Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Annabeth dismounted her horse with practiced grace, her boots hitting the ground with a soft thud.
She was still trying to shake off the tension from the long ride to the castle, but as she approached, her mind was already full of the things she needed to do.
The moment she stepped through the gates, she was greeted by Elena, her face pale with worry.
“Annabeth,” Elena said, her voice tight, “ye need to ken, Marcus and Eli have gone off to fight.”
Annabeth’s heart skipped a beat, a heavy feeling settling in her chest. She forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to keep the panic from rising.
“What do ye mean, fight?” she asked, trying to sound calm despite the unease swirling inside her.
Elena’s eyes flickered toward the distance, as if searching for answers that weren’t there, and then she spoke quickly, “They’ve gone to face Laird MacCormack. The guards said it’s a battle they cannae avoid.”
Annabeth swallowed hard, her thoughts racing. She wanted to rush after them, to make sure Marcus was all right, but she knew that wasn’t possible now. Instead, she shook her head, forcing herself to think practically.
“We need to prepare the infirmary,” she said firmly, her voice steadying as she took control of the situation. “If there are injuries, we’ll need to be ready.”
Elena nodded quickly. “I’ll fetch the supplies and make sure the room is ready,” she replied, already moving toward the castle’s interior.
Annabeth watched her go for a moment before turning to head toward the infirmary herself. Her mind swirled with a thousand thoughts—concern for Marcus, for Eli, and for the outcome of whatever battle they had walked into. But she couldn’t allow herself to succumb to fear. She had a job to do.
As Annabeth entered the infirmary, she immediately began checking over the shelves, ensuring everything was in its place.
The familiar scent of herbs and medicines filled her nose, grounding her as she worked.
She adjusted the bandages, sharpened the medical tools, and made sure the bed linens were fresh.
Her hands moved almost mechanically, as though preparing for something she already knew was coming.
Her thoughts drifted back to Marcus. She couldn’t shake the image of him standing at the gates of the castle, his determined eyes focused on something she couldn’t reach.
She felt the ache in her chest, the worry gnawing at her insides.
But she shoved it aside, knowing that she couldn’t let her emotions cloud her judgment now. There was no time for hesitation.
When Elena returned, the two women worked, both of them focused on the task at hand. However, Annabeth noticed Elena place her hand on her belly and furrow her brow.
“Elena? Are ye alright?” Annabeth asked.
“I am heavy with worry. Should me bairn be born without a faither…” Elena’s eyes watered.
Annabeth took Elena’s hand. “I have every faith they will return in one piece.”
“Aye, of course,” Elena replied.
Annabeth knew that when the men returned, it would likely be with injuries, but she didn’t want to add to Elena’s worry.
The battle would be hard, and they would need to be ready to care for whatever came through the door.
Annabeth kept her thoughts centered on the work, determined not to let fear show on her face for Elena’s sake.
As the hours passed, Annabeth found herself listening for the sounds of horses or footsteps, wondering when Marcus would return.
The castle felt unnervingly quiet, and with each passing moment, the anxiety in her chest grew.
But she knew that she had to remain strong, for herself and for the others.
Her place was here, ready to help, ready to heal—whatever the outcome might be.
Annabeth stood by the large wooden table in the infirmary, her hands busy arranging the bandages and ointments, though her mind wandered constantly.
Lady Elizabeth stepped into the room with her usual grace, her steps measured, though there was an air of something unspoken between them.
Annabeth straightened, wiping her hands on her apron, and forced a smile onto her face.
“Yer Ladyship,” she greeted her softly, trying to mask the raw emotion behind her voice.
Elizabeth’s sharp eyes assessed her for a moment before she spoke. “Annabeth, ye’ve returned, but why is that?” Her voice was calm, but there was a hint of something more, a carefulness in her tone that set Annabeth on edge.
Annabeth hesitated for a moment, her fingers brushing over a cloth as she tried to find the right words. “I must speak with Marcus,” she said, her voice quieter than she’d intended. “I’ve somethin’ I need to say.”
Elizabeth’s gaze softened, but only just. “Aye, I can see that somethin’ has developed between ye and me son,” she said, her voice low but firm, “but I must say, I do nae approve. This bond ye share—it’s nae the sort of thin’ I ever wished for him.
And it cannae be, nae with what his future must hold.
He is a laird, lass. A laird that must marry of rank.
It is our wish he marry a woman of nobility from another clan to make allies. It is the way of things.”
Annabeth’s throat tightened, her pulse quickening at the words. She fought to keep her emotions in check, but the sting of rejection was sharp, and it was becoming more difficult to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.
“I understand,” she whispered, the words coming out more fragile than she’d intended. “I will nae stay longer than necessary. I will see to the injured then return home as ye wish.”
Elizabeth watched her for a moment longer, her expression unreadable. Then, with a slight nod, she turned on her heel and walked toward the door. “See that ye do,” she said over her shoulder, her tone clipped and final.
Annabeth stood frozen for a long moment, the words echoing in her mind like a distant drumbeat. The room felt colder now, emptier, as if the very air around her had shifted. She knew what she had to do, knew what was expected of her, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
As Lady Elizabeth left, the silence that followed felt heavy, suffocating even.
Annabeth took a slow breath, her heart aching as she looked around the room, at the preparations she had made, the space that was meant for healing.
She had thought, in a distant part of her heart, that there might be a different future for her and Marcus, but now, she saw the cruel reality before her, and it seemed more impossible than ever.
She wiped a stray tear away quickly, shaking her head as if to clear the thoughts from her mind. She had no place here, not in this castle, not in Marcus’ world. The sooner she returned home, the better for everyone. She would fulfill her duties and leave—there was no other choice.
But as she turned back to the preparations, one thought lingered: if she could just have one more moment with him, one more chance to explain, to make him see.
But that was a dream, a hope that would never come to pass.
Annabeth swallowed hard and steadied herself, knowing that no matter what she felt, the path she was on had already been chosen.
Annabeth stood still for a long moment, her hands clenched tightly around the fabric of her apron, staring blankly at the table before her. Her chest felt tight, the weight of her own foolishness sinking deeper with every passing second.
What had I thought?
She had thought that somehow, despite everything, there could have been more—more between her and Marcus, something deeper, something lasting. But now it seemed so ridiculous, so utterly naive.
She shook her head, as though to clear the thoughts, but they wouldn’t leave.
Of course, I am nae good enough for him.
Lady Elizabeth had made it so clear, hadn’t she? No matter what feelings she might have had for Marcus, no matter how much she cared for him, it would never be enough to change the world he lived in.
“I’m just a healer from the village,” she mused quietly. “A woman with nay rank, nay power. Naythin’ that could ever be enough for a laird like Marcus.”
Annabeth squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push away the flood of emotions that threatened to consume her. The ache in her heart was sharp, and no amount of rational thought could dull it.
“I should nae have come back,” she whispered mournfully, “I should’ve stayed home where it was safe, where I didnae have to face the truth of how out of place I am here.”
Annabeth’s heart cracked a little more, and her hands, still clutching the apron, trembled ever so slightly. She had thought she might find something different here, something she could belong to, but it was all a fleeting dream. The reality was painful—so much so that it took her breath away.