Chapter 5
Breana was used to being left behind. She was the oldest of her sisters, but she had never been the first among them.
In their family, Nessa had been the only one prized by their parents, beloved by them both, though Breana suspected she had faced her own hardships in that role.
Maeve, though she had suffered just as much as Breana had as a child, had always been the beautiful one, the fierce one.
Maeve was Breana's younger sister, but she had always taken care of Breana, more than the other way around—at least, that's what it had always felt like.
Then, when Maeve had been taken away from her and married off to Malcolm Darach, Breana had been left alone.
She had blended into the background, unseen and unspoken to, for years, a ghost in her own childhood home.
Her father ignored her, her younger sister avoided her.
It had been an empty life, a lonely one, but safe, at least. She had written Maeve a hundred letters, but she could never convince a servant to take them—her father had forbidden it—and so she had slowly retreated into a cocoon of only herself.
Even that comfort had been taken from her, though, when she was sent off to be married to Kyle Darach. She flinched away from the memory of that short but awful time she had spent in this very castle.
But now…now everything was different. Maeve had saved her.
The rebels had saved her. They had given her a place among them, and yet Breana still somehow felt like she'd been left behind.
Everyone here had a role, a purpose. Her new friends Ferda and Patty were a scout and a healer respectively; her closest friend Eoin was a brave guard; Maeve and her love were fierce warriors and the future king and queen beside.
But Breana? She didn't fit anywhere. She'd never learned to cook or to heal, never developed the stomach to fight.
She tried to lend a hand where she could, but she felt hopeless, like she would never find a place to be herself—or even to discover who that self really was.
All that Breana liked to do was draw. Though she cleaned up after the healers and the cooks, she really felt like the only thing she was good at was designing and drawing up the maps that so fascinated her.
After spending such a long time trapped, she had developed a sixth sense for cartography, bringing the worlds she'd believed she'd never visit into her home and her heart.
But now, she felt silly and even inadequate, doodling a detailed map of the lands of Bruce Castle and the surrounding clan lands, not sure if she would ever find a sense of purpose.
"Are ye all right?"
Breana blinked, startled by the voice interrupting her, and looked up to see Eoin standing at the door to the library.
He was leaning against the frame, watching her closely.
She smiled to see him despite her inner turmoil.
He'd helped save her from his father, and in the aftermath of Kyle Darach's death, the two of them had bonded.
Eoin had gone through a complex time after the execution of his evil father; he had spared no tears for the man, but neither could he pretend that he was absolutely fine with what had happened.
Breana, who knew what it was to be the child of a tyrant, had been there to comfort him, in thanks for all he had done to save her.
They had become friends, perhaps her first true friend outside of her sister, though she still found it hard to believe that he didn't just feel responsible for her.
"Eoin," she acknowledged. "I'm just…drawin'. Sorry."
"Sorry for what? Ye're free tae draw," Eoin said with a small laugh. "Ye ken ye dinnae need tae apologize for existin', Breana."
He was trying to be kind, but Breana felt a wave of shame go through her.
She wished she could explain what was going on inside her mind and why that sense of inadequacy lingered, but she knew that if she tried to explain, he would just try to comfort her.
She didn't know that anyone would ever see her as an equal even with all her flaws.
Maybe if they did, she'd find her strengths—if she had any at all.
Eoin walked over to stand behind her and peered over her shoulder to examine her map. "That's impressive," he said, with a sincerity in his voice that took Breana back. "Is this an accurate map?"
"As accurate as I could make it from me wanderin's and the reference books," Breana told him cautiously. Was he going to make fun of her?
But he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he seemed truly fascinated as he continued. "It's good. Better than some of the things our cartographer managed durin' the journeys. Ye should show them yer work, see if—"
"No, no, it's just for fun," Breana said hastily, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I'm naewhere near good enough tae be able tae offer real help."
Eoin tutted, but he didn't outwardly argue. Instead, he said, "Did ye want tae come and get some food? Ye missed the midday meal, so I asked the cooks tae save ye a plate. It's important ye keep yer strength up."
