Page 5

They went to find the children and played with them until it was their bedtime. Despite Gregor and Lileas protesting their tiredness, their yawns and the sleepy look in their eyes betrayed them. Moira helped Kirsten carry them up to bed, and Kirsten kissed them goodnight. She let Moira say goodnight to them by herself.

Moira moved between the two small beds; her heart swelled with love. Tears glistened in her eyes again. She had hoped to remain and watch these children grow up, but alas, it was not meant to be. While she knew that Kirsten was right in saying that she wasn’t going very far, she might as well have been moving a world away.

There were so many little things she would miss in the day-to-day life at the castle, and every time she came back, Gregor and Lileas would have grown even more. Still, she tried not to let herself sink into sorrow just yet. There would be plenty of time for that later. For now, she wanted to bask in the love she had for her niece and nephew.

She caressed their cheeks and tried to keep her voice from trembling.

“Gregor, Lileas, I hae tae tell ye something. I’m gaeing away for a wee while. Well, for a long time, actually. I hae a marriage arranged for me. Yer mam will explain more tae ye when we wake up, but I want ye tae know that I love ye, and that I will always be proud of ye. If ye ever want tae see me, I wilnae be far away, and ye can be sure that I’ll be back tae see ye. It’s gaeing tae be difficult at first because I hae been sae used tae seeing ye every day. In a way, I’m gaeing tae miss ye more than I’ll miss Marcas or Kirsten.”

She paused for a moment to breathe, ready to tell the children about how much more she wished she could teach them and how much there was for them to learn. She didn’t want to leave anything unsaid, and yet it seemed inevitable because how could she ever sum up the emotions that existed within her heart?

But just as she was about to speak again, she heard Gregor snore softly, and Lileas turned around, sucking her thumb as she slept. Moira smiled, wondering if they had heard anything she said, but decided it didn’t really matter.

They knew that she loved them, and she was sure that Kirsten and Marcas would explain why things had to be this way. She leaned over them and placed a soft kiss on their foreheads. Neither child stirred; they were firmly locked in the land of dreams, where everything was calm and nothing bad ever happened.

Moira slipped out of the room and closed the door quietly behind her, quelling the sadness that lingered inside. She returned to her room and began to pack her things, as she would be leaving in the morning, ready to begin her new life immediately.

Kirsten came in a short while later. Her face was pale, and her eyes were puffy. It was clear that she had been crying. She carried in with her the dress that she had worn on her wedding day.

“I know ye dinnae want tae think about it, but I wanted tae offer ye this dress,” she said.

Moira knew the dress well, for it was the one her own mother had worn. She took the dress from Kirsten and wondered how her mother had felt on her wedding day. Was she as nervous as Moira was? Holding the dress in her arms made her feel connected not only with her own mother, but with Kirsten as well, and indeed with all the other Highland women who were given away as brides to form alliances and end wars. It wasn’t as bad as she had initially thought.

At least it meant her life mattered. At least she could do something to protect her clan, just as her father had. It was easy for Marcas to emulate their father on the battlefield, but such opportunities were rarer for Moira, and if this meant that Gregor and Lileas would never have to watch their father be slain in war, then it was worth it.

“I’m gaeing tae miss ye, Moira,” Kirsten said. Whatever wall she had erected to stem the flow of sadness crumbled, and she gave in to her sorrow again. The two women came together and reminisced about all they had been through.

Kirsten tried to reassure Moira about the future, but even though Moira hoped for the best, she expected the worst. All her life, she had heard bad things about the Calbraiths. They had hated her family for generations, and they had been the invading force that caused her father’s death. She wasn’t sure that she could ever love one of them, but she would have to do her duty for her family—and her clan.

3

On the following morning, Moira did not rise with anything like her usual exuberance. Instead of leaping out of bed with a smile on her face, she lurched and staggered, sighing as she gazed out of the window, knowing it was going to be the last time for a long time that she had this view.

She spent some time looking around her room, thinking of all the nights spent here, all the memories that were imbued into the walls. Leaving this room was akin to leaving a part of herself behind, and it was a heart-wrenching thing to tear herself away from her home.

As she moved through the hallways, the servants and maids wished her well. She couldn’t help but notice the trepidation in their voices, as though they feared the worst about the Calbraiths. Marcas waited for her outside.

A wagon was waiting to take her to her destiny. The driver looked resolute and impassive, and at that moment, Moira could almost have believed that their father had come alive again.

“Are ye ready?” he asked.

“Ye look like him...ye really dae,” Moira said. Her words were sharp as she still held some frustration in her heart for him at how this had all transpired.

Marcas tossed her belongings into the back of the wagon and then took the reins, while Moira sat beside him. She looked behind her and waved at the home she was leaving behind, while Marcas’s gaze was firmly locked on the road ahead.

Moira said goodbye to everything in her mind—to the people who lived there, to the sights and sounds, to the animals grazing in the field, to the stables and the flowers…she sighed as it receded from view, as though a chapter of her life was closing and a new one was beginning.

She swung her body around to face ahead. The wagon was being drawn by two black mares. The road was bumpy, and the wheels clacked as they spun around. The horses moved at a good clip.

“If I didnae know any better, I’d think ye were trying tae get rid of me,” Moira muttered.

Marcas exhaled deeply and glanced at her.

“Ye know that’s nae true.”

“Dae I?” she asked, and tension hung in the air. “Marcas, the least ye could hae done was tell me this was a possibility.”

“I thought ye knew. I thought ye always knew that this was gaeing tae happen one day, or that it might happen.”