by Ava McArthur
At least it meant her life mattered. At least she could do something to protect her clan, just as her father had. It was easy for Marcas to emulate their father on the battlefield, but such opportunities were rarer for Moira, and if this meant that Gregor and Lileas would never have to watch their father be slain in war, then it was worth it.
“I’m gaeing tae miss ye, Moira,” Kirsten said. Whatever wall she had erected to stem the flow of sadness crumbled, and she gave in to her sorrow again. The two women came together and reminisced about all they had been through.
Kirsten tried to reassure Moira about the future, but even though Moira hoped for the best, she expected the worst. All her life, she had heard bad things about the Calbraiths. They had hated her family for generations, and they had been the invading force that caused her father’s death. She wasn’t sure that she could ever love one of them, but she would have to do her duty for her family—and her clan.
3
On the following morning, Moira did not rise with anything like her usual exuberance. Instead of leaping out of bed with a smile on her face, she lurched and staggered, sighing as she gazed out of the window, knowing it was going to be the last time for a long time that she had this view.
She spent some time looking around her room, thinking of all the nights spent here, all the memories that were imbued into the walls. Leaving this room was akin to leaving a part of herself behind, and it was a heart-wrenching thing to tear herself away from her home.
As she moved through the hallways, the servants and maids wished her well. She couldn’t help but notice the trepidation in their voices, as though they feared the worst about the Calbraiths. Marcas waited for her outside.
A wagon was waiting to take her to her destiny. The driver looked resolute and impassive, and at that moment, Moira could almost have believed that their father had come alive again.
“Are ye ready?” he asked.
“Ye look like him...ye really dae,” Moira said. Her words were sharp as she still held some frustration in her heart for him at how this had all transpired.
Marcas tossed her belongings into the back of the wagon and then took the reins, while Moira sat beside him. She looked behind her and waved at the home she was leaving behind, while Marcas’s gaze was firmly locked on the road ahead.
Moira said goodbye to everything in her mind—to the people who lived there, to the sights and sounds, to the animals grazing in the field, to the stables and the flowers…she sighed as it receded from view, as though a chapter of her life was closing and a new one was beginning.
She swung her body around to face ahead. The wagon was being drawn by two black mares. The road was bumpy, and the wheels clacked as they spun around. The horses moved at a good clip.
“If I didnae know any better, I’d think ye were trying tae get rid of me,” Moira muttered.
Marcas exhaled deeply and glanced at her.
“Ye know that’s nae true.”
“Dae I?” she asked, and tension hung in the air. “Marcas, the least ye could hae done was tell me this was a possibility.”
“I thought ye knew. I thought ye always knew that this was gaeing tae happen one day, or that it might happen.”
“I suppose I did, but I still would hae liked tae be warned. I was used tae my life the way it was. I got used tae the road ahead. It was all simple, and it all made sense.”
“Aye, well, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that life never works out the way we assume it will. But that doesnae mean it ends up being bad.”
“I know, ye and Kirsten found happiness, and the same might be true for me, but I would hae appreciated a wee warning, dae ye understand?”
“Aye, and I’m sorry for that,” he said, his head drooping. “In truth, I didnae want tae face the prospect myself. Laird Calbraith brought the matter up early on in our negotiations, but I dismissed it then. Ye are my best friend, Moira, and I dinnae want tae see ye leave our home. But he was insistent, and I spoke with my advisors. A marriage is always the best way tae seal peace. It’s nae easy, but it’s the way it haes tae be.”
“Aye,” she replied, sadly. “I dinnae blame yer brother. I know it is best for the clan.” She hadn’t felt the same way the previous day, but after reflecting on the matter for the night, she was determined to be reasonable. Besides, she didn’t want these last moments with her brother to be marred by petty sulking.
Marcas nodded, and then a thoughtful look came upon his face. “Did ye mean what ye said before we left? Dae ye truly think I look like Da?”
“Aye! Ye are like him in every respect, Marcas. He would be proud of ye if he could see ye now.”
Marcas smiled. “He’d be proud of ye as well.”
“I hope I can make him proud. Sae, what can ye tell me of my future husband?” she asked, almost afraid to inquire. Marcas arched his eyebrows and took a deep breath.
“Laird Niall is an impressive man. Very tall and strong, and very confident in himself. He seems tae know what he likes, and he often knows how tae get it. He speaks his mind, and his people respect him. He’s smart enough tae know that peace is something tae strive for, but he’s nae shy in promising war if he feels he isnae getting a fair deal.”
“He sounds like a dangerous man,” Moira said.
Marcas shrugged. “I hae handled him sae far, and since ye hae dealt with me and Roderick over the years, I daresay ye are well-equipped tae making a good impression on him.” He paused for a moment, as something was on his mind. “Ye know, Moira, I wouldnae hae done this if there was any other way.
These negotiations…they hae dragged on, and I can feel people getting restless. The longer they take, the more people believe that war between our clans is inevitable. Some already think that trying to find peace with them is gaeing against nature. Our clans have been in conflict for generations, and tae some, that means it is the natural order of things. I want tae prove that we dae nae hae tae be at war.
