Chapter 15
Hamish led the way. He seemed to know where he was going. He and Alaina fled before the rest of them like ghosts, weaving through the dark forest path.
Megan had been right about them knowing a way out of the Keep. There was a narrow doorway set deep in the walls, half choked by ivy and weeds. Alaina had produced a key and carefully locked the door after them.
Safety first, I suppose, Megan thought miserably. Stephen had fetched her a horse and had apparently chosen the oldest, laziest mare in the stables. The youths easily outpaced her on their larger, more energetic horses.
That was fair enough. Megan knew she wasn’t exactly welcome.
They rode for about ten minutes, following a wide, well-trodden path through the forest. Then they slowed to a trot, approaching the high walls of a village. She spurred her horse forward, walking alongside Hamish and Alaina.
“What is this place?”
“It’s called Foxglove Hill,” Hamish explained. “It’s the closest town to the Keep, so we do a lot of trade with them. They have regular festivals like this, and they’re so much fun. I promised I’d take Alaina.”
“There’ll be food, and entertainment, and dancin’. It goes on till dawn, but I’ll make extra sure that I get back on time,” Alaina added, eyeing Megan worriedly. “There’s nothin’ to fret over.”
“I’m nae frettin’,” Megan responded. “But if Ryder finds out we’re gone, there’ll be reason enough to fret.”
Alaina sniffed. “Well, he willnae. I’ve done this before, and he doesnae ken.”
That was an interesting piece of information. Megan tucked it away in her head to investigate further. For now, she had other things to think about.
They approached the village, which was bustling with light and sound. Laughter and conversation drifted out of the gates, along with strains of music.
The horses slowed to a trot, then to a walk. They all dismounted as they reached the entrance. A couple of yawning guards stood at the gateway, wearing MacCulloch tartan. Alaina hurried over to stand by Megan.
“They willnae recognize us,” she whispered. “They never do. I daenae believe they have the faintest idea of who we are without Ryder standin’ beside us. People only ever look at the Laird.”
They passed through the gates. There was a place to tie up their horses, with food and hay available, so they did just that. A wide, hard-packed dirt road led into the village square, which was full of people.
Braziers burned on every corner. Candles and lanterns hung everywhere, and a huge bonfire burned right in the middle of the square.
There were stalls selling food and drink—cider, mulled wine, ale, cakes, porridge, sugared fruit, and more.
One stall sold pieces of roast meat, and people handed over money for a dripping chicken leg or a piece of pork, soaked in gravy and wrapped in a slice of bread.
The smell of food filled the air, making Megan’s stomach rumble.
Other stalls sold trinkets. There was jewelry carefully fashioned from wood, bone, and twine, occasionally with a piece of polished glass. One stall sold nothing but hagstones, polished and hung on various necklaces—strips of ribbon, plain twine or rope, and even what looked like a silver chain.
“There’ll be a sword dance later,” Hamish interjected, “and other dances. Jigs and whatnot. Do ye like to dance, Lady Megan?”
“I suppose so,” she managed, offering him a faint smile. It still felt odd to hear herself called “Lady” anything.
After a few moments, it was clear that Alaina was right.
Nobody had looked at them twice. The square was packed with people of all ages, clustering around the storytellers and poring over the hagstones for sale.
The other girls and Stephen hurried off toward a stall selling cake, leaving Alaina, Hamish, and Megan alone.
“Go on, get some cake,” Alaina said to him with an encouraging smile. “Ye must be starved.”
He gave her a wry smile and hurried off toward her friends. Alaina watched him go, then turned on Megan.
“Me braither hired ye, did he nae?” she said flatly. “Ye are just another guard.”
Megan had not been expecting this. She floundered for words, stuttering, until Alaina rolled her eyes.
“Daenae worry, I am nae upset,” she muttered. “I should have kent it was all too good to be true. What am I meant to think when ye carry a bow and arrow around with ye?”
Megan flushed, reaching up to touch the bow hooked over her shoulder.
“Well, maybe I thought there would be an archery competition.”
Alaina snorted, shaking her head. “Ye are a bad liar.”
Megan bit her lip, glancing away. “I cannae answer yer question, lass. I’m sorry. Nae without getting’ ye and meself into trouble.”
Alaina stared at her for a long moment before nodding faintly.
“I understand. For what it’s worth, Megan, I like ye. I like ye very much. Have ye a penny?”
