Memories slotted themselves neatly into Skye’s mind, starting with a pitiful meow coming from the undergrowth at the last Leanan Festival.
“Blackberry!” she gasped, reaching down for the cat. It yowled again and launched itself—herself—into her arms. Once settled in her arms, head resting against her chest, the cat began to purr loudly.
“Ye remember her?” Evander whispered.
Skye nodded, a lump lodging itself in her throat. “Me wee kitten. We found her the day of the festival, and ye said I could keep her. Ofcourse,I remember Blackberry!”
He huffed, shaking his head and biting back an amused smile. “Aye, of course ye rememberher. This wee maelstrom has caused more trouble than an entire enemy army.”
Skye paused, glancing up at him. “She hasnae been good while I was away?”
“Good? That wee cat is the personification of evil.”
Skye clicked her tongue, smoothing back Blackberry’s pointed ears. “I daenae believe that.”
“I can tell ye that she’s been menacing everybody since ye went away. Maids, soldiers, servants—all of them. Even her Laird.”
“Ach, she’s a Bryden through and through, then!” Skye laughed, bending her head to kiss Blackberry’s soft little head.
“Shall I clean up the mess, me Laird?” Susan asked, taking a step forward and gesturing to the open door. “Lady Bryden’s rooms are ready. The guest room is?—”
“Guest room?” Evander interrupted, frowning. “Why would Lady Bryden take the guest room? She’ll take her own rooms, as before.”
Susan reddened. “Lady Bryden’s rooms are… already occupied.”
Skye blinked up at her. “I… I daenae mind.”
Evander ignored her.
“Occupied?” he demanded. “By whom?”
“By me. I hope ye will forgive the intrusion,” a familiar voice echoed from the gallery above.
Skye flinched, her eyes widening. All three of them glanced up.
An older woman leaned over the railing of the gallery. Iron-gray hair was swept back into an austere knot at the back of her head. She wore a bright green gown that swamped her small frame. When she moved, she limped heavily, leaning on a walking stick.
“Maither,” Skye breathed, her eyes lighting up.
“Lady Helena,” Evander greeted. “What a pleasure to find ye here.”
“Where else would I be?” Helena replied, beginning her slow, tentative descent.
She’d broken a leg many years ago, and the bone never quite knitted. It left her with a deformed leg and a pronounced limp. Somehow, though, her small size and limp didn’t make her look less formidable.
Skye rushed to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. Tears welled up, stinging her eyes. She flung one arm around Helena’s shoulders, the other arm still carefully cradling Blackberry.
The cat growled in annoyance, batting Helena’s shoulder with one paw.
“What a spirited wee thing!” Helena laughed, wisely choosing not to stroke the cat. “Skye, I came as soon as I heard. Yer braither cannae leave the keep just yet. There’s too much to be done, but I’ll be sending him regular updates on yer well-being. He sends his love, too. Oh, pet, I never thought I’d see ye again.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
She reached out, cupping Skye’s face in her thin hands.
“I thought I’d lost ye,” she whispered. “We all did.”
“I’m nae lost,” Skye whispered back. “I’m right here.”
“So ye are,” Helena agreed, with a tight nod and a smile. “I’m sorry to have taken yer rooms. I suspect the servants panicked, with me being yer maither and a laird’s wife once upon a time. I’ll move me things.”
“No need,” Skye answered firmly. “I daenae remember me rooms, in any case.”
They both glanced over at Evander.
He sighed. “Well, if Skye doesnae mind taking a guest room, who am I to complain? Now, I’ll leave ye two to talk. It seems like ye have a good deal to talk about.”
