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It was only a matter of moments until the feast was about to begin. The celebrations had actually started earlier in the day as everyone was eager to give into frivolity. Amelie had heard loud shouts and raucous laughter booming outside, and this had inspired her to remain indoors. People from many different clans were acting as though they were one, unified by this jovial spirit that permeated the entire clan, aside from Amelie. She wondered why she was always so different from other people, not possessing the quality that allowed them to recognize similar spirits in other people and thus endear them to each other. They seemed to be able to make firm friends in a matter of moments, lubricated by ale or games. They gave themselves freely to these fun endeavors, unshackled in the way that Amelie was. She listened with envy, wondering what it must be like to throw caution to the wind like that. Even if she was tempted, she could never bring herself to do it. It wouldn’t be the same. If she tried to play a game with someone else she would undoubtedly get the rules wrong and ruin things for everyone. People would look at her with scorn and ridicule her for not knowing the rules, and then they would prefer to play without her anyway.

If she tried to speak with people they would become impatient as they waited for the mangled words to wrestle their way out of her lips, and by the time she did speak they would realize that whatever she said had not been worth the wait. After all, it wasn’t as though she would be able to say anything interesting. Pascal and Fleur were the ones who led adventurous lives. The only stories Amelie had to share were things that happened in the convent, and she was under no illusions that people wanted to hear about that.

But she prepared herself for the feast anyway. She pulled her smock over her head and then put on the dress that Bridget had bought for her. It was tighter than her smock, pinching her waist and her chest. She had to pull it and rearrange it so that it fit her properly, although she couldn’t seem to pull it high enough to cover her chest without bringing it high up her legs. There must have been something wrong with the measurements, she thought, for it would have been unladylike to leave the hollow of her throat exposed like some harlot. She rummaged through her things and pulled out a shawl, throwing it around her shoulders. It covered her upper chest and seemed more appropriate.

The fabric was soft and felt snug on her skin. She ran her hands up and down her hips, enjoying the softness against her palms. It was the most expensive thing she had ever worn, and she dreaded to think what Sister Cora would have said about the vanity on display, but since it was only for one night, Amelie did not think she needed to feel too guilty. It would have been worse, she thought, to refuse to wear the gift at all. That would have wounded Bridget, and she did not wish to do that.

She was disturbed by a knock at the door. Before Amelie could respond, the door was flung open and Fleur came waltzing in as if the room was her own. As soon as she saw Amelie she stopped in her tracks and clasped her hands together. There was a gleeful look on her face as she walked around Amelie.

“Oh, Amelie, ye look beautiful,” Fleur said in an awed tone. Amelie’s cheeks blushed a deep red. She assumed that Fleur was just being nice, but did not dispute the compliment. “Bridget did well at choosing this dress for ye. It makes ye stand out in a good way. There will be nae hiding for ye taenight,” Fleur spoke as though this was a good thing. She pulled Amelie to a chair and then fetched a hairbrush. Fleur stood beside Amelie and started to run the brush through her hair.

“I know that ye are nervous about taenight. I want ye tae know that naething bad is gaeing tae happen. For the first time in a long time, we dinnae hae tae worry about anything in the Highlands. We are nae wee children any longer, and we dinnae need tae hide. This is a night where ye get tae show people who ye truly are. I know ye hae been hiding yerself from the world in that convent, but it can hardly last forever. Ye were always meant for greater things than that.”

“What could be greater than serving God?” Amelie asked, the words rolling unevenly from her tongue.

Fleur chuckled and squeezed Amelie’s shoulder. “God hae plenty of servants, the last time I checked. Now, I dinnae mean tae speak ill of the religious kind, and I know that it is important tae honor the Lord, but there are other ways tae honor him. Ye are such a wonderful spirit, Amelie, and I know that if ye just gave yerself a chance then ye could fall in love with a good man and hae a family. It would dae ye good tae live out here with the rest of us. I dae miss ye a lot. The convent is nae in a convenient place, and I dinnae like tae bring the children with me because I’m afraid they will disturb the peace.”

Fleur dragged the brush through Amelie’s hair. It caught on a knot and Amelie winced. She clamped her lips together, swallowing the pain. She glanced up at Fleur, admiring the beauty of her glamorous sister. She had even been beautiful back in France, when their bellies had been hollow, their eyes shadowed by tiredness, and their clothes ragged and smudged with dirt. Fleur had grown into a gorgeous woman who dazzled everyone with her charm and grace. Whenever anyone told Amelie that she reminded them of her sister, Amelie assumed that they were just saying it to be kind. When Amelie looked at her sister she saw the peak of beauty and knew that she was nowhere near it.

