The woman held up several, and Noah pointed to one, the color of a summer sky. “That one. And the green one there.” He indicated a deeper shade, like pine needles.
“Good choices, me Laird. Will there be anythin’ else?”
Noah’s eyes drifted across the display, and he found himself pausing on a ribbon of pale green—not the deep forest shade he’d just selected, but something lighter and more delicate.
The color of new leaves in spring. The exact shade of Ava’s eyes.
He had no logical reason to buy it. Ava hadn’t asked for anything. Hell, she’d probably scold him for wasting money on frivolous things when the orphanage needed supplies.
But his hand was already reaching for it.
“This one too,” he heard himself say.
The woman’s weathered face creased into a knowing smile as she carefully wrapped all three ribbons. “Someone’s lucky, gettin’ such fine gifts.”
“It’s only a ribbon, not a crown.” Noah paid her and tucked the small package into his coat.
It was nothing. A simple gesture. The kind of thing any employer might do for someone who’d gone out of their way to help.
Except he’d never bought his stable master ribbons.
Noah pushed that thought aside and headed toward Ava’s cottage. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, painting everything in shades of gold and amber. He could hear voices as he approached—Ava’s clear and melodic, Esther’s low and light, punctuated by giggles.
He paused at the door, listening.
“—and then the selkie said, ‘If ye want me to stay, ye must never hide me skin. I must ken where it is always.’” Ava’s voice was animated, bringing the old tale to life. “But the fisherman was afraid she’d leave him, so he hid it anyway. Do ye ken what happened next?”
A pause, then Esther’s excited voice: “She... she found it!”
“Aye, she did! Right clever lass, that selkie. She searched and searched, and finally found her skin hidden in the rafters. And what do ye think she did?”
“She l-left!” Esther sounded both triumphant and sad. “She went b-back to the sea.”
“She did. Because he’d lied to her, ye see. Even though he loved her, he didnae trust her enough to let her choose to stay.” Ava’s voice softened. “The moral of the story is that ye cannae keep someone by takin’ away their freedom. Love has to be freely given, or it’s nae love at all.”
Noah felt something twist in his chest.
Was that story meant for Esther? Or was Ava making a point about her own situation, being brought to the castle whether she liked it or not?
He pushed open the door before he could dwell on it further.
Ava stood at the hearth, stirring something in a pot that smelled of herbs and vegetables. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, her braid coming loose again in that way that seemed perpetual.
And beside her, standing on a small stool so she could reach the work table, was Esther.
His niece was chopping vegetables—carefully, with a knife much too large for her small hands, but with intense focus. And she waslaughing. Not just smiling, but genuinely laughing at something Ava had said, her whole face bright with joy.
“Uncle Noah!” Esther spotted him and waved enthusiastically, nearly dropping her knife in the process. “I’m... I’m helpin’ cook!”
“I can see that, lass.” Noah moved closer, watching Ava’s hand hover near Esther’s. “Ye’re doin’ a fine job.”
“She’s a natural,” Ava said, smiling at Esther with such genuine warmth it made Noah’s chest feel tight. “Few more years and she’ll be cookin’ circles around me.”
“That wouldnae be hard, from what I’ve tasted so far,” Noah said before he could stop himself.
Ava’s head whipped around, eyes narrowed. “Oi! I’ll have ye ken me cookin’ is perfectly adequate!”
“I didnae said adequate, did I?”
