The great hall was quieter now, save for the crackle of the hearth. Annabeth lingered near the table, cradling the restless fox in her arms as she waited for a response.
Marcus barely glanced at her, his tone curt. “Naythin’s alright, Annabeth. Someone’s tryin’ to sabotage the clans and drag us all into chaos.”
Annabeth frowned, her concern deepening. “If there’s somethin’ I can do to help, ye only need ask.”
Marcus stiffened, his jaw tightening as he turned to her. “There’s naythin’ ye can do, lass,” he snapped. “This is clan business, nae the work of a healer.”
His words stung, and Annabeth felt her patience fray. Her tone grew sharp, her usual softness replaced by indignation.
“Clan business or nae, I’ve been by yer side when ye were bleedin’ and broken, Marcus Reid. Daenae treat me like I’ve nay worth just because ye’ve troubles to handle.”
Marcus sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I’m nae treatin’ ye as lesser,” he muttered. “But this isnae somethin’ ye can fix with herbs and bandages.”
Annabeth’s anger flared at his dismissive tone. “Aye, well, since I’m nae needed here, maybe I should pack me things and leave. Yer faither’s nearly well, and it seems me presence is more a bother than a help.” She turned on her heel, the fox shifting in her arms as if sensing her irritation.
Marcus’ gaze followed her, but his lips remained pressed in a firm line. “Annabeth,” he called after her, his voice edged with frustration.
She paused, her back still to him.
“Ye ken I didnae mean to hurt ye,” he said, his tone softening slightly.
Annabeth turned her head just enough to glance over her shoulder, her eyes glinting with hurt. “Ye’ve a funny way of showin’ it, Marcus,” she replied before walking out.
Her footsteps echoed in the hall as she made her way through the corridors. The weight of the day settled heavily on her shoulders, and she tightened her grip on the fox. It chittered softly, nuzzling into her arm, a small comfort amid her swirling emotions. Annabeth muttered under her breath, her temper still simmering. “Clan business, is it? I’ll finish me work then leave ye to yer grand troubles.”
She entered her chambers and set the fox down, letting it scamper toward the corner it favored. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she exhaled sharply, running a hand over her face. The day had taken a toll, and Marcus’ words lingered, cutting deeper than she cared to admit. “Men,” she muttered bitterly. “Thick-headed, stubborn fools, the lot of them.”
Annabeth stared out the window, her thoughts a whirl of frustration and hurt. She had come to care for Marcus though she’d never admit it aloud. Now, she questioned whether staying any longer was worth the trouble. Yet, beneath her anger, a quiet voice whispered that Marcus needed her.
Whether he admits it or nae.
That evening, Annabeth and Elena sat together in the warmth of the apothecary, preparing the herbs and ingredients for the medicine to ease Leon’s symptoms. As they worked, the soft clink of mortar and pestle filled the air.
Elena, carefully grinding the dried flowers, glanced up at Annabeth with a hesitant expression. “Are ye really leavin’ soon, Annabeth?” she asked quietly.
Annabeth paused for a moment then nodded, her hands stilling. “Aye, Elena. That was always the deal. I came to help Laird McLennen’s faither, and once I’ve done what I can for him, I’ve a duty to return to me maither and the villagers. I cannae stay here forever.” Her voice softened, betraying a tinge of regret she hadn’t fully acknowledged before.
Elena frowned, looking down at the herbs in her hands. “But what about the Laird? Ye’ve been here a while now. Doesnae he mean anythin’ to ye? Ye two have a connection, aye?”
Annabeth’s heart skipped a beat at the question, and she felt the warmth of the kitchen air grow suddenly heavy. She looked at Elena, struggling to find the right words. “Aye?” she replied, her voice cracking and inside, a storm was brewing.
As Annabeth stirred the mixture, her mind wandered back to the moments she had spent with Marcus, his strength, his presence. She hadn’t planned for any of it, least of all falling in love. But in the quiet moments, when her heart wasn’t working overtime to protect her, she realized she had already fallen. Yet, she knew the pull of her duty as a healer, as someone who could not ignore those who needed her.
Elena watched her closely, sensing the turmoil beneath Annabeth’s calm exterior. “Ye love him, daenae ye?” Elena asked, her voice gentle but knowing.
Annabeth hesitated, unsure of how to answer. “I… I never planned on it. Me life was supposed to be simple, focused on healin’, nae…” she trailed off, unsure how to voice the overwhelming feeling in her chest.
Elena reached over, giving her a reassuring pat on the hand. “I ken, lass. I have also fallen in love. ’Tis hard to ken what to do sometimes.”
Annabeth smiled faintly though her heart still felt heavy. “I wish it were easier, Elena, but there’s a path I must follow, and right now, it leads me away from him.”
Annabeth finished with Elena, her hands still busy with the final touches of the medicine. “I’m off to me room, lass,” she said softly, giving Elena a warm hug. “Gotta tie up loose ends and pack.”
Elena nodded, her eyes full of concern, but Annabeth quickly turned and made her way down the corridor, her thoughts heavy.
As she walked slowly through the castle halls, she took in every detail—the stone walls, the grand tapestries, the light streaming through the tall windows. She’d spent so many days within these walls, but now, they seemed to hold a weight, as if they were bidding her farewell. There was a sadness in her chest, a wound she couldn’t quite understand. She wanted to leave, yet the desire to stay with Marcus tore at her.
“I will miss these gray walls,” she muttered.
