Annabeth’s throat tightened, her pulse quickening at the words. She fought to keep her emotions in check, but the sting of rejection was sharp, and it was becoming more difficult to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.
“I understand,” she whispered, the words coming out more fragile than she’d intended. “I will nae stay longer than necessary. I will see to the injured then return home as ye wish.”
Elizabeth watched her for a moment longer, her expression unreadable. Then, with a slight nod, she turned on her heel and walked toward the door. “See that ye do,” she said over her shoulder, her tone clipped and final.
Annabeth stood frozen for a long moment, the words echoing in her mind like a distant drumbeat. The room felt colder now, emptier, as if the very air around her had shifted. She knew what she had to do, knew what was expected of her, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
As Lady Elizabeth left, the silence that followed felt heavy, suffocating even. Annabeth took a slow breath, her heart aching as she looked around the room, at the preparations she had made, the space that was meant for healing. She had thought, in a distant part of her heart, that there might be a different futurefor her and Marcus, but now, she saw the cruel reality before her, and it seemed more impossible than ever.
She wiped a stray tear away quickly, shaking her head as if to clear the thoughts from her mind. She had no place here, not in this castle, not in Marcus’ world. The sooner she returned home, the better for everyone. She would fulfill her duties and leave—there was no other choice.
But as she turned back to the preparations, one thought lingered: if she could just have one more moment with him, one more chance to explain, to make him see. But that was a dream, a hope that would never come to pass. Annabeth swallowed hard and steadied herself, knowing that no matter what she felt, the path she was on had already been chosen.
Annabeth stood still for a long moment, her hands clenched tightly around the fabric of her apron, staring blankly at the table before her. Her chest felt tight, the weight of her own foolishness sinking deeper with every passing second.
What had I thought?
She had thought that somehow, despite everything, there could have been more—more between her and Marcus, something deeper, something lasting. But now it seemed so ridiculous, so utterly naive.
She shook her head, as though to clear the thoughts, but they wouldn’t leave.
Of course, I am nae good enough for him.
Lady Elizabeth had made it so clear, hadn’t she? No matter what feelings she might have had for Marcus, no matter how much she cared for him, it would never be enough to change the world he lived in.
“I’m just a healer from the village,” she mused quietly. “A woman with nay rank, nay power. Naythin’ that could ever be enough for a laird like Marcus.”
Annabeth squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push away the flood of emotions that threatened to consume her. The ache in her heart was sharp, and no amount of rational thought could dull it.
“I should nae have come back,” she whispered mournfully, “I should’ve stayed home where it was safe, where I didnae have to face the truth of how out of place I am here.”
Annabeth’s heart cracked a little more, and her hands, still clutching the apron, trembled ever so slightly. She had thought she might find something different here, something she could belong to, but it was all a fleeting dream. The reality was painful—so much so that it took her breath away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
As they rode toward the castle, Marcus couldn’t help but feel the exhaustion weighing on him. The battle with Struan MacCormack had taken more out of him than he’d cared to admit. His mind wandered back to Annabeth—how he'd left things with her. The pain in his side only seemed to deepen with each passing thought, and he wanted nothing more than to return to the castle and find peace, even if just for a moment.
When they finally arrived, Marcus was immediately ushered into the healing rooms. His body protested every step, but he pressed on, determined to get the care he needed. As the guards helped him to a nearby chair, his eyes caught a familiar face—Annabeth. She moved toward him with urgency, her brow furrowed in concern.
“Annabeth,” he murmured, relief flooding through him. “I’m glad to see ye.” His voice was rough from exhaustion, but the sight of her calmed the storm inside him, even if only for a moment.
Annabeth rushed to his side, her hands immediately beginning to assess his injuries. “It’s just a flesh wound,” she said quickly, her voice steady despite the concern in her eyes. “Naythin’ to worry about. Ye’re lucky it’s nae worse.” She began to clean the wound, her touch gentle and familiar.
Marcus couldn’t help but watch her, the way she worked with such focus and care. His heart raced in his chest, and for the first time since the fight, he felt truly at ease.
"What are ye doin’ back here?” he asked, his voice gruff but filled with curiosity. “I thought ye’d gone home after ye left the castle.”
Annabeth hesitated for a moment, her hands stilling before continuing with her work. Her gaze flickered up to meet his, her eyes soft but full of emotion. “I... I couldnae stay away,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, as if the weight of her own words had just sunk in. “I kept thinkin’ about... I couldnae...”
A strange mix of relief and joy surged through Marcus. He couldn’t believe she’d returned, that she’d chosen to be here with him. Without thinking, he reached for her, pulling her into his arms. The kiss he pressed to her lips was urgent, filled with the raw emotion that had built up inside him.
The moment their lips parted, Marcus felt a rush of relief, the tension in his chest easing for the first time in what seemed like forever. He had been longing for her touch, and now that she was here, so close, it felt like everything was finally falling into place. But as soon as he leaned in for more, Annabeth pushed him away, her expression suddenly cold. The warmth that hadblossomed between them faded as she stepped back, her hands moving toward his wound instead.
“I need to treat the wound,” Annabeth said firmly, her voice distant now, as if she had built a wall between them in that one swift motion.
Marcus felt the sting of her words, but his heart ached more from the coldness that had replaced the tenderness. “Annabeth,” he began, his voice rough with regret, “I’ve been a fool. I couldnae see how much I cared for ye before; I was too stubborn to admit it.” His gaze softened as he met her eyes, hoping she would understand.
“When ye left the castle,” Marcus continued, his voice quieter now, filled with the weight of his admission, “ye broke me. I didnae realize how much ye meant to me until it was too late.” He felt his chest tighten as he spoke, the vulnerability raw and unguarded. There had been so many things left unsaid, and now, with the truth spilling from his heart, he could only hope she’d hear him.