“What?” Megan managed, a little taken aback by the change of subject. “What do ye need a penny for?”
“That stall,” Alaina explained, pointing. “It sells black buns. I adore black buns, but I havenae got a penny.”
“Oh, I see,” Megan fumbled in her pocket and came up with a penny. “Will this get a bun?”
“It’ll get us two,” Alaina answered, grinning.
She snatched the coin and hurried over to the stall.
Megan followed her and watched as Alaina chattered and laughed with the old woman behind the stall.
Two black buns were handed over. Alaina dug in with relish, and Megan eyed the treat.
It looked like a fruitcake—heavy and fragrant—wrapped up in pastry.
It was warm, clearly freshly made, and she took a large bite.
“They’re delicious, eh?” Alaina asked, with her mouth full. “Me mother loved them. Ryder never has them served at feasts, as he hates fruit cakes.”
Megan paused, frowning. “What, even though he kens it is yer favorite?”
“To be fair, I daenae think he kens.”
“Well, ye should tell him. Look, ye told him that the guards made ye uncomfortable and followed ye too closely, and so he made changes. If ye would only talk to him, Alaina, ye might be surprised.”
Alaina stared at her for a long moment, her expression impassive. Then she shook her head, abruptly turning away.
“It’s only a cake,” she said quietly.
There wasn’t much talking after that. Megan thought of a hundred things she’d like to say, but the right time never seemed to present itself. So, to avoid saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, she stayed quiet and concentrated on eating her black bun.
They began to walk through the crowded square, idly taking in the sights. A man was juggling, throwing more and more small cloth balls into the air until there seemed to be dozens of them. A storyteller was standing on a box under a clump of trees, weaving a shocking tale to a group of children.
“I wonder if their parents know that they’re out,” Megan remarked, nodding at the children.
Alaina’s face darkened, and Megan knew that she’d said the wrong thing. It was too late now, of course. Best to go with it.
“Children need freedom,” Alaina stated. “If they daenae get any, they grow from children to adults very quickly without people noticin’. It’s like wearin’ a dress that’s too small for ye. After a while, it gets painful.”
“Och, Alaina, I’m sorry. I can see how difficult all of this is for ye. I hate to keep goin’ on and on about the same subject, but yer braither truly does want what’s best for ye.”
“I ken, I ken,” Alaina muttered, taking a vicious bite of her cake. “But he willnae listen to me, and so I daenae particularly want to listen to him. Fair’s fair.”
“Alaina…”
“Daenae ruin it,” she interrupted, shaking her head hard.
There was a frown between her eyebrows. “For what it’s worth, Megan, I like ye a lot.
When I thought that ye and Ryder really were betrothed, I was happy.
I want him to be happy, and I thought that the two of ye…
well, I thought ye would be a nice match.
I still do think that, even though ye will probably be leavin’ soon, and I’ll nae see ye again. ”
“Ye daenae ken that.”
“Well, unless ye are actually going to marry me braither, I do ken that,” Alaina retorted. “And Ryder is never goin’ to marry. Everyone thought it was so strange that he had changed his mind. I thought it was strange, and now I ken why. It really was too good to be true.”
They walked in silence for another minute or two and came to a stop before the wide dancing platform.
It was full of couples flinging each other around, laughing loudly, throwing up their arms, and kicking up their legs.
The musicians sat on upturned barrels at the side, faces flushed red with exertion.
Sweat was dripping off the fiddler’s nose. They were all smiling, though.
Megan let herself wonder, just for a moment, what it would be like to dance like that. So freely, so happily. She couldn’t imagine it.
“Why is Ryder so against marriage?” she asked at last. “Nobody has been able to tell me. I suppose that since I’m to be his betrothed, nobody is willin’ to tell me the truth.”
Alaina shot her a quick, thoughtful glance. She popped the last morsel of her black bun into her mouth and chewed luxuriously, dusting the crumbs off her hands.
“His maither died a war captive,” she said at last.
Megan flinched. “What?”
“Oh, aye. Terrible story, it was. She was abducted and later killed. Nobody talks to me much about it, but I can only imagine what she suffered. Honestly, I think I’m happy nae to ken.”
“How old was Ryder when this happened?”
“Eight.”
Megan swallowed hard and shuddered. At eight years old, her Ma had still been alive, caring for them all, a pillar of strength and wisdom. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose a parent in such an awful way.
“I cannae imagine what he endured,” she whispered.