Chapter 3
Chapter Three
A va had gone along with things so far, mainly because she hadn’t yet figured out what kind of mess she’d walked into, or how to get out of it. The men played their parts with complete sincerity, and certainly had the gear to go along with the story. That strange thing that kept throwing her back to Tasgall and Rory in the hall they called the trap’s entry had been pretty convincing, too. Despite that, up until this moment she believed she’d gotten caught up in some kind of elaborate con job. They might have done something to her as well with an aerosol drug she’d inhaled to make her believe she couldn’t escape. Now, outside the castle, she saw she had been dead wrong. It was too real and too bizarre to be staged or a hallucination.
Nowhere on the earth that she knew could there exist a place like this.
Dun Talamh had to be thirty times the size of the castle that occupied Renard Beaumont’s cliffside property, with wide stretches of ground between the two towering, wide stone walls that surrounded it. The castle itself looked like a highly detailed sculpture that some giant had chiseled out of an enormous mountain of red granite, which didn’t quite match the stone of the place that she had walked into in her time. The stone blocks appeared newer here and sparkled in the green light pouring down on it. She imagined that the glitter came from frost until she glanced at one of the nearby walls and saw all the tiny scarlet crystals embedded in the granite.
If those were rubies, Ava thought, these people literally lived inside a treasure house.
Above the castle an impossibly grass-green sky stretched out, lit by sunlight but without a sun anywhere she could see. Instead, enormous rivers of white cloud streamed overhead, some tinged with amber, peach, and light tangerine from that hidden light source. From those clouds several blue and white waterfalls poured, hurtling down into large pools between the two walls, as well as several dozen piped basins atop the roofs. The cold air made snowflakes out of the mist from the falls, which blew on the wind to land in drifts on every patch of ground.
“Winter in a world with no sun but snow squalls and sky waterfalls.” Ava glanced at the laird, who had pulled his cloak tighter against the chilly wind. “You were right. No one can believe this until they see it.”
“’Twas the same for me,” Tasgall told her, his expression turning bleak.
A blurry, indistinct forest made a dark green and white smear all around the outside, but it seemed more like a bad painting than real woods. Silver streams also fell on the suggestion of a forest, disappearing into the hazy trees. Fifty or so birds perched on the edges of the castle’s walls and chimneys, including a flock of seagulls and one gigantic brown pelican. All of them seemed to be watching her and the laird with unnerving interest. Ava saw no town, ocean or world beyond that, just the curving green sky, as if the entire place had been stuck inside a colossal green Christmas ball ornament.
All of Monterey, which she should have been able to see from here, had vanished. So had the rest of the planet.
Ava’s skin juddered with nerves at being in a place so alien. Everything around her seemed to crowd her vision, as if fighting for her attention. She would blink and the colors of the place became too vivid, almost cartoonish; another blink and they grew sumptuous, as if they had been invented here by some rainbow-smashing wizard. Seeing a green sky where there should have been blue was wrong, and yet it looked right.
“’Tis easier if you calm your breathing,” Tasgall murmured.
She breathed slower, counting each inhalation through her nose and holding it before releasing it from her mouth. She knew now the only logical explanation for this place and what had happened to her was what Tasgall had offered. This spell trap had been created to imprison these people in their own castle, and make them live out the same year forever. She couldn’t imagine what kind of power it had taken to cast such a curse. Nor did she have any ideas on how to break out of it.
Since screaming her head off wouldn’t change anything, she glanced at the laird. “The first time you saw it, what did you think?”
“I reckoned I’d gone mad. Never had my eyes beheld such. Light, but no sun. Water pouring in streams from clouds. A forest that ’twas and yet ’twasnae real. I stood looking until nightfall, when no moon rose, and no stars appeared, yet scant light from them fell over all I could see.” He bent down and picked up a tiny, fuzzy creature that wriggled happily on his gloved palm. “In that first year the animals began to come to us, and that ’twas how we learned of the nature of time here.”
“What is that bitty thing?” Ava had never seen anything like it.
“A sea otter.” To the little creature he said, “Your dam shall nip you for escaping your nest again, lad.”
The baby otter sat on its haunches and chirped back at him as if it were a bird.
Following Tasgall was like walking through someone else’s dream, even when they passed through an open gate in the inner wall and stopped at one of the sky waterfall pools, where the laird carefully placed the baby otter on the ice-hemmed edge. A much larger version jumped out of the water and seized the now-squeaking baby before waddling off with it toward the hollow end of a tree that had been left by the water.
