae sit in his castle while they were out there somewhere, afraid and alone."
Mhairi felt something tighten in her chest. She'd thought Alpin had saved her out of simple decency. But it was more than that. It was personal.
"He didnae find them, though," she said quietly.
"Nay. They'd already been sold and moved on." Freya met her eyes. "But he found ye. And he brought ye home safe. That counts fer somethin'."
It did. It counted for more than Mhairi could put into words.
"I wish he could've saved us all," Mhairi whispered.
"So daes he." Freya moved back to the pile of blankets, sorting through them.
Mhairi found herself wondering who looked after the laird when he was so busy looking after everyone else.
"Here." Freya held up a thick shawl. "It gets cold at night, even in summer. Ye'll want this."
"Thank ye." Mhairi accepted it, wrapping it around her shoulders. The wool was soft and warm, smelling faintly of lavender.
"Ye need food and rest, in that order." She moved toward the door. "I'll have somethin' sent up from the kitchens. Anythin' ye particularly like? Or particularly hate?"
"I'm nae picky."
"Good answer. Though between ye and me, avoid the mutton pie on Thursdays. Cook's been makin' it the same way for thirty years and she's gotten worse at it every single time."
Despite everything, Mhairi laughed. "Noted."
Freya paused at the door, her expression turning serious again. "Me lady? I dinnae ken what happened tae ye before the laird found ye, and I willnae pry. But I want ye tae ken, ye're safe here. Everyone in this castle will make sure of it. Because if Alpin'staken ye under his protection, that means somethin'. It means ye're one of us now."
Mhairi's vision blurred. "Thank ye."
"Get some rest." Freya's smile was gentle now. "And if ye need anythin’, ye just ask fer me. I'm usually in the kitchens makin' trouble or in the servants' quarters avoidin' work."
Then she was gone, leaving Mhairi alone once more.
She moved to the window and looked out over the courtyard below. The sun was setting now, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Torches were being lit along the walls. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear voices—warriors calling out greetings, servants laughing as they finished their day's work.
Life. Normal, ordinary life.
