Marcus fell silent, his expression shifting as the weight of her words seemed to press upon him. His usual commanding presence softened, and there was an unfamiliar vulnerability in his voice when he spoke again.
“I need ye to come with me, Annabeth,” he said, his tone quieter now. “To heal me faither.”
Annabeth blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in him. “Yer faither?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she tried to process what he was saying. “What is wrong with him?” Her voice softened, concern slipping through despite her own inner reservations.
Marcus sighed, looking away briefly before meeting her eyes again. “I daenae ken. He’s been unwell fer a while now, and nae one’s been able to help him,” he explained, his voice low, almost ashamed. “I’ve watched ye, Annabeth, seen the way ye work. Yer skills… they’re beyond what anyone else here has. I need someone like ye to help him. He’s me faither.”
Annabeth’s gaze flicked around her cottage, her heart torn between duty and the pull of something deeper. The weight of his words settled heavily in the room, and she found herself hesitating, unsure how to respond. Her mind raced, grappling with the decision.
“And in return, I’ll take care of yer debt to the landlord. I’ll pay it off, and I’ll give ye a few months’ rent in advance. Ye willanae have to worry about that anymore.”
Annabeth felt the sudden rush of emotions—gratitude, uncertainty, and something else she couldn’t quite name. She took a slow breath, trying to steady herself before responding.
“I need a moment,” she said, her voice quiet but firm as she stepped back toward the door to gather her thoughts. “Please.”
Marcus nodded, stepping back toward his horse with a quiet understanding.
Annabeth entered and moved to Claire’s side as she sat by the fire.
“Maither, the Laird offered to pay our debts if I go with him to see to his faither, who is ill. I daenae want to leave ye.”
“Ye must go if the Laird calls on ye, lass. Ye’re one of his subjects, an’ it’s yer duty.” She paused, looking at Annabeth with understanding. “I ken ye don’t want to leave me alone, but ye’ll nae be gone forever. I have Murray and Bruce next door, and they'll look after me.”
Annabeth’s gaze drifted out the window, her mind clouded with doubt.
“But... I…” she started then faltered, her thoughts tangled in a knot she couldn’t untie. Claire squeezed her hand gently, a quiet encouragement in her eyes.
“Ye’ll be fine, Annabeth,” she said, her voice warm. “The Laird may be a powerful man, but ye are strong, and ye have yer skills to offer.”
Annabeth looked down at their hands, her heart a strange mix of unease and longing. She felt something stir inside her—something she didn't fully understand.
Aye, but he’s nae like us; he’s a man of power while I’m just a village girl. What could he want with me?
Her breath caught in her chest as the thought crossed her mind, but Claire’s words brought her back to the present.
Claire leaned forward, her eyes soft yet knowing. “Annabeth, lass, ye’ve a gift. This may be yer chance to do something more than ye ever dreamed. Take the offer. Ye can always come back to me.” Her voice was full of affection and quiet wisdom.
Annabeth met Claire’s gaze, her heart torn between fear and hope. She nodded slowly, standing up with a heavy heart but a steady resolve.
“I... I will go,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
As Annabeth stepped outside, the weight of her decision settled over her like a cloak. Marcus stood by his horse, waiting, the flicker of impatience in his eyes. He looked at her, his posture proud yet unspoken, as if he already knew her answer.
“I accept yer offer, if I have yer word that ye will pay the debts, and if anything shall happen to me on this journey, ye shall take care of me maither. Those are me terms,” she said.
“Ye have me word, lass,” he said, his voice low but firm. “We leave now.”
Annabeth’s heart raced, but she held herself steady.
“I’ll just go inside and pack me healing herbs,” she said, her voice quiet but resolute. The moment had arrived, and with a deep breath, she turned toward the cottage, her mind spinning with thoughts of what lay ahead.
Annabeth stepped back inside the cottage, the door creaking shut behind her. Claire was already packing a small wooden box with herbal remedies and tonics, her hands moving swiftly but with practiced care. Annabeth walked over to the corner where her own belongings lay, pulling out a large cloth bag.
She placed a few clothing items inside, each fold deliberate, each movement laced with the heaviness of the moment.
Leaving home, ’tis too much to bear. I can feel me hands shaking and me heart breaking. I will miss home.
She paused, looking at Claire, then closed the bag and walked over to her.