Suddenly she understood all the different types of birds, as well as the presence of otters local to Monterey. “These animals all wandered in here like I did, from the outside.”
“Aye. ’Twas they that taught us naught living may grow older or die here, nor leave once they cross through the passage.” He gestured toward the hollow-ended log. “The dam came inside the trap two centuries past, and we found her already breeding. Since no living thing may bear bairns in the trap, we imagined she’d lose her brood. Instead, she delivered her pups sevenday later, but from that moment they didnae grow larger. Nor shall they ever.”
“So if you want children, you have to bring them in with you.” The implications of what that meant for the infants made her sick. “Have any pregnant women ever come in here, sir?”
“No’ as yet, thank the Gods.” He smiled at the look she gave him. “You’re no’ a believer, then?”
“I’m not a disbeliever.” Since her parents had cursed God throughout Ava’s childhood, she’d wondered if an almighty being would even want her to worship him. “I guess you could say I’m undecided.”
“My own lady màthair taught me my faith. She belonged to a tribe of druids that had long ago retreated to the highlands so they might hide from Roman invaders.” He glanced at two men dressed in all brown that carried huge baskets of eggs into the stronghold.
Both, Ava noticed, were bickering in low voices, but fell silent and touched their brows when they saw Tasgall.
“What plagues me is how our vassals suffer,” the laird said after he nodded to the men. “Most like those two left behind bairns and wives in their village, where their families lived outside the stronghold.”
That reminded her that she’d yet to meet any of the clan’s wives, but she expected she would in short order. “What have you tried to do to end this curse, sir?”
“Every notion my men and I’ve possessed, as well as those our vassals have offered, and what the outsiders caught by the trap wished me try,” he said, his expression darkening. “The enchantment instantly returns anyone who leaves by the gate, by hurling themselves over the outer wall, or even by digging through the earth. Messages tossed over the wall receive no answer. Ben built what he called a glider last year so he might try to fly out, but as soon as he launched the contraption from the watch tower it returned and crashed. The spell keeping us here, ’tis unbreakable.”
That was the other thing that she couldn’t work out. “Why would Laird MacBren’s daughter put a curse on you that lets all you all live forever and gives you unlimited food and supplies? How is that any kind of justice for her folks?”
“’Tisnae,” he said, and hesitated a long moment before he added, “I dinnae believe Torra the one that cursed us. This seems the work of another with a peculiar grudge against the clan. One who wishes to imprison and torment us for eternity.”
The sorrow in his voice made her almost reach out to touch him. Yet he was a stranger, and she had no way of knowing if he was telling the truth—yet.
“As a law enforcement agent, I can tell you that no prison can be made one hundred percent escape-proof. While I don’t know anything about magic or curses, it seems they’re about power. All power has its own limits and rules.” She gestured around them. “If people and critters can come into this place, sir, then I’m sure there’s a way out.”
He looked as if he wanted to believe her, but he had been trapped here too long to do that. “What would you do, then, Agent Travars, to discover such?”
“My job, Mr. McKeran. Allow me to investigate, gather facts and build some theories, as those are my areas of expertise.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “And who knows? Maybe a fresh look at this problem can turn up the solution.”
“I shall do so, Agent Travars, under two conditions,” he said. “The first is that you share all you find and learn with me alone, so I may first judge if ’tis suitable for others to hear. My people, they’ve suffered many disappointments, and they dinnae need more.”
“That sounds like a very good idea, Laird.” She knew he was likely worried about panicking his people as well. “I don’t want to create any false hopes. What’s your other condition?”
“We shall spend much time in each other’s company, so I’d ask you call me by my given name.” His eyes shifted away from her gaze as if he had suddenly gone shy.
That tickled her, but she didn’t laugh at him. “Only if you’ll do the same, Tasgall.”
A lec paced across the battlements a hundred times as he watched the laird and the newcomer walking through the gardens. He’d never known Tasgall to show such interest in an outsider. This one seemed to possess the sort of composure that indicated a serene nature—something the laird favored in females—but that would not be enough to snare his attention. He wondered how Ava Travars would react when she learned of their vassal’s annual binding ceremony, and how many females opted instead to share nights of pleasure with the clan. As with other females, he felt not the slightest temptation to get close to the outsider, but to protect the laird he could certainly lure her to his bed.
Did Tasgall need protection from Ava Travars?
“You look as if you’ve swallowed a bug,” a gravelly voice said.