Fleur muttered in frustration.

“This hair is quite unmanageable.”

Amelie giggled. “I like it.”

Fleur frowned and shook her head. “I cannae braid it the way I used tae,” she threw her hands up in the air, surrendering to the inevitability of the short hair. “I wish ye hae come tae me before ye let the nuns at it. I’m sure they hae many talents, but this is nae one of them.” As if to demonstrate this, Fleur flicked her head around and her braided ponytail whipped through the air. The lattice of hair was intricate and it glistened in the soft candlelight. Fleur caught it on the back of her hand and showed it to Amelie.

“Dinnae ye miss having hair like this?”

Amelie laughed again and shook her head. At least this way she could be different than Fleur, not inferior, because her ponytail was never as lustrous or thick as Fleur’s, but just different. Of course, she didn’t share this with her sister. Fleur shrugged, knowing that she couldn’t very well make the hair grow back any quicker than it was going to, and just squeezed Amelie’s shoulders. She leaned down and placed her cheek next to Amelie’s.

“I am glad ye are with us though, celebrating taegether. It feels right for us all tae be here as a family. I know ye like it in the nunnery, but I hope ye will reconsider staying with us. Ye dinnae need tae hide away any longer. There is naebody here looking tae hurt ye, and even if there was we would nae let anything happen tae ye. It’s only fitting that ye should be with yer family,” Fleur said. Amelie looked away, and gnawed her lower lip. She did not offer a response, for she knew she was not going to say anything that her sister wished to hear. Instead, she walked to the bed and picked up her slate and chalk.

“Are ye sure ye are gaeing tae need that taenight? Perhaps ye could try without it,” Fleur suggested. Amelie gripped the slate tighter. Nothing would wrest it from her hands. There was a loop of rope that had been fastened to either side, meaning that she could sling it over her arm to carry it more easily. There was also a holder for the chalk. Amelie wished she could make Fleur understand that she wasn’t simply hiding in the nunnery; she was happy there. She had found her calling, and just because it didn’t involve marriage, family, or a grand adventure did not make it any less desirable than what Fleur thought should be her destiny.

* * *

The feast was well underway, and there were many people who already looked as though they were sloshed. Tables were laden with food, and the place was filled with a crowd of people that spilled into every corner of the keep, and out into the grounds. The noise was deafening and Amelie had no idea how anyone was managing to keep their thoughts straight. Her eyes darted furtively in every direction as there were always barrel-chested men or buxom women looking to get in her way. She clutched her slate to her side and gripped Fleur’s hand tightly as she walked through the large chamber.

This was the place from which Angus had ruled the clan with an iron fist. It had been barren and cold, but now it was lively. The walls were adorned with colorful banners and paintings, while a fire burned in the hearth at the far end of the room. Nearby, a string band played jolly music, which added to the mood. Most people were sitting around the table feasting and drinking ale, but there were some who were dancing already. They clapped and cheered as they spun around the middle of the room, nimbly leaping to and fro as they danced in time with the music.

Fleur pulled Amelie through the crowd. It parted for her in a way that it never would have for Amelie. Amelie would have been standing there, stammering and trying to get people’s attention. They noticed Fleur though and moved to let her through. Amelie had to rush to make sure that she was not caught by the people who tried to fill the space in Fleur’s wake. Amelie breathed with relief when she was led to the head table. Bridget and Lachlan were already there.

“Where’s Pascal?” Fleur asked as she took her seat next to Lachlan.

“He’s somewhere. People are eager tae wish him a happy birthday, and nae doubt win the favor of the Laird,” Lachlan said with a twinkle in his eye. They all laughed. Amelie smiled and went to fill her plate with food. Before she could do so, however, Fleur took it from her and began piling food on, including some cheese that Amelie did not like the look of at all.

“This is yer favorite. I remember ye used tae eat it all the time,” Fleur said, referring to the cheese. Amelie stared at it and wore a thin smile. She might have eaten it once upon a time, but that was a long time ago. Her tastes had changed and now even the smell of that rich cheese made her stomach turn. She nudged it to the side of her plate and frowned, annoyed that Fleur had taken it upon herself to gather food when Amelie knew exactly what she wanted. At the far end of the table, there was a rich plum sauce that looked delicious. Amelie’s mouth watered just thinking about it, but it was too far to reach. She went to ask Bridget to pass it to her, but then a conversation broke out and Amelie couldn’t seem to find a gap in which to interrupt.

