Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sorcha walked beside Flora to the Great Hall in silence, but her mind was anything but. Her fingers tightened around the small carving in her palm, the wooden edges pressing faintly into her skin.
“Ye shouldnae take his absence to heart. Maybe somethin’ important came up,” Flora said gently, offering a small, knowing smile.
Sorcha huffed in disagreement, shaking her head.
I ken where I stand.
She barely kept herself from voicing that thought, exhaustion overtaking her senses.
She had not slept at all last night. Every small sound in the dark had pulled her upright, her breath catching at shadows that never became him. It was only when the morning light crept in through her window that she fully accepted Rowan was not coming for her.
Heat surged through her chest, sharp and searing.
If he thinks to toy with me—
“Are ye goin to say anythin’ to him?” Flora’s voice interrupted her thoughts, warm against her cold fury.
Sorcha had played many scenarios in her head. Most of them included her yelling at Rowan, her heart laid bare. But she knew that was impossible, even if he deserved it.
“I daenae ken,” she replied honestly. “But I cannae say nothin’.”
“Aye,” Flora agreed with a sigh. “I wonder what is wrong with him.”
Sorcha had many answers to that question, but before she could speak, the doors to the Great Hall came into view. Warmth spread through her body, her pulse quickening.
All morning, she had been prepared to face him. To question him. And yet as she drew nearer, she found that all the words she had rehearsed were slipping away.
The doors opened, and her heart leaped. But instead of Rowan’s brooding gaze, she was met with a cheerful smile.
“Lady Sorcha! Flora! Good mornin’!” Elspeth greeted them as they entered. Morag greeted them as well, bowing her head slightly.
They were seated at one side of a long table, with an empty chair at the end of it where Rowan should have been. A heaviness settled in Sorcha’s gut as she approached and took a seat across from them.
Why am I disappointed?
Flora gave her a sympathetic smile before turning to Elspeth and bobbing a curtsy. “Good mornin’, Lady Elspeth. Morag.” She took a step back, bowing to Sorcha. “I have to attend to a few things, me Lady, but I will come find ye in the afternoon.”
Sorcha nodded absently as Flora stepped away, her attention already drawn to Elspeth, who was feeding Mr. Turtle a leafy vegetable.
“Good mornin’,” she greeted, “It seems Mr. Turtle is enjoyin’ his breakfast.”
“He was hungry!” Elspeth said, tilting her head and smiling at the turtle. The sunlight streaming in through the high windows caught the soft gleam in her eyes.
Sorcha could not help smiling as well; Elspeth’s brightness easily overtook the darkness in her heart.
She flexed her fingers around the carved piece in her palm. “I have somethin’ for ye.”
Elspeth’s eyes snapped to her, widening slightly. “For me?”
Sorcha held out her hand, uncurling it slowly. The small wooden turtle she had finished carving last night rested there. Its shape was simple but carefully made with a thin piece of cord running through it. The grain of the wood was warm under the glow of the morning light.
“I thought perhaps Mr. Turtle might like a friend.”
Elspeth gasped, both hands flying to her mouth before she grabbed it eagerly. “It’s him! It looks just like him!”
Morag leaned in with squinted eyes, nodding with approval. “Aye, that’s pretty good.”
Sorcha felt herself blush slightly as she gave a nervous laugh. “I’m glad ye like it. Ye can wear it as a necklace, ye ken!”
“I can?” Elspeth asked excitedly.
Morag gently took both ends of the cord and secured it around Elspeth’s neck.
“There ye go,” she said, tapping the small carving. “Now, what do ye say?”
Elspeth looked at it in awe, turning it in her small fingers. “I do love it, truly! Thank ye very much, Lady Sorcha.”
Sorcha stared at the carving. The warmth she had felt moments ago melted into melancholy. She could not put Rowan out of her mind, not even for a second, burying any happiness that tried to blossom.
“I want to show Mr. Turtle’s family me new necklace! Come on, Mr. Turtle!” Elspeth reached for her turtle.
Morag stopped her. “Nay, me Lady. Ye havenae even finished yer food yet!”
Sorcha looked down at the food on the table. There was bread and an assortment of cheeses that otherwise would have looked appetizing if not for her mood. But Morag’s tone made her scoop a helping anyway.
“But he waited all night! It’s been too long,” Elspeth whined.
Her words hit harder than they should have.
Sorcha’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table. She’d done the same. Waited all night in the dark for footsteps that had never come.
“Turtles arenae rushin’ anywhere. That isnae what turtles do,” she said matter-of-factly as Elspeth pouted.
“Ye ken, Lady Elspeth,” Morag added, gently taking the carving between her fingers. “Ye can learn a thing or two from turtles.”
Elspeth tilted her head. “Like how to swim?”
A small laugh escaped Sorcha before she could stop it. Morag’s mouth twitched.
“Like takin’ yer time,” Sorcha corrected. “Ye’ll never see one rush headlong into trouble. They move slowly, but they get to where they’re going all the same.”
Elspeth shifted on the bench, frowning. “But if I didnae help Mr. Turtle, he’d take forever to get to the pond. He’s so slow!”
“Aye,” Morag agreed. “Slow keeps them safe. A fast creature can lose its way easily. A slow one chooses every step.”
Sorcha tried to keep up with the conversation, but her mind drifted elsewhere, mulling over Morag’s words.
Safe. Was that what I’d been doing all these years?
Moving Carefully. Speaking carefully. Waiting where she was placed, trusting that stillness would protect her from harm. And yet here she was, waiting again.
Waitin’ has never saved me from anythin’.
Her gaze dropped briefly to the wooden turtle resting against Elspeth’s chest. She had spent many careful hours carving it, each small stroke of her knife deliberate. Patient.
But there is wisdom in patience.
“Patience is strength,” Sorcha said.
“Is it?” Elspeth asked.
“Aye,” Sorcha replied, forcing a small smile. “It means ye can wait without fear. It means ye trust where yer path is takin’ ye.”
Even as she spoke, something twisted in her chest.
Do I?
Her thoughts drifted back to last night. How she had waited all night for a man who could somehow make her excited at the prospect of him coming and at the same time make her feel foolish.
Patience has always been me shield. Now it feels like a cage.
She straightened slightly, pushing the thought away before it could take hold.
Elspeth seemed to consider this carefully as she watched Mr. Turtle continue to eat. “I think Mr. Turtle is very strong then,” she said finally.
Sorcha let out a quiet breath, something easing in her chest. “Aye, I think he is.” Her eyes flicked to Rowan’s empty chair, a question slipping past her lips before she could stop it. “Morag, have ye seen Laird MacLaren this mornin’?”
“Nay.” Morag eyed her knowingly.
Sorcha wondered if she knew about last night. Knowing Morag, she probably did.
Elspeth chimed in, humming as she pet Mr. Turtle, as if used to not seeing her father at mealtimes. “I havenae either.”
Sorcha nodded slowly, her eyes lingering on the empty chair.
This time, she did not feel anything. The empty chair no longer taunted her with possibilities.
Turtles chose every step. Perhaps it was time she did the same.