Darro came to join him and ignored the way he glared at him in return. Alec never liked anyone who made him seem skinnier and weaker than he was, but Darro had never taunted him about their differences. The chieftain had a towering, sizeable build, and as the second-largest man in the clan he might have followed in Keran’s stead and become a brawler. Instead he emulated his mortal màthair’s placid nature, and served as the clan’s peacemaker. Yet Alec could sense something more simmering under his tranquil mask.
If anyone harmed the laird, to whom the chieftain remained ever devoted, he might show his true self.
“Do you naught but tag-tail after me?” he complained.
“When you act the over-eager pup, aye, ’tis my duty.” Darro bumped his shoulder against his. “Brace yourself. The moment a newcomer wench looks at your pretty eyes, she all but hikes up her skirts. This one looks strong, too.”
“I dinnae want Ava Travars.” He saw the chieftain’s lips curl and made a rude sound at him. “Aye, right, fine, she’s a beauty. I reckon she’ll dance in the dreams of every one of our brothers. You ken I never trifle with females, and I’ll no’ start with her.”
“I ken ’tis time you reconsidered your monkish ways,” the chieftain chided.
“What I need, Brother, is to interrogate her about what she may ken of the trap before sunset, but Tasgall shallnae permit such.” He uttered a contemptuous sound. “Indeed, now he prances with her through the weeds, doubtless cajoling her into his bed. He acts the lad instead of the laird, all for this dark-haired wench–”
“Eejit.” Darro cuffed the back of his head with one ham-sized hand. “Name a time the laird placed his wonts above ours. Any time.”
Alec kept himself from pitching forward without thinking; after long years of practice on his grandsire’s farm he knew how to absorb a blow. The chieftain’s seemed more like a caress than a clout as well. Yet old resentment welled up inside him, hot as freshly-spilled blood. The next thing he knew he’d lunged at Darro and knocked him to the stone platform around the tower walls. The chieftain made only a half-hearted attempt to shield himself from Alec’s fists, and all the time he was punching him watched with pity in his eyes.
“At least pretend I hurt you next time, you great lumbering bastart.” Alec rolled off him and reached down to pull him up as he stood. “Gods, I could even take a blade to you and you’d no’ blink.”
“We’re not your enemies, Brother. I live for the day you remember such from waking to sleeping.” Darro wiped some blood from his lip before he slung an arm around his neck. “I shall weep the next time we tussle, aye? Farlan claims I do so very prettily. Now come. We’ve the morning gathering to attend.”
Alec walked back into the stronghold with the chieftain, and accompanied him to the war room, where they met with the other senior men of the clan. Today he had to begin preparations for the restart of the yearly cycle of events that had resulted in the curse that had thrust them and Dun Talamh into this eternal trap.
“Report,” he said to the chief of the watch, who dutifully recited what his men had noted from their positions around the castle, which seldom varied. He then regarded the clan’s beast master. “Any strays come from the outside?”
“No’ today, War Master, although I’ve a report of a butterfly in the gardens.” As the other men laughed, the beast master scowled. “Och, I agree, ’tis likely nonsense. I but report what I’m told. One of the kitchen lads swore he saw the thing flutter by him.”
“Likely ’twas spray from the skyfalls,” Darro said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
“We’ve only a short time before the MacBren and his lady call on the laird,” Alec said, sobering everyone. “Chieftains, double your guards and watchers until the bastart arrives. Be sure to keep a horn in all the towers so we may warn the women. Chieftains, check the locks on the safe rooms and see that you’ve a guard with every group going into hiding.” He took down a scroll map of the stronghold and rolled it out onto the table. “The MacBren shall walk through the side entry, make his way to the second level and in the laird’s chamber confront Tasgall. I want armed men at the corner of every hall he passes, as well as all the arches on the first level. That’s all for today.”
“He never strays beyond the path he takes each time, War Master,” one of the men pointed out. “What use ’tis putting more men where he shallnae go?”
“The one time we dinnae, lad, the MacBren may do so,” he countered. “His men, they’ve strayed in the past as well. All but three go into the gardens, remember.”
The men grumbled, but all nodded before they left. Darro lingered, watching him as he rolled up the map and put it back on the shelf.
“What gnaws at your arse, Brother?” the chieftain asked.
“What doesnae?” He saw the other man’s expression and knew he wanted only to aid him with his troubles. “The binding ceremony looms, as does the first visit by the MacBren, when we may lose three gardeners and a stable lad. Two came to me and asked I slay them before the villains could.” He saw he wasn’t convincing Darro, so he told him the rest. “We’ve a female who carries weapons in the keepe. We ken naught of her, and yet our lord treats her like a visiting princess.”
