Nina, who had been quietly observing while adjusting herbs on the table, stepped closer with a soft sigh. Her expression was unreadable, though her wise eyes flicked from mother to daughter with faint sympathy. She reached out and checked Jason’s forehead, nodding as she felt the coolness under her touch. The crackling of the fire underscored the quiet tension binding the room.
Annabeth lay back against the pillows, exhaustion pulling at her features once more. Her breaths came slow and shallow, but steadier now that the medicine was doing its work. Her fingerstightened around Eva’s hand with surprising strength for a woman so frail. She swallowed hard, blinking through the tears clinging to her lashes.
“I only want ye safe,” she murmured, voice barely audible. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. If marryin’ him is the path ye choose… then may the heavens protect ye.”
“I daenae need heaven’s protection,” Eva said gently. “I’ve got me own wits and will. And maybe… maybe I’ll even bring a bit of warmth back into that man’s life.”
“Och, lass,” Annabeth whispered, closing her eyes. “Just promise me ye’ll run if he ever raises a hand or voice in cruelty. Promise me ye’ll leave this place if it becomes a cage.”
“I promise I’ll always think for meself,” Eva replied, brushing her mother’s cheek. “But I’m nae afraid of him. Truly, I’m nae.”
Nina placed another cool cloth on Jason’s forehead, then turned toward the two women with a small nod of approval. The healer’s presence brought a measure of peace to the room, her quiet footsteps soothing rather than intrusive. She moved with the practiced ease of someone who had tended to countless lives through good years and bad. Eva watched her a moment, grateful for her steadiness.
The fire spat softly, casting amber light across the carved bedposts. Eva squeezed her mother’s hand once more before leaning back to check Jason’s breathing. His color had improvedslightly, a sign that the worst might be passing at last. Relief spread like warmth through her tired limbs.
Annabeth opened her eyes again, studying her daughter with a mixture of fear and pride. Her lips trembled as if trying to form more protests, but weariness held her quiet. She sighed deeply, sinking into the pillows as though surrendering to fate’s heavy hand. Eva brushed back her hair once more, trying to soothe her.
“Sleep now, Maither,” Eva said. “Let the medicine do its work, and let yer mind rest. I’ll be right here when ye wake. This is a good thing, ye’ll see. Ye’re safe, Maither… truly.”
The chamber settled into a quiet lull as Annabeth’s eyes drifted closed again. Jason lay still but peaceful, his fever no longer burning with such cruel force. Nina finished her final checks before gathering her herbs with small, deliberate motions. When she approached Eva, her expression held a calm certainty that steadied Eva’s frayed nerves.
“They’ll mend,” Nina said softly. “Slowly, aye, but they’ll mend. Ye did right bringin’ them here.”
And as Eva sat between the two people she loved most in the world, listening to their steadier breaths, she believed Nina’s words. No matter what lay ahead, marriage, uncertainty, or the temper of a feared Laird, she would endure it. For them. And perhaps, in time, even for herself.
A soft knock sounded, light and quick. Eva opened the door to find the maid Amelie standing there. The lass had bright ambereyes and cheeks flushed from brisk walking. She dipped into a curtsey before speaking.
“Mistress Eva,” Amelie said, breathless. “The Laird is askin’ for ye. He told me to fetch ye straightaway.”
Eva kissed her mother’s cheek one last time and whispered that she would return soon. She smoothed the blankets around both her mother and brother out of habit before stepping toward the door. Her stomach fluttered with nerves that had no intention of settling as she followed Amelie down the corridor. The stone walls echoed faintly with their footsteps.
Servants carrying linens or trays slowed at the sight of her and dipped into curtseys as though she were someone important. It startled her each time, and she fumbled for a polite nod in return, unsure of the etiquette. She felt heat rise to her cheeks every time it happened, a strange mix of embarrassment and disbelief swirling in her chest. Never in her life had anyone bowed in her direction, and it felt entirely too much.
“Is it… is it normal for them to do that?” Eva finally whispered. “I’m nae anyone special. Why do they bow and curtsey to me?”
“Och aye ye are,” Amelie said with a cheerful grin. “Ye’re the Laird’s bride, after all. Folk are beside themselves waitin’ for the weddin’ this weekend.”
“This weekend?” Eva nearly tripped. “What do ye mean this weekend? There’s a weddin’ planned already?”
“Aye,” Amelie said, bobbing her head as though this were common knowledge. “Word’s all over the keep. I cannae wait to see the ceremony, everyone says it’ll be grand. They're all right happy it’s one of our own from the village.”
Eva’s heart hammered as frustration pricked hot behind her ribs. She clenched her hands at her sides and tried to keep her voice steady, though her breath came sharper now. The Laird had chosen a wedding date without even speaking to her? Humiliation and anger twisted inside her as Amelie led her up the final stair.
They reached the door to Connor’s study, and Amelie gave her a bright smile before slipping away. Eva didn’t bother to knock. She stepped inside, her pulse thundering, and found Connor standing behind his desk, looking over a map. The moment he lifted his gaze, she marched forward.
“How dare ye?” she snapped. “How dare ye pick a weddin’ date without askin’ me a single word? Is this how ye mean to treat me as yer wife?”
Connor straightened, blinking as though she’d spoken in another language. His brow arched with cool curiosity rather than guilt. He folded his arms loosely over his broad chest, waiting for her to continue. The nerve of the man made her want to throw something.
“What are ye talkin’ about, lass?” Connor asked calmly. “I havenae picked any weddin’ date.”
“Daenae lie to me,” Eva shot back, her cheeks flaming. “Amelie said the weddin’ is this weekend, and she heard it from the servants. Ye must have told someone. They are makin’ the preparations already.”
“I did nay such thing,” he replied, his voice steady. “I havenae arranged a weddin’ at all. Nae yet.”
“Ye expect me to believe that?” Eva demanded, her hands curling into fists. “This is nae the way to start a marriage, with secrets and falsehoods.”
Connor let out a long, tired sigh and scrubbed a hand down his face. He walked around the desk, stopping only a few steps from her, towering but composed. His gaze softened slightly, though his jaw tightened in frustration. When he spoke, his tone held a hint of patience strained thin.
