The castle was noisy. The distant sound of preparations drifted through the walls, bringing the chaos of the morning with it. And yet, above all that, Edith could not help but feel the restlessness coiling within her, refusing to give way.
’Tis today.
It was the morning of the harvest festival. The final outing after which her fake betrothal to Aaron would be over.
Since the month began, Edith had waited and counted down religiously until this day. But now that it had arrived, she could barely summon the relief that she had expected to feel.
’Tis a good day.
The thought was intended as a reminder. More for the purpose of convincing herself.
She pushed herself upright, the blankets falling away as she swung her legs over the side of the bed with more enthusiasm than she felt.
The cold stone floor met her bare feet, and she winced slightly, welcoming the slight discomfort, for it grounded her in something other than her racing thoughts.
She crossed gingerly to the window, pulling open the shutters to let in the cold morning air. She inhaled, filling her lungs before staring out at the fields beyond.
It was just as she had expected. Servants moved through the kitchen door, pushing carts as they organized the provisions for the feast that would follow the day’s celebration.
Edith imagined the village preparing as well, the entire Highlands gathering for the largest celebration of the season.
It should have filled her with more anticipation than she’d felt before the village fair. Instead, she felt slightly unmoored.
She pressed her palm against the cold stone of the window frame and exhaled slowly, watching her breath cloud faintly in the morning air.
Everything she had ever wanted was now within her grasp: her final lesson to become a healer; enough money to get by; and, if Aaron kept his word, a small cottage in her mother’s village where she would work.
It was all she’d dreamed about since she’d been old enough to learn what dreams were. The quiet independence she had craved since she’d been old enough to understand what it meant to truly belong nowhere. But now, she was no longer certain what that dream meant.
She let out a sigh, her chest tightening as her gaze fixed on nothing in particular.
At some point during the pretense, the shape of her dreams had quietly begun to change. She could hardly imagine herself living alone in the Lowlands, at the heart of her mother’s village, where no one knew her name. She could not imagine a life without Scarlett or Violet. And strangely, in the dream that had woken her this morning, she had seen his face too.
Aaron… Why did I dream of him?
A knock sounded at her door, and she spun around, responding with more urgency out of a desperate need to avoid the question she had just asked herself.
Scarlett swept in as soon as she opened the door, almost squealing with contagious excitement.
“Edith!” Her voice was several octaves higher than normal, her arms full of fabric so fine it seemed to catch even the dim morning light. “It has arrived.”
Edith’s breath caught.
The gown the seamstress had measured her for weeks ago now lay draped over Scarlett’s arms in all of its glory.
“Och,” she breathed, stepping closer, her eyes widening in awe.
The fabric was a deep, rich green, threaded through with subtle gold embroidery along the bodice and sleeves—the clan colors rendered with a quiet elegance that managed to be striking without announcing themselves too loudly.
The skirts fell in layers that would move beautifully when she walked, and the neckline, modest but flattering, had clearly been cut with careful attention to her exact measurements.
“’Tis beautiful,” Edith said, her fingers trailing reverently along the embroidered sleeve.
“’Tis more than beautiful,” Scarlett corrected, laying the gown carefully across the bed. “Pray tell, what instructions did ye give the seamstress to have her make a dress this perfect?”
A small smile formed on Edith’s lips. She looked at Violet, who had entered the room behind Scarlett, then back to her best friend, hesitant to admit that she had not given the seamstress any instructions.
“It wasnae me,” she said quietly.