“Tasgall’s had no one a long time now,” the chieftain said, looking all at once weary. “If he desires this lady, dinnae interfere.”
“Once I ken she’s to be trusted, I shallnae.” It was the best he could vow. “’Tis another matter you need attend, Darro. Rory’s locking himself away and working too much again. I reckon he’s stopped sleeping.”
The chieftain’s brows drew together. “How can you guess he doesnae sleep?”
“My chamber, ’tis beside his, and he comes at night to bathe and change before he leaves again,” Alec told him. “’Tis no spot large enough for a bed in the armory or the forge, and you ken he’s no’ taken to sharing the bed of a willing maid.”
“Do none of us escape your watch?” Darro chided, but his expression remained serious. “I’ll see what our youngest brother does after the rest of us sleep.”
I t took most of the day for Ava to see the rest of Dun Talamh and the spell trap, which Tasgall personally showed her. Enjoying a simple but tasty meal of stew, oat bread and sliced pears with the laird that evening also gave Ava a chance to see more of the McKeran Clan. There certainly were plenty of them, too. The laird and a dozen other men shared a table with her on the elevated platform, while more than a hundred others gathered around long wooden tables. Maids carried in platters of food and large jugs of water and what appeared to be cider, but Ava saw no other women. Farlan circled the hall to speak with several men while keeping an eye on the food and sending the maids for more as the platters emptied. Once the men finished eating they left, while others came to take their places at the tables.
What would it be like to look after a small army of giant fellows? Ava wondered. Just keeping them fed would be a daily challenge.
Back in Texas she had gone to rodeos and car shows, and worked out with plenty of guys. She’d also gotten a membership at a gym favored by cops, firefighters, and fellow FBI agents, where three nights a week she weight-trained and ran thirty laps around a two-hundred-meter indoor track. Accustomed as she was to being around fit, ripped males, she still had never before seen so many big, burly, muscle-bound men gathered in one spot. What was even odder was that most of the men at the tables had features similar to Tasgall and his senior men, as if they were all related.
Maybe that’s a Scottish thing.
Ava decided to ask about their wives and children. As soon as she did, however, the other McKeran exchanged odd looks before standing and bowing to her, and then collectively leaving the great hall.
“Did I just stomp on some toes?” she asked the laird.
“No’ at all, Agent.” Clearly uncomfortable now, Tasgall rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “’Tis a matter we’ve yet to discuss, and ’tis likely when we do, you shallnae believe what I say. My men, they dinnae wish seeing you in hysterics, or what might come of such.”
“Oh, we call that throwing a hissy fit. I don’t have them.” Being treated for once like an overly emotional female amused her. “So this matter, I expect it’s pretty shocking?”
The laird nodded. “Sometimes ’twill make a newcomer boak. Ah, puke.”
“That explains them running off, then. Let’s see, now, I’ll guess you want to tell me that all you all don’t have any children or wives,” she guessed, and the laird’s astonished look gave her confirmation. “Are you some kind of Fae like your father, then?”
“Half-Fae.” He watched her face closely as he added, “Our sire, Keran, served the Fae king as a hunter-warrior. He possessed pure Fae blood and sired me and all the men of the clan while in the mortal realm.”
“Whoa, now.” The crust of bread she was picking out fell from her fingers. “You’re telling me all seven hundred McKeran men are your brothers? That can’t be. No human lady could live so long to birth that many boys. Or was there some magic involved?”
“We share the same sire, but different màthairs . Tuirne, my lady màthair , bore Darro as well as me, so he’s my only full blood brother. The remainder of the clan are my half-brothers.” He refilled her cup with brew. “How did you fathom so much?”
“For one thing, all the McKerans look like each other. You don’t have near as many ladies here as you do gentlemen. The rest was just me being a good guesser.” Taking a sip of the spicy brew, she sat back and warmed her hands against the side of the mug. “Your dad didn’t stick around to raise you, did he?”
“Keran loved brawling, drinking, and wenching,” Tasgall admitted. “Beyond that, he dealt with hunting and capturing rogue Fae wanted by his King. He abandoned me and my brother along with our màthair . ’Twas Darro and I who sought out our half-brothers, thanks to Tuirne.”
