Epilogue
One week later
The stones were slippery under James’ feet. He had never noticed it before, the wear and tear right outside his father’s study, which had left the floor slick. Only now that he was pacing back and forth, wearing the stones even further with his incessant walking, did he see just how much damage all those hundreds—if not thousands—of pairs of shoes had caused throughout the centuries.
His shoulder ached. His head ached. His temples pounded with every step and he was still weak, much to his chagrin, but he couldn’t sit still. Across from him in the hallway, Freya stood with her back leaning against the wall, watching him.
“Dinnae fash,” she said, though she sounded a little uncertain herself. “Whatever they decide, we will face it together.”
James had made his decision. He was going to marry Freya no matter what, but if the council didn’t agree to this marriage, if his mother and father continued to forbid it, then he would have no choice but to give up the lairdship to Edward. It wouldn’t be a terrible fate, he told himself—Edward was as skilled as he was, a leader and a warrior, and the clan would be in good hands. The only thing he would regret would be not having his family by his side anymore.
Edward and Morgana would visit him, even if he had to leave the castle. But his father? His mother? Though they had done much to alienate him, he still cared for them, and the thought of never seeing them again was more heartbreaking than he would have thought.
The door opened with a low creak and one of the elders of the council beckoned both him and Freya inside. James exchanged a quick glance with her and as she pushed herself off the wall, he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together tightly.
Whatever they decide, we’ll face it together.
Inside his father’s study, the air was charged with the kind of gravity and severity that instantly felt oppressive, settling heavy on his shoulders. His father sat in his chair, surrounded by the council members, while his mother now sat by the window, gazing outside.
It was strange, seeing her anywhere else other than his father’s side. So used was he to seeing them together that now James couldn’t help but wonder what had provoked this separation in the first place—the presence of the council? A disagreement between them?
Out of the two of them, his mother had the most likely been the one to have put up a fight when it came to deciding whether he could marry Freya, he knew that all too well. And for exactly that reason, he had stayed away from her as much as possible until a decision was reached.
Next to him, Freya stood tall and calm, but her hand was like a vice around his own. James’ gaze swept over the small crowd as he tried—and failed—to read the expressions of the councilmen. He braced himself for the worst. Not even Edward had been called to this meeting and so James couldn’t help but feel as though he didn’t have a single ally in that room.
Only Freya; but her opinion didn’t matter here. They were both perfectly aware of how little their opinions and desires mattered.
“Perhaps ye’d like tae sit,” his father said, gesturing at one of the empty chairs in front of his desk. “It’s nae good fer ye tae stand.”
“I’m fine,” James said impatiently. “I dinnae need tae sit. I need tae ken what it is ye decided.”
The talks had been going on for days. From the very moment James opened his eyes, he had insisted that his family and the council had to come to an agreement soon, otherwise he would simply wed Freya, their permission be damned. He had waited for days, but now he refused to wait any longer.
James exchanged a glance with Freya, but her expression was guarded, unreadable. The council members mumbled among themselves as they waited, but James couldn’t hear what they were saying. All he could do was shift his weight from one foot to the other nervously, his heart beating wildly as he kept glancing at the door. Finally, it opened to reveal Edward.
“Good, ye’re here,” his father said, clearing his throat as he sat a little straighter. “We can begin.”
Closing the door behind him, Edward came to stand next to James, while Freya stood behind him, keeping her distance. James could only imagine what was going through her mind, this world so different from her own. “We have all come to an agreement,” his father said, his baritone voice booming over the mumbles of the councilmen and forcing them into silence. “This was nae an easy decision fer any of us, but understand that what we have decided is best fer us all.”
James didn’t like the sound of that very much. He knew what his parents considered to be for the best, and it didn’t involve a marriage with Freya. Still, he remained quiet, listening attentively and gathering up all his strength to make his case if they continued to be stubborn about it.
“Considering the great lengths in which Miss Webster went in order tae save me son’s life, not once but twice, and the fact that she succeeded, we think it is only proper tae show our gratitude by arranging a marriage between them,” said his father, and for a few moments, James’ mind failed to catch up. So convinced was he that his father would reject his appeal that he had only prepared himself for failure. Now that victory had come, he was frozen, mouth hanging open in shock.
Next to him, Freya almost collapsed with relief as she curled into his body. The same relief crashed over him and now he wished he had accepted the offer for a seat, his knees barely holding his weight.
When she turned back to look at him, James cupped her cheek gently, gazing into her eyes. He wanted to kiss her, to tell her how much he loved her, to finally call her his wife, even though it was not yet official. But propriety dictated that he act restrained in front of his family and the council, and so he only pressed a tender kiss to her forehead—a silent promise of everything that would come later.
Edward gave him a pat on the shoulder and then, once he and Freya left the room after thanking all present, he put his arms around her and kissed her, pouring all the love he felt for her into that kiss.
“I love ye, mo ghraidh ,” he said softly, whispering against her lips.
“I love ye,” Freya said, her arms wrapping around his neck to hold him close.
And James knew everything would be alright.