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“How is he, Murdina?” the laird asked as Murdina entered the parlor a moment later.
“Tis’ still too early to tell. He is restin’ now, and… well, we shall see,” she said, sitting down in a chair next to the fire.
Freya was sitting opposite her with Ella, and they both looked up, their faces pale and withdrawn.
“We… we are sorry, Murdina. We shouldnae have doubted ye,” Ella said, and Freya nodded.
“Ye were right–about everythin’–and we were foolish,” she said.
But Murdina only smiled and shook her head.
“Foolish? Nae, ye were nae foolish. Tis’ too easy to be taken in by lies and deceits and by the schemes of wicked men. We have all been taken in–nae just you,” she said.
Ella gave a weak smile, and their father rose to his feet, clearing his throat as he turned to address them. It was not often they were alone as a family, the four of them, even with the sad loss of two of their number, the memory of their mother and of Aoife now coming to the fore.
“I have nae always been the best of fathers. I am an arrogant, self-centered, self-interested man, and most of the time, I would rather be ridin’ out with the hunt or sharin’ whisky with my clansmen than concernin’ myself with the affairs of my daughters. But I want ye all to know–I love ye dearly, even if I am nae always so good at showin’ it. And what is more, I love yer dear sister and mother, too. Tis’ hard for me to talk about them, I miss them more than I can say, and their loss should make me a better man, but… I am ashamed to say it has nae always made me a better father. I hope the three of ye can forgive me,” he said.
Murdina looked at him with gratitude. It was just as he said it was. He had not always been a good father–far from it–but in admitting as much, he was showing a side of himself not often seen. The possibility of further loss had dealt him a bitter blow, and this was his way of making peace with them all.
“Ye are… right, Father,” she said, and her father shook his head.
“Then I ask ye to forgive me…” he began, but Murdina interrupted.
“But we three are nae without our faults–stubborn, silly, reckless, naive–and nae the sons ye always desired,” she said.
Her father looked at her and sighed.
“Ye are right; I did always want ye to be sons, nae daughters. But now I can see in you the qualities I would have desired in sons o’mine,” he said. “Freya couldnae have been braver in the face of what happened to her today, and it was Ella who took charge on your return. Ye are nae so helpless as I thought, and ye have proved that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Murdina.”
She smiled and rose to her feet to embrace him.
“Then we are all of us at peace. But ye know now ye have a son, two sons, indeed,” she said, and he looked at her curiously.
“Ye mean, Kin?” he said, and she nodded.
“Kin and Cillian–have they nae proved themselves the loyalist of men to ye, too–they are as much sons to ye as we are daughters, and I would ask ye to treat them as such now and in the future. For all our sakes,” she said.
Her father thought for a moment, nodding ponderously.
“I have been rather harsh on Cillian over the years, but only because I wanted him to flourish. He is… a brave soul and one I am proud to call my fellow clansman,” he said, smiling at Murdina, who raised her eyebrows.
“And what of Kin? What shall ye say of him?” she asked.
Her father thought again, a smile playing across his face, and he looked up and laughed, shaking his head and sighing.
“The spy? I knew nothin’ of him, nor of this mysterious order–the brotherhood of the knot or somethin’ similar–but… well, he has certainly proved himself worthy of my trust. Even if I failed to see what was before my eyes. I am as guilty as anyone of allowin’ those wicked men to manipulate me into thinkin’ somethin’ other than the truth,” he replied.
“Then ye shall accept him for who he is?” Murdina asked, and her father nodded.
“He has suffered terribly–the death of his family, the loss of his memory, my own failure in believin’ him. Aye, I shall accept him, and I shall accept whatever tis’ ye and him have planned for yerselves,” he said, causing Murdina to look at him in surprise.
“What… what dae ye mean?” she asked, and her father gave her an exasperated look.
“What dae ye think, Murdina? Am I so foolish as to nae see when my own daughter is in love? The two of ye were thick as thieves, even after I separated ye. I am nae so naïve as to think he entirely bewitched ye. I know my own daughter, and if ye had nae wished to go with him, then ye would have played merry hell about it. If ye love him, then so be it,” he said, smiling at her.
Murdina had always found her father difficult. The two of them were like chalk and cheese, and it was her mother whom she took after the most. But at that moment, there passed an understanding between them, which Murdina knew would remain forever. In his own way, she knew her father loved her, just as he did Freya and Ella, a love which went far beyond words, one which would endure as only the bonds of family do. And at that moment, too, Murdina forgave her father his wrongdoings, his mistrust, his failure to listen. He loved her, and she loved him, and nothing more now needed to pass between them save that simple knowledge.
“Thank ye, Father,” she said, and he put his arms around her and kissed her.
