Chapter 28
Their congratulations felt like a curse.
The words followed Sorcha through the garden paths. Everyone seemed so happy for her, especially the MacLean sisters.
They walked on either side of her, their voices bright, gesturing with their hands animatedly. They talked nonstop about a future that sounded nothing like the one she had dreamed of.
“A pretty cottage by the river would suit ye,” Avery said cheerfully, waving her hand as if the house already stood there. “Somethin’ with plenty of light and ample space. Ye’ve always liked open windows.”
Rhea scoffed, bumping her sister’s shoulder. “Light? Nay. She needs somethin’ dramatic. High ceilings, a view of the hills. If she’s to live free, it should feel like freedom.”
“Aye, and who’s payin’ for that?” Avery shot back, laughing. “Ye think freedom comes wrapped in silk?”
Rhea grinned. “If it doesnae, we’ll wrap it ourselves.”
Their laughter rang out, carefree and warm.
They argued the way sisters did when happiness made them reckless—over curtains, gardens, and whether Sorcha should keep a horse or two.
They teased each other about who would visit her most often, who would cry first when she left Dunrath Castle, and who would steal her away for visits she never asked for.
Sorcha heard nothing and everything. Her mind was still on the Great Hall. Still on the moment when William had reshaped her world with a few calm words.
Three days. Freedom. Leave the castle.
Her fingers tightened around her fan. And then, as though tired of holding herself together for so long, a sigh slipped past her lips. It was soft, broken. It shook through her, such that her fan slid from her grasp, hitting the ground softly.
The sisters skidded to a halt.
Avery turned first, her smile fading just enough to show concern. “Sorcha?”
Rhea’s expression softened. “Ye’ve gone quiet.”
Sorcha bent to pick up the fan. She smoothened her fingers over its painted surface, as if the motion could slow her thoughts. Then she lifted her head and offered them a smile she had perfected long ago, one that hid more than it revealed.
Avery stepped closer, clearly reading through it. She wrapped her arms around Sorcha, squeezing her tight. “Ye must be feelin’ everything at once,” she said gently. “Sad to leave us, but happy too, aye? Free, at last.”
The word free struck her again.
A dry laugh escaped Sorcha’s lips. Then she briefly rested her forehead against Avery’s shoulder. “Aye,” she murmured. “Something like that.”
It was a lie. A careful one.
She pulled back, fanning herself lightly. “I’ll manage,” she added, straightening her shoulders. “I always do.”
They resumed walking, their pace slower now. The gardens surrounding them were in full bloom. Roses adorned the stone walls, and bees hovered lazily near the lavender bushes.
Rhea gestured around them. “Take it all in,” she urged. “Best to do it while ye still can. Dunrath looks bonnier when ye ken ye’ll miss it.”
Sorcha nodded, though her heart was still heavy.
When they reached the bend where the path split, Rhea leaned closer, her eyes shining. “So, how soon?” she asked, her voice barely containing her excitement.
Sorcha stopped walking. She stared ahead for a long moment. A resolve close to rebellion welled within her. She couldn’t leave just like that. She had never been that obedient.
“Nae yet,” she answered, eventually.
Both sisters blinked at her.
Avery frowned. “Nae yet?”
Rhea tilted her head. “But ye heard him. Ye’re leaving in three days.”
Sorcha drew in a steady breath.
I have to see him first.
The thought burned inside her, and her eyes glinted with determination.
“There’s one thing I still need to do before I leave,” she said.
The sisters exchanged a look, looking curious and a little wary.
“What thing?” Avery prompted.
Sorcha smiled faintly and fanned herself again. “It doesnae matter.”
The sisters clearly wanted to push, but something in her tone seemed to have stopped them.
Rhea shrugged lightly. “All right, then. But ye’ll tell us, aye?”
“Maybe,” Sorcha replied, smiling to mask the tension in her voice. “We’ll see.”
The day turned into night, and still, William avoided her with an exactitude that hurt more than open cruelty ever could
Socha had seen him once across the courtyard, but he had quickly turned his back to her. Another time, she had heard his voice in a distant corridor. Before she could even reach it, it was gone. By evening, the truth had settled heavily upon her.
He was doing it on purpose.
She stood before the mirror in her chamber, candlelight flickering softly against her reflection. She studied herself the way one does when searching for answers that never came easily.
Red hair, loose around her shoulders. Dark brown eyes that looked tired tonight. Pale skin, lips pressed together.
“What’s wrong with ye?” she whispered.
Her reflection did not answer.
She turned her face slightly, searching for flaws that might explain everything.
Am I so easy to discard?
The thought tasted bitter.
So simple to send away?
Her throat constricted.
Perhaps she had been foolish. Foolish to hope. Foolish to believe that one night could change everything. Yet, despite the ache in her chest, she knew she still deserved answers.
She straightened again. Her resolve strengthened. Whatever William was hiding, whatever fear or plan had driven him to this decision, she would not leave without hearing the truth from his lips.
She reached for a cloak and fastened it around her shoulders. Then she grabbed a torch and lit it.
With her heart pounding, she stepped into the corridor.
The path toward his study felt filled with memories she tried her best to push down. With her chin lifted, she started walking.
Whatever waited behind the door to his study, she would meet it head-on.
Perhaps it had been easier said than done. Because now that she was standing before his study, the torch trembled in her hand.
With a sigh, she stared at the heavy oak door that was the only barrier left between her and the truth. Just a little more courage, and she would get her answers.