She sat there, staring at the plum sauce. It almost mocked her.

She nibbled on her meat and bread, glancing around at the crowd to see if she could find Pascal. It was their birthday after all, and it seemed a shame if he was going to be elsewhere for the entire night. Noise flowed in from outside as well. The shutters had all been opened, otherwise, this chamber would have resembled a furnace and everyone would have burned. Even now people’s foreheads glistened with sweat, especially those who were dancing. Amelie looked towards Fleur and Bridget with envy. They looked as though they belonged in a place like this. They were so elegant and poised, and did not seem distressed at all. Neither of them was startled by loud noises like Amelie was, nor did they seem frightened whenever a boisterous crowd came their way. Amelie was just grateful that nobody seemed to remember that it was her birthday as well.

As she looked around the room, she found it hard to believe that none of the people here bore her or her family any ill will. They had been hated since they were born, first by their father, then by the people of Paris, and then by Highlanders. Unlike her siblings and their partners, she did not have the means by which to defend herself. If anyone attacked her she was vulnerable, and suddenly she started to see danger where there was none. Her mind twitched with paranoia and she gripped the table tightly, afraid that someone was going to try and wrench her away and disappear into the night before anyone realized that she was gone.

But then something wonderful happened. Someone called to Bridget, who rose and left an opening on the table. Amelie shifted around, now within reach of the plum sauce. She pulled another slice of meat onto her plate. The juices sizzled and dripped down, and then reached for the plum sauce. Her fingers were about to curl around the ladle when Pascal appeared from nowhere and grabbed her hand, pulling her up. She looked forlornly at the plum sauce, wondering if she was ever going to taste it.

“Is nae the night wonderful? This is all for us,” Pascal said with glee. His cheeks were ruddy and his eyes were glazed. She suspected that he had enjoyed some merry birthday drinks, and there were probably more to come. Amelie smiled and tried to return to her seat and the plum sauce, but Pascal had other ideas. To her dismay and horror, he dragged her to the middle of the room and clapped his hands loudly, calling for attention and silence. The jolly music faded and everyone hushed. Amelie looked around and sidled into Pascal, who put his arm around her. All eyes were upon them, and Amelie wilted under the weight of their attention.

“Thank ye, everyone, thank ye indeed! I hope that ye are haeing a fine time taenight. I certainly am,” Pascal said. There was an uproarious cheer as people responded positively. Amelie cringed, bowing her head and wishing that this was all some terrible nightmare from which she would wake up shortly. She glanced at Pascal, wishing that he would interpret her silence in the skilled way he always had done, but his attention was elsewhere. He swayed back and forth and lifted his arm into the air. His voice bellowed out and filled the entire chamber.

“Taeday is a grand day for me, and I am happy that sae many of ye want tae share it with me. There was a time when I never believed I would ever be as important as a Laird, and even when I first took up the position I thought that I would fail. But with Bridget beside me and a lot of help from the people of the clan, I think it’s safe tae sae that I hae been a success and that many years of happiness are gaeing tae follow.” There was another cheer following these words. “I am also happy that my family hae managed tae put down roots. I will nae bore ye with our story, as I’m sure ye all know it by now, but it took a long time tae return tae the place where we belong. Tae hae them all here with me now in this grand keep, it is more than I could ever hae hoped for, and it warms my heart. It makes this birthday truly special for me, and I hope that we can put all our troubles behind us and enjoy being happy. Sae here is a toast tae my family, and tae all of ye,” he raised his glass and then took a deep swig. Amelie smelled the thick ale. She winced.

“But taeday is nae just about me. For those of ye who dinnae know, I was born on the same day as this wee angel here, my sister Amelie, who hae devoted her time tae serving God. She possesses the purest heart the Highlands hae ever seen, and as it is her birthday as well I would like ye all tae raise yer glasses tae her.”

There was another loud cheer, this time for Amelie. Panic filled her mind as she had no idea how to react. It wasn’t as though any of them actually knew her, so why should they chant her name? Pascal squeezed her tight and shouted her name as well. Amelie forced a smile onto her face, but all she really wanted was to disappear back to her table and wait for the night to be over.

Pascal kissed her on the cheek and smiled widely. “Ye look beautiful taenight, Amelie. I hope ye are happy. That is all I really want for ye, tae be as happy as I am.”