She stopped. It was hard to swallow. She forced air into her lungs. Pressed her fingernails into the soft of her palms.
“But they forgot about me there,” she said quietly, her entire body trembling. She forced herself to remain upright, though. “They left me to rot.”
As soon as the words were out, everything felt too real. Now that she was safe, fed, and warm with a place to stay, she could see how close she had come to death all alone in that tower.
Saints… I almost dinnae make it.
Her stomach turned with phantom hunger pangs. The bruises on her ribs ached. She could feel the weight of the iron around her wrists as though she were physically restrained once more.
The edges of her vision began to go blurry, and her throat started to feel tight. Each breath she drew was like inhaling ice water. If she could get her limbs to work, she’d run. Just before her head was pulled under the syrupy anxieties, a hand wrapping around hers brought her to the surface.
Flora’s face came into view, but there was no pity there. There wasn’t any attempt to soothe, either. The touch was a tether, anchoring Amelia’s feet to the ground.
She didn’t say anything, just stood at Amelia’s side. They listened to the crickets singing in the grass. It seemed that speaking about what happened hadn’t shattered the world. She was still standing, even if someone else knew.
“Survival makes us sharp,” Flora said gently, her eyes cast at the stars above them. “But that doesnae mean we must remain blades forever.”
Amelia frowned, nearly pulling away. Being this way was the only reason she was alive now. The idea of allowing the edge to dull even a little was unacceptable. Stubbornly, though, she held onto Flora.
“The sharpness is me only defense,” Amelia said softly. “I maynae be able to be anythin’ but a blade.”
Flora hummed, her hand tightening around Amelia’s briefly. She didn’t question Amelia’s reasoning, nor did she try to change her mind. It disarmed Amelia, and she was almost relieved to allow it to happen.
“Ye owe nay one the tellin’,” she said softly, her voice warm and accepting. There was a firm, undeniable encouragement there, too. “But ye do owe yerself the truth.”
Even though Flora had delivered the words with a careful softness, they landed like lead. Instinctively, her mind rejected the notion that she was lying to herself. But she knew that wasn’t what Flora meant.
Some things are too scary, too heartbreakin’ to speak of. Even to meself.
* * *
“She seems to be adjustin’ well,” Lucas said, accepting the glass of scotch that Darragh passed him. “And she and Flora are gettin’ on.”
“Aye, I kent they would,” Darragh replied as he poured himself his own glass and settled into the armchair next to Lucas. “Amelia’s been makin’ steady progress though I wasnae expectin’ her to be so open at dinner.”
“Well, ye did say she’s a laird’s daughter, aye?” Lucas asked, swirling the liquor in his glass. “I imagine a formal dinner felt familiar to her. Ye havenae had any other guests since she arrived?”
“Nay.” Darragh took a long draw of his drink, feeling the way it burned down his throat. “I dinnae think she’d respond well to company.”
Ach, and she dinnae either. Thank the Saints she and Flora get along.
“I understand the concern.” Lucas was leaning forward, watching the flames in the hearth. When he spoke, Darragh knew he was speaking from experience. “Ye daenae want to do anythin’ to sabotage her recovery, but ye want answers. Ye want to ken what she needs or who she is, so ye have to act strategically.”
Darragh grunted. Even though Lucas had a point, he wasn’t foolish enough to think their situations were similar. Flora’s fear had manifested differently. He was quite certain that the girl had never bared her teeth at Lucas.
“Have ye had any luck in findin’ her family?” Lucas asked a few moments later.
Finishing the bitter brown liquid, Darragh huffed. “Nay. She’s nae givin’ me anythin’ I can use to find her identity. And I’ve had to split me attention. Mackenzie riders were spotted goin’ through me territory, and we had an incident with a trap that I’ve been investigatin’.”
“I’ve been askin’ around,” Lucas muttered, leaning back in his seat. “It seems that nay one is aware of a woman her age missin’ from a castle. But I like to believe that I daenae associate with men who would make their own daughters afraid of their lineage.”
“Ye’re correct.” Darragh refilled his cup, waiting for Lucas to finish the last of his own serving. “Even if we did, they wouldnae be forthcomin’ with ye or me about their true natures. We dismantle their sick playgrounds. They wouldnae risk us turnin’ on them.”
He and Lucas shared a look. If he was to find Amelia’s father and deliver the justice the girl deserved, he’d have to look harder. He could only hope that spending time with Flora would get her to open up. If not, he wasn’t sure how else he could reach her.
“Since Flora hasnae sent a maid for me, it seems that Amelia agreed to accompany her on a walk,” Lucas said as he set his glass on the small table between them.
“I’m surprised Amelia was open to it,” Darragh admitted, watching as the fire licked the bricks inside the fireplace. “The lass has been…” He stopped for a moment, trying to pick the right word. “… combative. It wasnae until recently that she and I could share the room without a verbal spar.”