He told her about his druidess mother, who had found Keran unconscious and badly wounded in a forest. Because he was too large for her to carry back to her settlement, she treated his wounds and built a shelter around him to protect him until he recovered enough to walk. She’d even slept with him to keep him warm during the cold nights.
“Your mama sure was nice to do that.” Ava smiled. “Your dad must have fallen for her the minute he woke up.”
“He thought her the dark Fae he’d been hunting and clouted her,” the laird said wryly. “’Twas fortunate that Tuirne had shielded herself with a spell to ward off his blow, or Darro and I wouldnae exist. Once she convinced my sire that she wasnae the shape shifter he’d been sent to dispatch, he permitted her lead him to her settlement. There Keran spent a moon healing. By the time he left he’d got Tuirne with me.”
Tasgall explained the difficult relationship between his parents, as Tuirne’s tribe didn’t care for his Fae father. Keran, who served the Fae king as a kind of bounty hunter for rogue Fae, had no intention of settling down with a mortal female, either. Because the laird’s mother hadn’t tried to force his father to stay with her, he did return to visit many times. By the time his sons had reached manhood Keran had died in a terrible battle with a storm demon bent on destroying the north of Scotland.
Tasgall didn’t show any indication that it bothered him to talk about his father, but Ava saw something unhappy in his eyes. “You got along with your dad?”
The laird spread his hands. “As much as anyone in the mortal realm. He could be hard, demanding, and he terrified many mortals with his impatience. When out drinking, he never could keep from a brawl or the arms of a willing lady. ’Tis said pure blood Fae dinnae care for halflings like us, and often slay our kind. Yet Keran treated us and our màthair with deep and abiding affection.”
“You’re lucky, then,” she murmured, thinking of her own parents.
“Indeed, for my sire taught me and Darro to track, hunt and fight. ’Twas his notion as well for us to protect each other against our mortal weaknesses.” He explained how half-Fae like the McKeran Clan all possessed some form of weakness due to their human mothers, and added, “Cold, ’tis drawn to me, and slows me until I cannae move. Fire, ’tis ever drawn to Darro, so he avoids the hearths.”
“That’s why you wrap up so well before you go outside.” She wondered if Darro had been among the other men eating in the hall, and what it was like to be a magnet for flames. “Maybe tomorrow you could introduce me to your brother.”
From the large hall Tasgall led her through passages and stairs until he stopped in front of a large door and opened it.
“Newcomers stay in this chamber until we find new rooms for them,” he said. “I’ll send a maid with hot water and some fresh garments. You’re also free to explore the castle as you wish.” He looked as if he wanted to linger, but then he bowed. “Sleep well, Ava.”
“Thank you, Tasgall.” She watched him go before she went inside. “I guess this place is so big no one can keep track of the rooms.” She stopped in front of a blazing stone fireplace and warmed her hands for a moment as she studied the interior.
The crudely made furniture she’d expected looked instead as if it had been made by a modern, expert carpenter with a talented wood sculptor doing the finishing work. The cabinet, bed, chairs, and table all had been fashioned from a dark blond wood that she guessed to be oak, and intricately carved with beautiful scrolls and flowers before being polished until the wood gleamed. Rugs woven from chunky strips of cream-colored wool covered big areas of the stone floors, and two brown, gold and gray plaids had been draped on a chair back and the bed’s footboard.
All the comforts of home, twelfth-century Scottish style.
Not everything appeared medieval, however. Someone had made a huge hand-stitched quilt out of ivory and crimson-dyed linen, with patchwork stars that seemed to blaze. That such a modern textile would look right at home in the ancient chamber bemused Ava as she went over to inspect it a little closer.
In one corner the maker had embroidered in red thread “With love for my daughter” and the initials IJ, which made a pang of envy shoot through her heart.
Ava’s own mother had never done anything like that for her, but when she was small her grandmother had let her have a shabby old blue quilt for her room. She’d made it out of scraps of colorful fabric, and stitched the patchwork into overlapping rings. She always wondered where the different pieces of the quilt had come from, and loved how warm it kept her even on the coldest winter nights. After her grandmother had died it had become even more precious to her.
Her mother had thrown away the quilt one day while Ava had been at school.
That nasty old thing is falling apart and takes six quarters to wash at the laundromat. Lisa Travars had blown a cloud of cigarette smoke in her face before she added, You get cold at night, you can just put on your damn sweater.
A knock came on the door, startling Ava, and a small, dark-skinned woman dressed like a maid came in with a big bundle in her arms.
