The guards nodded in return then looked at each other before heading toward the local tavern. Annabeth watched them go, a fleeting sense of gratitude for their presence and care before she turned back to the warmth of home.
Once inside the cozy cottage, Annabeth’s heart lifted slightly as she noticed the familiar scent of Claire’s cooking. Her mother was already bustling about, pulling a kettle off the hearth and setting it on the stove. The quiet comfort of the home filled Annabeth’s senses, and for a brief moment, the weight of her departure from the castle felt lighter. She set the fox in the corner of the cottage, but then, Claire’s voice broke the silence.
“Now, tell me all about yer adventures, lass,” Claire said, her tone full of curiosity as she set about preparing tea.
Annabeth smiled, but the expression faltered almost immediately. Her mind drifted back to the castle, to the Laird, and a heavy sigh slipped from her lips. She felt as though she was sinking into a place she couldn’t escape, no matter how much she wanted to.
Claire noticed the change in her daughter’s demeanor and turned, concern knitting her brow. “Annabeth, what’s wrong, love?” she asked softly, her hands resting on Annabeth’s shoulders. Annabeth’s throat tightened, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words. The days of guarding her heart suddenly seemed too heavy, and before she could stop herself, the dam broke.
“I—I developed feelings for him, Maither,” Annabeth admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “The Laird… I thought I could leave without any of this happenin’, but I did. And now, it’s breakin’ me heart to leave him behind.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, and she buried her face in her hands, unable to stopthe tears that had finally begun to fall. Claire moved to her side, sitting beside her, and gently pulling Annabeth into her arms.
“Ye’ve been carryin’ that burden alone, havenae ye?” Claire murmured, her voice soothing as she stroked Annabeth’s hair. “Oh, me sweet lass, I wish I could take away yer pain.”
Annabeth sniffed, shaking her head.
“But ye cannae just leave it like this,” Claire continued, her tone firm but kind. “Stay a few days, give yer heart time to heal, and then go back if ye truly feel it’s what’s best. The castle is nae too far.”
Annabeth pulled back slightly, looking into her mother’s eyes. “I cannae, Maither,” she whispered. “He doesnae care for me the way I care for him. It’s better that I left now before things became even messier than they already are.”
Claire’s expression softened, but she didn’t argue, sensing the finality in Annabeth’s words. The silence hung heavily in the room as Annabeth allowed Claire simply to hold her, letting the weight of the moment settle between them.
Annabeth’s heart ached, the idea of leaving something she had never truly had, something she had never dared to believe in. But she had always known when it was time to move on, and this time, it seemed she had no choice. With a heavy heart, Annabeth sighed, her gaze fixed on the fire burning low in the hearth.
That night, Annabeth tossed and turned in her bed, the weight of her thoughts keeping her awake. The small room, once comforting and familiar, now felt stifling as her mind raced back to the castle. She thought of Marcus—his strong, commanding presence, the way his eyes had softened when they spoke, and the lingering warmth of his touch. She wondered if her mother was right, if perhaps she should return to the castle after a few days at home to clear her head.
But why would I go back? I have nay real reason to return.
She could check on Elena, of course; after all, they had become friends, and it would be kind to see how she was faring. Yet, even that felt like a thin excuse to return to the castle.
The thought of Marcus stirred something inside her, but she couldn’t quite place what it was. It wasn’t just the physical pull she felt whenever he was near—there was something deeper, something that made her heart flutter and her breath catch. She had tried to convince herself that it was just the heat of the moment, a fleeting attraction that would fade with time. But she knew better than that; it wasn’t just fleeting, it was something she had never expected to feel for someone like him. The thoughts tormented her until she drifted to sleep.
The morning sun had barely risen when Annabeth started her day, slipping into her familiar routine. She was eager to immerse herself in the steady rhythm of work, a way to keep her mind from wandering back to the castle and the confusion she still felt over Marcus. She walked through the village, making her way to the homes of her patients, checking on them one by one. Herthoughts were focused on the care she needed to provide when she unexpectedly ran into Kyle, her landlord, just outside the town’s smithy.
Kyle bowed deeply when he saw her, his expression full of respect and a hint of something else she couldn’t quite place.
“Ah, Mistress Annabeth, what a pleasure it is to see ye well,” he said, his tone oozing reverence.
She smiled politely, surprised by his formal demeanor. “Good mornin’, sir,” she said, adjusting the basket in her hand. “How fair thee? I hope ye are nae goin’ to tell me I owe ye for rents.”
To Annabeth’s surprise, Kyle’s eyes gleamed with something like pride as he straightened up.
“Oh, how ye tease and joke. Ye ken very well the turn of events there’s been, Mistress Annabeth,” he began, his voice almost giddy. “The Laird, bless him, he sent a guard with a purse to settle yer debts, and on top of that, he bought yer cottage from me. But ye ken that lass.”
Annabeth stopped in her tracks, her breath catching as she tried to comprehend what he was saying. “What do ye mean?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Kyle straightened up even more, as though the news was an honor to share. “The Laird insisted on buyin’ yer cottage along with the ones around it and some land too,” he explained, hiswords tumbling out with excitement. “Ye ken, technically, it’s all his land anyway.”
Annabeth felt a swirl of emotions as her thoughts whirled. She couldn’t quite grasp what he was saying—Marcus had done this for her?
Without another word, Annabeth turned on her heel and hurried home, her heart pounding in her chest.
She burst through the door, nearly out of breath. “Maither!” she called out, her voice tight with disbelief.
Claire looked up from the hearth, startled by the urgency in Annabeth’s voice.
“Annabeth, lass, what is it?” Claire asked, worry in her eyes as she wiped her hands on her apron.
Annabeth’s voice faltered as she struggled to find the right words. “Why didnae ye tell me?” she demanded. “The Laird, he—he bought the cottage and the land around it. He settled our debts! Why didnae ye tell me?”