This marriage is a sign that our two clans can live taegether peacefully and that we dinnae always hae tae rush tae war as a solution. In the end, it was the only thing that worked,” he admitted.
“I understand, Marcas. I sometimes forget that it is difficult tae be laird and make everyone happy. Sometimes ye hae tae give up something ye love. I will make sure tae represent the Monroe clan well and prove to all the Calbraiths that they should never think about gaeing tae war with us.”
“I’m sure ye’ll change a few minds. I could think of naebody better tae represent us,” Marcas said. Their conversation fell into memories of their childhood as they drove along the long road that led to Calbraith territory.
The woods were thick, and the sky was clear. In the distance, she occasionally caught glimpses of mountains. The scenery around her was familiar and similar to what she had grown up with, and she hoped that it would make the transition a little easier to bear. After all, the stars and the moon would be the same too. It was only the people around her who would be different.
As the Calbraith lands came into view, a knot twisted in Moira’s stomach. Ever since Kirsten had come into their lives, and then the children, the moments spent alone with Marcas had been few and far between. While she didn’t hold this against Kirsten or the children, it was still nice for Moira to be alone with her brother, although it made the prospect of saying goodbye to him harder.
“How long are ye gaeing tae stay for?” Moira asked, her words catching in her throat.
“Long enough tae see ye settled and make sure that the marriage actually takes place. Then I’ll return home.”
Home.
The word was such a simple one, and yet it carried within such powerful feelings and sensations. The Monroe clan would always be home to her, and yet this place would come to be known as home as well. This place, with its strange buildings and unfamiliar layout, with the people whose faces were unknown to her, would be her home.
Moira shivered a little and suddenly felt more uncertain. There was no way
for her to tell Marcas to turn the wagon around and drive her away. She was being pulled forward by destiny, and there was no way for her to resist.
They pulled up near the stables and then alighted. A servant took her bags into the castle, which was made of dull grey stone, and looked foreboding. The sound of a blacksmith working greeted her ears.
Moira looked around for any sign of her new husband, but although she saw a number of swarthy men, she knew none of them were him. But her gaze did meet a woman who looked as old as time itself.
Her hair was wispy and thin, like strands of cobwebs, and she rested on a thick, gnarled cane. She wore a loose cloak that swallowed her thin limbs, and approached the newcomers.
“Greetings to the Calbraith clan.” She spoke in a soft voice, yet one that had a surprising amount of power. “I am Grizel, one of the elders of the clan. Please, come with me, and I will escort ye inside. How was yer journey?”
Moira and Marcas glanced at her. It was evident from his expression that Marcas hadn’t seen her before, and Moira wondered why an old hag like her had been tasked with greeting them. She had hoped that she might find a friend here, just as Kirsten had found a friend in Moira.
But if Grizel was the only friend that could be offered, Moira thought she might be better off without one. It wasn’t that she didn’t respect her elders or was instantly dismissive of anyone who might be a little different, it was more that there was something about Grizel that made Moira uneasy, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it might be.
“Good, good. I’m glad. Ye can never be tae careful when traveling through the woods. There are malevolent spirits out there in the Highlands, waiting tae pluck unsuspecting travelers away.” As she said this, she made a motion with her hands as though she was plucking a feather out of a chicken, and then let out a cackling laugh, which descended into a harsh cough.
“Are we well?” Moira asked with concern.
Grizel dismissed her words with a casual wave of the hand. “Aaye, there are plenty of rowan trees around in the woods tae protect us from the evil spirits here. Ye dinnae need tae worry about that.”
Moira opened her mouth, about to explain that she was referring to Grizel’s cough, but Marcas frowned and shook his head. Grizel hummed to herself as she led them to the castle, walking slowly on her old legs.
People gave them strange glances as they passed; Moira wasn’t sure if this was because they were strangers or because they were being escorted by Grizel.
When they reached the castle, the doors were opened wide, and Laird Niall Calbraith strode out, looking larger than life. He was taller than her, although a little shorter than Marcas. He appeared to be strong, and yet his frame was slim.
His hair was brown—so dark it was almost black—and the same was true of his eyes. He did not wear a beard, so his smile was evident, and his arms were stretched out.
“Laird Monroe, Lady Monroe, it is my pleasure and honor tae welcome ye tae my home.” He bowed to Marcas and then to Moira. He also took her hand and pressed his lips against her flesh. When he rose, he locked eyes with her.
There was something twinkling in them, something that spoke to her. Her heart raced and breath caught in her throat, while a smile appeared on her face without her even realizing it. When his hand slipped away from hers, she found that his warmth lingered, and in fact, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
He was not what she expected at all; he was handsome and charming rather than the barbarian she had assumed him to be. He wore a smart tunic and exuded a sense of control and confidence, two things that were eminently attractive. Her head began to swim, and she wondered how things could change so quickly and dramatically. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be as bad as she feared.
She thought back to how Marcas had greeted Kirsten; he had been rude and curt, and ended up barely paying her any attention at all. Niall was the complete opposite of that, and Moira was grateful that she wouldn’t have to melt an icy heart. If nothing else, at least Niall was going to be easy to talk to.