It was Breana's turn to laugh gently. "I've never missed a meal in me life except by choice, Eoin. I'll nae starve for skippin' a few. I'm nae as delicate as I seem, ye ken."
Eoin slipped into the seat next to her, and she turned, meeting his eyes.
They were deep blue and large, owlish and intense, and she found them warm and welcoming in a way she'd never really experienced before.
His auburn hair was dark, reminding her of the color of the leaves in the autumn, and he was soft and warm and friendly in a way that made it hard to keep up her shield around him.
"I never said ye were delicate," Eoin told her. "I was tryin' tae compliment yer map."
Breana broke eye contact, feeling overwhelmed for reasons she didn't really understand. "Thank ye for the compliment. But I'm really nae very hungry. If we have a spare plate, can ye send it with the rest of the food we usually send down tae the village?"
He was still watching her, concern in those eyes. "Only if ye promise me ye'll eat dinner."
"I swear it," she said, though it was mostly just to make him happy. She didn't really have much of an appetite these days.
Eoin nodded. He paused, then said, "Do…do ye mind if I stay? I'd love tae see the way ye draw."
Stay, said the voice inside Breana's mind, eager to have him by her side in a way she'd never really experienced before.
She found things easy with him, and to have him here would be a comfort when she was otherwise feeling so adrift.
But when she opened her mouth, the words that came out were, "Ye should go.
Ye have much tae do around here, and I'm just drawin'. "
Eoin's smile faltered, and Breana wanted to take it back. But instead, they sat there in awkward silence for a moment, until at last he let out a small sigh and nodded. He stood up and headed toward the door.
"Eoin, wait."
He turned back. "Aye?"
"Have…have ye heard anythin' about Maeve? And the others?" Breana asked. It had only been a few days, so she wasn't expecting anything, but she would never forgive herself if she didn't ask.
A flicker of something showed in Eoin's eyes. It almost looked like disappointment. But a moment later, he smiled and said, "Nae news yet, but I'm nae worried. If anyone can manage tae get the country together again, it's Cailean and Maeve."
Breana nodded, though she felt a strange tightness in her heart again. Yes, she believed that Eoin was right—her sister could do anything. Breana just wished she could say the same about herself.
Eoin hesitated, looking like he wanted to say more. Then he sighed and said, "I'll see ye at supper then."
"See ye at supper," Breana replied.
He left then, and she was suddenly aware of how quiet the library was with just her in it. Why hadn't she asked him to stay? She'd wanted to. But instead, here she was, alone with just her map, no news of her sister, no way to help.
Tears filled Breana's eyes, and she wiped them away in frustration. She was being ridiculous and she knew it. Why couldn't she just say what she wanted? Why couldn't she just find the place where she fit?
She peered at her map, squinting at it, trying to understand what was wrong.
Eoin had said it was impressive, but Breana knew there was something not right with it.
Looking closer, she realized the issue in a flash—the area around the forest was missing a lot of detail, detail that wasn't present in any of the maps that already existed in the castle.
That was something she could do. She'd go for a walk in the forest now to clear her head and maybe take note of some of the detail that were missing. Maybe then, she'd feel like she had a place—even if that place was just outside the walls of the castle.
Breana had been strolling in the forest for almost an hour, taking notes as she walked, absorbed in her work.
For the first time in a while, her heart lifted, enjoying what she was doing, feeling centered.
Maybe there was something to what Eoin had said about her talking to the cartographers.
Maybe she could be of some help after all; maybe—
"Help…please help…"
The faint voice shocked Breana out of her thoughts, and she spun where she stood, seeking out the sound.
"Help me…"
It was a woman's voice, and it sounded weak. Whoever was begging for help was clearly in pain, and they were nearby. Breana looked around wildly, hoping one of the other rebels would appear, but she was alone in the forest. Alone, that was, except for whoever was begging for help.
She needed to do something, and she pushed through her sudden paralyzing fear. "Can ye hear me? Where are ye?" she called back, hoping that the injured woman could not hear the shaking in her voice.
"...help…"