She just needed one knock. One breath. One truth.
Still, her feet were rooted to the floor. The confidence she had so carefully gathered moments ago fractured without warning.
What am I even doing? What am I going to ask him?
Her heart pounded harder, not with courage, but with doubt.
This is what ye wanted, she told herself, panic creeping in. Ye wanted him to notice. Ye wanted him to look at ye, to feel something. Ye pushed, teased, tempted…
Her fingers curled tighter around the torch.
So why does it feel like this? Why does it hurt so much?
What were ye expecting him to say? That one night was love? That he would choose ye over everything else?
The thoughts rushed, wicked and relentless, chasing her impulsiveness.
Slowly, her shoulders sagged. Until the last bit of her confidence evaporated. She was left with one realization: she could not force him to love her.
With that, she turned away from the door and went back the way she had come.
Her steps were heavier this time, far less daring. Finally, she arrived at her chamber, slipped inside, and closed the door behind her.
The latch clicked softly. But the moment she sagged against the wood and released the breath she had been holding, she heard something else. It was a loud thud that shattered the silence in the room.
She gasped, her hands flying to her chest. Her heart leapt into her throat.
What was that?
The sound had come from inside her room. It was too close. Too sudden. And it was followed by a rush of cold air from the window.
Instantly, her eyes flicked to the wooden shutters. They were open wide. As if someone had just pushed them.
“Nay!” Her voice broke.
She rushed forward, her skirts tangling around her legs. Once she reached the window, she leaned out, panting. She looked down at the courtyard, her eyes narrowing. And that was when she spotted a figure.
Tall. Masculine. Dressed from head to toe in black. His cloak, his hat, all of it was swallowed by the dark. He moved swiftly, like a trained assassin, disappearing into the shadows before she could cry out.
Fear wrapped around her spine like ice. She bit back a scream, her whole body shaking as truth crashed down on her.
Someone had been here. In her room. At the exact moment she had stepped out into the corridor. The timing wasn’t a coincidence.
“Someone… someone is watching me,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling.
Who could it be? Why her?
What was she supposed to do now?
Morning dawned with its soft light, but it didn’t comfort her in the slightest.
She had not hesitated to inform Rhea and Avery of what had happened the previous night. Now, they were pacing through her chambers like self-appointed constables, pointing at windows, questioning servants, arguing over theories as though it were some grand puzzle.
“I’m tellin’ ye, it must be someone from the outside,” Rhea insisted, with her hands on her hips. “A servant would ken better than to climb like that.”
Avery shook her head. “Nay, that doesnae sit right. Why risk being caught? Someone inside the castle would’ve had easier access.”
“Unless they wanted to be noticed,” Rhea countered. “Send a message.”
Sorcha barely heard them. She sat on the bed, with her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. Their voices faded into the background as her thoughts spiralled.
An assassin.
It must be the same one who had attempted to kill William.Because there was no other way to explain it.
What if… what if I’m next?
The thought slipped from her lips before she could stop it.
The sisters froze.
Sorcha lifted her head, tears shimmering in her eyes. “What if I’m the next target?”
Rhea’s expression faltered. Color drained from Avery’s face. It was as though they were both imagining such horror.
The air thickened with fear.
“I need air,” Sorcha blurted, scrambling to her feet. “I-I cannae stay here.”
Before they could stop her, she bolted out of her room and hurried to the garden.
The morning sun was soft, the air cool. The atmosphere wasn’t harsh, so it was perfect for her to walk aimlessly with her racing heart.
She had never been this afraid.
Perhaps leaving the castle was a good thing, after all. Maybe William had been right, no matter how cruel it felt.
It’s better if I leave before he becomes the next target. Before I drag him into this.
Just then, a familiar soft voice broke through her thoughts.
“Will ye be fine?”
Sorcha turned around.
Avery stood a few steps away, her hands clasped before her, her expression calm. She looked every inch the elegant lady.
Sorcha tried to smile… and failed.
Avery approached her slowly. “With everything that’s happening… will ye truly be fine?”
Sorcha looked away, blinking rapidly. How was she going to answer that? She didn’t even know herself.
Avery let out a long sigh. “I’ve noticed, Sorcha. Ye arenae happy about leaving. Nae truly.”
Sorcha looked back at her, her face contorting with hurt.
“Why?” Avery asked gently. “Why does it feel like ye’re mourning instead of celebrating?”
The question was not supposed to break Sorcha, but it did. Her shoulders sagged miserably, everything happening around her becoming too much.
She exhaled shakily. “Because I once vowed never to marry again,” she said quietly. “Because of this same fear. The fear of an unknown curse… or an assassin.”
Avery did not interrupt. She only listened, her eyes filled with all the assurance Sorcha needed.
“And yet,” Sorcha continued, her voice trembling, “I love him.”
The confession slipped out in a shaky breath.
Avery blinked, inhaling slowly as she watched her. Still, she didn’t speak.
“I love William so deeply…” Sorcha’s eyes welled with tears. “I love him so deeply that if he ever asked… if he ever offered, I would accept without a second’s hesitation.”
She had not known how heavy, breathless, and vulnerable that confession would leave her. But she was glad she got it out, even if it was just before Avery.
Without saying a word, Avery stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. Though she said nothing, her touch conveyed more than a thousand words ever could.
She simply held her, patting her back gently as the confession settled between them.