The road stretched ahead, winding through hills and fields now softened by evening light. Eva watched the countryside pass, her thoughts drifting to the future that awaited them. There would be questions, pain, and healing yet to come, but also belonging and truth. She silently vowed to stand by both brothers, whatever path lay ahead.
When they returned to Castle McLaren, Eva followed Connor and Michael into the solar as dusk settled, the tall windows glowing with the last amber light of day. A long oak table stood near the hearth, set with trenchers of bread, wooden bowls, and chipped pewter cups. The air smelled of roasted venison, leeks, and barley broth, rich and comforting after the long road. Eva felt a quiet gratitude settle in her chest as they took their places, a family supper at last.
Servants moved softly as they laid out the meal, pouring ale and setting down platters still steaming from the kitchen. There was oat bannock warm from the griddle, butter melting into its cracks, and a dish of turnips mashed with salt and herbs.
Connor broke the bread and passed a piece to Michael, his voice gentle.
“Eat, lad,” he said, “ye’ve had a hard day and need strength.”
Michael took it with a small nod, fingers trembling just slightly. “Thank ye,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the table.
She watched Connor pour broth into Michael’s bowl without comment, the gesture simple and kind. Michael swallowed, then cleared his throat as though bracing himself.
“I owe ye an apology,” Michael said at last, his voice low but steady. He looked up at Connor, eyes bright with emotion. “I should’ve believed ye when ye said ye were me brother.”
Eva held her breath, sensing the weight of the moment.
Connor set his spoon aside and met Michael’s gaze. “There’s nay need for apologies,” he said quietly. “Anyone would be in disbelief to hear such a thing, and it’s nae easy to come to terms with.”
Michael’s shoulders eased just a little at those words. He looked down and pushed his food aside. He had barely touched it. “I wish I could’ve kent our parents,” he admitted, grief softening his tone. “But at least I’ve the chance now to get to ken ye.”
Eva felt her eyes sting, moved by the simple honesty of it.
Connor leaned back in his chair, studying his brother with care. “I wish that too,” he said, his voice thickening, “if we cannae change what was taken from us, we should make the best of the time we have. What we can do is make up for the lost time and be true brothers.”
Michael stared at Connor’s hand for a long moment before placing his own atop it.
“I’d like that,” he said softly. “I daenae ken all the rules of bein’ a brother, but I’ll try.”
Connor smiled then, a real smile that reached his eyes.
Eva watched them, her heart swelling as the firelight danced over their faces. She spoke gently, not wishing to intrude yet unable to stay silent.
“Ye’re both stronger than ye ken,” she said, “and this table will always be a place for truth.”
Michael glanced at her and gave a shy smile.
The servants returned with a dish of honeyed apples and cheese, setting it between them as the night deepened outside. Connor poured another round of ale, lifting his cup slightly.
“To family,” he said simply.
Michael echoed the gesture, his voice quiet but sure, “To family.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“Icannae believe this day is finally here,” Eva said, her eyes shining.
She sat on the edge of the bed while Annabeth smoothed her hair, Amelie hovered with nervous energy, and Margaret stood near the hearth with her hands clasped.
Eva’s heart beat fast, not with fear but with a deep, steady joy that made her chest ache. She felt surrounded by love, held fast before her life changed forever.
“I thought I would never see the day me grandson marries, and now I can finally celebrate,” Margaret said.
Eva smiled at her, feeling the weight of generations in those words.
Annabeth stepped closer, her hands trembling as she brushed Eva’s sleeve.
“And I’m happy to see me daughter happily married to a man she cares for,” she said softly.