“Forgive the intrusion, my lady,” the maid said with a distinctly Scottish accent, although not quite the same as the one Tasgall and his brothers had. “I’m Elspeth, the head chambermaid. The laird bid me bring you some clean garments to wear.”
“Come on in.” She followed her to the table where she put down the clothing and watched her unfold and carry it to the cabinet, which turned out to be a standing wardrobe. “What sort of clothes you got there?”
“Trews, tunics, leines—we sleep in these at night—slippers, panties and chemises.” As she spoke she held up the corresponding garment. “If you wish skirts or a gown I’ll go and fetch those, but our chatelaine said you might favor these instead.” She wrinkled her nose. “You should ken that our seamstress refuses to make any short skirts. She believes the sight of an ankle or knee can stir a man’s lust to torment.”
“Wouldn’t want to torment anyone, and I like trousers—trews—better anyway.” Ava picked up one pair and held them against her, surprised to see that they would probably fit her long legs. “How did you know what size to bring? Oh, the laird told you,” she guessed before the maid could reply.
Elspeth nodded. “Our lord possesses a sharp eye, my lady. Shall I fetch hot water so you may bathe? ’Tis a hip-bath over in the corner there.”
“If you’ll show me where the hot water is, I’ll fetch it myself.” She didn’t want anyone waiting on her.
“’Tis just down the passage.” The maid picked up two large buckets tucked into the bottom of the cabinet and handed her one. “This way, my lady.”
Outside Ava saw a couple of scruffy-looking young men loitering outside her room, at whom Elspeth scowled. They hurried off, casting several looks back before they disappeared around a corner.
“The stable boys grow too bold,” the maid said, sounding disgusted. With an apologetic look she added, “You’re the first outsider to arrive in a long time. Doubtless all the eejits shall try and sneak looks at you.”
Ava accompanied her to the other end of the hall, where Elspeth stopped in front of a panel that had been set into the stone wall, and tugged on the ring in the center, pulling it down like a trap door. Behind it a wide, vertical stone pipe with beads of condensation stood, fitted with a levered metal spigot and a hook beneath it. The maid placed the handle of her bucket on the hook before she turned the lever, and steaming water gushed out.
“’Twas Ben Miller’s notion to place water pipes in the walls, and manage the means to heat them,” Elspeth said. “He’s so clever. I only wish he could show the other maids ’tisnae a ghost wandering the passages.”
That seemed unlikely. “Have they described this ghost?”
“Everyone agrees ’tis an apparition dressed all in black with a hood over her head,” the maid said. “They claim she’s a ghost for her skirts dinnae move as she floats along.”
Her disgust was so plain Ava had to hide a smile. “Why don’t you believe them?”
“I’m no’ ignorant like those silly wenches.” She glanced at her. “You’ve wondered about me, aye? Everyone does, for I’m the only dark-skinned lass at Dun Talamh. Only I’m as Scottish as the McKeran, I vow.”
“I thought you might be an outsider like me.” The note of sadness in the maid’s voice told her it was an unhappy topic for the girl. “You don’t have to talk about anything if it upsets you.”
“’Tis only that I cannae go back.” The maid grimaced. “I came into the spell trap some centuries after the curse on the clan. It happened that my sire and màthair escaped slavery in the south. They came to the highlands, where I was then born, and left me with some crofters while they went and begged the magistrate to free them. ’Twas the only way for slaves to seek aid in those days.” Elspeth sighed. “Only their old master lay in wait and caught them. The crofters told me later that my màthair lied and claimed I’d been born dead, so the master wouldnae search for me. When I grew older ever I hoped they’d return to look for me.”
The tragedy she’d suffered seemed particularly cruel, given how she and her family had risked so much to seek their freedom. “How did you end up coming into the castle?”
“I loved the old ruin,” the maid said, and touched one wall with an affectionate hand. “’Twas my palace, you see, for I reckoned myself a princess, and had grand adventures here. ’Twas when my fostering family said they’d marry me off to a swine herd that I ran to the castle to hide. I thought here they’d never find me—and so they never did.” She took down the brimming bucket and replaced it with the one Ava handed her. “What of your kin, my lady?”
“My folks died when I was about your age.” She thought of her parents’ faces, and the few photos she’d had that showed how they’d looked before drinking had ruined them. “I don’t have anyone else.”
Elspeth gave her a sympathetic smile. “Then shall I be your friend, Lady Ava, and help with whatever you may need?”
“That would be nice, long as you call me just plain Ava.” She thought of something she needed. “Would you happen to have some brown thread? I only need a little bit.”