And I daenae want to see him.
Elena’s expression faltered for a moment then she straightened, determined. “I’ll join ye then,” she replied without hesitation. “It’s nonsense to let ye eat alone. I want to spend the last nights with me friend before ye go.”
Annabeth felt her heart tug at the words, but she tried to offer a smile. “Ye should go down to the hall with the others, Elena. They’ll miss ye if ye stay up here.”
Elena shook her head, her eyes firm. “Nay, Annabeth. I want to stay with ye. I’ll brin’ two meals up for us.”
Annabeth watched her friend leave, her heart aching at the thought of leaving Elena behind. She walked over to the window, looking out onto the grounds to see if she could catch a glimpse of Marcus, but he never appeared.
Soon enough, Elena returned with a servant carrying two plates of stew, bread, and cheese, and the two women settled at the table together, a candle flickering between them.
Elena began talking about the baby she was carrying, and soon they were discussing possible names. “I’m thinkin’ of Callum for a boy,” Elena said, her cheeks flushing as she imagined the future. “For a girl, maybe Fiona, after me mum.”
Annabeth smiled softly, her thoughts drifting as she thought of names for her own future children even though she knew it would never come to that. “Callum is a fine name,” she agreed. “And Fiona suits well. A strong name for a strong lass.” Elena smiled brightly at the compliment then suddenly became pensive.
“Ye’ll be far away, Annabeth,” Elena said quietly, her voice tinged with sorrow. “I’ll miss ye more than ye ken.”
Annabeth felt her throat tighten, the words she wanted to say trapped behind her lips. Instead, she reached across the table and squeezed Elena’s hand, offering a reassuring smile. “I’ll miss ye too, Elena. But ye’ll be a fine maither, and ye’ll have yer family right here with ye.”
The evening wore on, and the two of them spent it in quiet conversation, laughter, and the warmth of shared memories. After they finished their meal, Elena lingered for a while, both of them finding comfort in each other’s presence. But eventually, the evening drew to a close, and Elena made her way to the door, though not before giving Annabeth one last, lingering hug.
“Goodnight, Annabeth,” Elena whispered as she stepped out of the room. “I’ll be thinkin’ of ye.”
Annabeth stood there, her heart aching with the weight of all that was about to change. She closed the door softly behind her, leaning against it for a moment before walking back to the bed.
Annabeth crawled under the covers, her mind racing with thoughts of what she was leaving behind. She had never imagined that it would be so hard to walk away from the people who had become so dear to her. She tossed and turned, the sheets tangled around her legs as every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind outside, made her think of Marcus.
Her heart beat a little faster each time she thought she heard footsteps in the hall.
Was it him? Did he come to say goodbye?
She tossed aside the blanket and rushed to the door, her hand on the handle, ready to open it, but when she stepped into the hall, there was no one there.
The hallway was quiet, dimly lit by the torchlight. Annabeth felt a pang of disappointment, her hopes deflating as she stood there, staring down the empty corridor. She shook her head, chastising herself for thinking he would come after her. With a sigh, she returned to her room and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Sleep eluded her for hours. Every creak of the old stone walls, every flutter of wind outside, made her wonder if Marcus would appear at her door. But no matter how long she lay there, hoping for him to come, the night stretched on, silent and still. And eventually, exhaustion claimed her, but even in her sleep, her heart ached with the thought that she would never know if he truly cared enough to come after her.
I say me goodbyes to ye, Marcus, though ye daenae care enough to call upon me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Marcus walked beside Eli down the long stone corridor, the sound of their boots echoing in the silence. The weight of the council meeting ahead pressed on his shoulders. “It’s time we get to the bottom of this.” Marcus, glanced sideways at him.
Eli gave a sharp nod, his jaw tight with the seriousness of the situation.
“Aye, Laird,” Eli replied, his voice low. “The McArthur’s nae one to stir trouble without reason, Marcus. If he’s comin’ to speak, it’s to help the situation.”
Marcus sighed heavily, his mind already spinning with the possibilities. McArthur’s raids had nearly set the clans to war, but now, the man sought to help them.
They reached the door of the council chamber, and Marcus’ hand lingered on the cold wood before pushing it open. Inside, the room was already filled with the weight of the clan’s mosttrusted and powerful, seated at the long wooden table. His cousin, Ian, sat near the end, eyes narrowed, while his mother, Lady Elizabeth, sat with her usual poise at the other end of the table. A few murmurs filled the air as Marcus and Eli entered, and all eyes turned to them.
Marcus wasted no time, stepping up to the table as the council quieted. “We’ve gathered here today to discuss the accusations of Laird McArthur,” he began, his voice steady but laced with frustration. “The raids ye’ve heard of were nae of our direct doin’ but rather the work of someone behind the scenes. They’ve been dealin’ with problems on their lands, but the blame has been mislaid.” His eyes met Lady Elizabeth’s, who nodded subtly in understanding.
“Ye mean to say someone’s been stirrin’ trouble within our own walls?” Ian’s voice cut through the tension, a hint of suspicion clouding his gaze.
Marcus. “Nay, that’s nae what I’m sayin’. There’s been deliberate attempts to weaken our position, and we’re nae about to let it pass without consequences.”
The council exchanged looks, whispers flitting across the table. “And ye’re certain that these deliberate actions are tied to McArthur’s raids?” one of the elders asked, his brow furrowed.