“Grizel, what are ye daeing here?” he asked in a beleaguered tone as he spotted the old hag. “I hope ye hae nae been bothering our guests with yer fairytales.”
Before Grizel could reply, he turned back to Marcas and Moira. “Ignore anything she’s told ye; she likes tae spread her wee stories, and it’s only out of respect of her age that we let her.”
“Ye used tae like my stories,” Grizel muttered as she waddled off, her cane thudding against the ground as she moved away. Niall sighed and clapped his hands together, broadening the smile on his face.
“Let us nae waste any more time out here. Come in, come in. I’m sure ye must be hungry and thirsty after yer journey. Please, come inside and let me offer ye some hospitality.”
Moira and Marcas followed him into the castle. Her nerves had settled and had been replaced with something a little different, although no less exhilarating. Moira had always been a curious young woman, and now that instinct took over.
She cast her glance into every shadow and every nook and cranny, eager to learn about her new surroundings as though she was on some scouting mission. But, in the back of her mind, she knew that this was going to be her new home, and all she could do when she looked around was think about how different it was from the home she had just left.
4
Niall led them into a large room that had a square table in the middle, with seats arranged around it. On the table were plates and dishes, and trays filled with meat and vegetables.
There were also jugs of wine, ale, and water. Niall opened his palms and gestured for Marcas and Moira to join them. They took their seats and Marcas tucked in eagerly, while Moira was a little more reserved. There was another man in the room, one who looked like Niall, but younger.
Niall introduced him as his brother Jamie. Although he was younger and the features on his face were boyish, the rest of him was not. Jamie’s muscles bulged, and he wore clothes that allowed him to show off his strength.
“I’m glad ye hae made it here,” Niall said, sitting at the table and filling his plate with food. As soon as he sat down, his brother followed suit and piled such a large amount of food on his plate that Moira stopped eating for a moment and gawked at him.
Jamie noticed and shifted his body, curling an arm around his plate as if to shield it from view. Moira felt as though she had done something untoward and looked down at her own plate, forcing herself to eat even though she didn’t really want to, but it would have been rude to refuse Niall’s hospitality. Her gaze flicked up to Niall.
Every time she looked at him, he seemed to grown even more handsome, although his attention seemed firmly focused on Marcas.
“Are ye afraid of the malevolent spirits as well?” Marcas asked with a wry smile.
Niall chuckled and shook his head. “Ye must forgive me. Grizel has some strange ideas about what happens in the world. But she is an elder, and she must be respected. She is harmless, though,” he said.
“Well, I wasnae gaeing tae let anything stop me from coming here, nae even spirits. This is tae important.”
“Indeed, it is. I’m glad that we hae finally come tae an arrangement. This is gaeing tae be the beginning of a new era for both our clans. We hae done something that none of our ancestors hae ever been able tae dae, and I think that’s worthy of a toast,” he said, raising his glass. Marcas followed suit, as did Jamie, although his movements were hurried as he was stuffing his face with potatoes. Moira raised her mug as well, but she was slower than the others, and it didn’t seem as though anyone was noticing her.
“Aye, and it means we dinnae hae tae be worried about war either,” Marcas added.
Niall smiled and raised his glass again.
“I’m sae glad we were able tae come tae this arrangement. It will be a benefit tae both our clans, and a warning tae anyone else in the Highlands that threatens us. For tae long, the Calbraiths and the Monroes hae been at each other’s throats, but wi
th our combined strength, there is naebody that can threaten us. And it’s all down tae ye,” Niall said.
Moira looked up, expecting and even hoping that he was looking at her because, after all, the marriage wouldn’t have been able to take place without her. Instead, his glass was raised towards Marcas, who accepted the praise humbly.
Moira looked down at her food, as she couldn’t hide the disappointment on her face. She had hoped that Niall felt the same flush of emotion that had swept through her upon their meeting, but it seemed as though he was like Marcas and saw this marriage as a means to an end.
She was here to form an alliance, not to fall in love. It would be wise of her to remember that, although she feared that it was already too late to harden her heart.
Marcas and Niall already had an easy familiarity because of their time spent negotiating with each other. Moira sensed that her brother was glad to relax rather than always be on his guard around Niall. Jamie was mostly concerned with eating and didn’t offer much to the conversation.
Moira listened and laughed when it was appropriate, but other than that, she let the two men talk about matters of war. Niall asked after Marcas’s wife and children, subjects that Marcas was all too happy to talk about. They also spoke about Roderick, but briefly.
“I hae been asking if anyone haes seen him, just in case he pops up tae cause trouble again, but he seems tae be agreeing tae the terms of his exile,” Niall said.
Marcas’s hand tightened around his mug and slammed it down on the table after he had taken a long gulp. “As well he should. If I ever see him again, I will kill him. And he knows that.”
“It would be a foolish man tae ever anger ye, and I assure ye, I hae never been one tae play the fool. But while this haes been a pleasant evening, the hour grows late and I would like tae get some rest before my wedding taemorrow. I’m sure that the good lady will feel the same. Laird Monroe, with your permission, I would like tae escort Moira tae her room. Jamie will show ye tae yours,” he said.
