CHAPTER ONE
“Hold still, ye stubborn beast, or I’ll draw ye with three heads and make ye the monster ye are.”
Scarlett narrowed her eyes at the pigeon wobbling along the window ledge. The bird cooed, unbothered, before turning its back on her completely. With a quick swipe of her charcoal, Scarlett gave it exactly what it deserved, an extra wing sprouting from its side.
“Better,” she muttered, holding the sketch at arm’s length. “If ye willnae pose properly, then I’ll improve ye against yer will.”
The pigeon flapped off, scattering a feather against the glass. Scarlett blew out a sigh, tapped the page with her charcoal stick, and then rubbed her face in confusion, leaving a smudge on her cheek.
“Useless creature. Even ye willnae sit still for me.”
A knock interrupted her scolding.
“Me Lady?” A head poked around the doorframe. It was Maisie, one of the younger maids, her cheeks flushed from hurrying up the tower stairs. “Yer brother says ye’re wanted in the solar.”
Scarlett dropped her sketchbook into her lap, and her eyes widened.
“Now?”
Maisie nodded vigorously. “Aye. He said at once. And he had that serious look."
Scarlett groaned, tipping her head back against her chair. “Of course, he did. He has spent half his life with that look.” She then rubbed at her temple, only succeeding in smearing more charcoal across her skin.
Maisie tried to smother a laugh but failed, snorting into her hand.
Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “Daenae think I didnae hear that.”
“I daenae ken what ye speak of,” Maisie said quickly though her shoulders still shook. She edged toward the door. “I’ll tell Laird Gallaway that ye’re coming.”
“Wait!” Scarlett hopped up, nearly tripping over her skirts as she snatched her sketchbook. “Before ye scurry off, have a look at this.”
Maisie froze. “Och, I’m nae sure-—”
Scarlett shoved the book into her hands anyway. “Go on, be honest. Do ye see a pigeon or… something that belongs in a tale to frighten children?”
Maisie stared at the lopsided creature—two bodies sharing three wings and a beak that looked more like a crooked dagger. Her lips pressed tightly, not sure of what to say.
“Well?” Scarlett demanded with her arms crossed.
“It’s…” Maisie drew the word out, clearly trying to find the right words. “It’s fierce, that’s what it is. I’d nae want to meet the likes of it in the courtyard.”
Scarlett snorted, grabbing the sketch back. “I ought to stick to portraits. At least people can be persuaded to hold still.”
“Most people,” Maisie muttered.
Scarlett lifted her chin. “I’ll have ye know I once convinced a goat to pose. Sat as prim as ye please.”
Maisie burst out laughing. “Of course, ye did, Me Lady.”
“Aye!” Scarlett closed the sketchbook with a flourish. “Off with ye, then. Tell Aaron, his beloved sister comes to hear whatever doom he’s brewed up now.”
Maisie dipped a curtsy, still chuckling as she slipped back through the door.
Scarlett tucked her sketchbook under her arm and left her art room, still smiling to herself about Maisie’s comment. Her brother’s summons wasn’t unusual; Aaron was forever buried in maps and parchments, forever planning for the next border skirmish or trade deal. She wondered what it might be this time: grain stores, soldiers, or another tedious dispute with a neighboring clan.
Whatever it was, he certainly didn’t need her opinion. She told herself that often enough that she'd stopped noticing when it stopped being funny.
The long corridor carried her toward the solar; banners of the Gallaway crest hung stiff along the stone walls. She walked at an easy pace, not rushing. By the time she reached the door, she could already hear Aaron’s voice, commanding as usual, speaking over someone else’s lower tones.
