Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The soft, steady rhythm of the mortar against stone filled the small healer’s chamber, grounding in its familiarity.
That same morning, Elaina leaned slightly over the worktable, her sleeves pushed up just enough to keep them from interfering, her fingers guiding the pestle with practiced ease.
The calming scent of crushed lavender and chamomile rose gently into the air, settling around her like a safety net.
For the first time since the morning, her thoughts quieted.
Across from her, Catriona sat with a small bundle of dried herbs spread before her, carefully separating stems from leaves with far more concentration than the task required.
“Ye’re being too gentle with it,” Elaina said without looking up, a faint hint of amusement threading through her voice.
Catriona glanced at her, feigning offense. “I am being precise.”
Elaina’s lips curved slightly. “Ye’re treating it as though it might feel pain.”
“Well,” Catriona replied, lifting a brow, “how am I tae ken it daesnae?”
That earned a soft huff of laughter from Elaina.
“It is a plant, Catriona.”
“Aye,” she said, completely unconvinced. “And yet, I suspect ye would defend it if I were too rough with it.”
Elaina shook her head lightly, though the warmth of the moment lingered.
“I would defend the remedy,” she corrected. “Nae the plant.”
“Mhm,” Catriona hummed, as though considering that. “I’m nae certain I believe ye.”
Elaina glanced up at her then, grey eyes meeting green.
“Ye will, once ye see the difference between a well-prepared remedy and one that has been handled… delicately.”
Catriona laughed softly, the sound filling the small space more easily than anything else had that day.
“Very well,” she conceded, though her hands still moved with the same exaggerated care. “I will trust yer expertise.”
“I should hope ye already dae,” Elaina said, returning her attention to the mortar.
“Of course I dae,” Catriona replied easily. “Else I wouldnae be sitting here pretending tae ken what I’m daein’.”
That drew another quiet smile from Elaina.
The simplicity of the work, the conversation and the absence of urgency felt almost unreal after everything that had happened.
The chaos of the market, the fear that had followed her, the weight of what she had nearly done that morning…
all of it seemed to soften here, if only a little.
“Pass me the yarrow,” Elaina said, extending her hand without looking.
Catriona placed it into her palm without hesitation.
“There,” she said. “See? I am useful.”
The two girls smiled at each other brightly, feeling comfortable in each other’s presence. As they continued working, silence settled around them gently, woven with the soft sounds of their work and the muted rustle of herbs.
“We should gather more of this before the season turns,” Catriona said lightly, lifting a small bundle between her fingers. “When we go next time, we’ll have tae venture further beyond the hills. There are patches there that have nae been touched yet.”
Elaina’s hand stilled, just briefly. She said nothing.
Catriona continued, unaware or perhaps simply unconcerned with the shift.
“And there is another village nae far from there,” she added, sorting another bundle. “I’ve heard they’ve had trouble finding someone tae tend tae their sick. We could go there first, when we start going out.”
When we.
The words settled quietly and naturally, as though they had always been meant to include her. Elaina forced her hands to move again, grinding the herbs with steady precision, though her thoughts had already begun to shift.
“We could take supplies with us,” Catriona went on, warming to the idea. “Nae just what we gather, but what we prepare here. It would be far more useful that way.”
She glanced up then, with a small, hopeful smile forming.
“It would be good, would it nae? Tae help beyond the castle as well?”
Elaina met her gaze. For a moment, she could not answer, because there was no hesitation in Catriona’s voice and no question whether Elaina would be there. Catriona had simply placed her in this future, without asking, as though Elaina belonged there.
She had not even realized how easily it had happened, how quietly she had been folded into that life, into these moments, into something that felt steady and real.
“Aye,” she replied tenderly. “It would be.”
Catriona’s smile widened, pleased. “I thought so.”
She returned to her work, content, her movements lighter now, as though the future she had just spoken of had already begun to take shape.
The steady rhythm she had kept without thought faltered, the pestle pressing more lightly against the herbs, but the motion was losing its certainty.
The scent of lavender still rose around her, familiar and calming, but it no longer reached her the same way.
Each word Catriona had spoken lingered in her mind, not as simple conversation, but as something that reached forward beyond that moment, beyond that day, into a future Elaina had never allowed herself to consider.
It was a future where she stayed, where she belonged, where she was not looking over her shoulder, not running and not preparing to leave before she had even begun to settle.
Her chest tightened. She wanted it. The realization came quietly, but it struck deeper than anything else had. She wanted it: the work, the purpose, the quiet, steady companionship and the warmth that had begun to feel like something she could trust.
She wanted him.
Her fingers tightened slightly. She could not have it. The thought followed just as quickly, just as firmly, because wanting it did not make it safe. It did not make it hers.
Her movements slowed further, until the sound of stone against stone faded almost entirely. Silence slipped into the space between them.
Catriona’s voice trailed off mid-sentence. Elaina had not even realized she had been speaking. It did not go unnoticed.
Catriona stilled, her hands resting lightly over the herbs she had been sorting. Her gaze lifted, focusing on Elaina with a quiet attentiveness that missed very little.
“Ye’ve gone quiet.”
Elaina blinked, as if pulled from somewhere distant.
“I am working,” she replied, though her voice lacked the ease it had held moments before.
Catriona’s brow lifted slightly.
“Aye,” she said softly. “But ye can speak while ye dae so.”
Elaina’s fingers resumed their motion.
“There is naething tae say.”
The answer came too quickly. Catriona watched her for a moment longer. And she did not look away.
“Is there something troubling ye?” she asked gently.
Elaina shook her head lightly, not meeting her gaze this time.
“Nay.”
The lie sat between them. Catriona did not challenge it outright. She did not press harder. But neither did she accept it. Instead, she leaned back slightly, her eyes never leaving Elaina’s face.
“Ye dinnae seem like someone who has naething tae say,” she murmured.
The words settled carefully. Elaina kept her gaze lowered, her fingers resting against the rim of the mortar as though she had simply paused in her work, nothing more.
“I am only tired,” she said after a moment. “There has been much happening of late.”
Catriona did not answer immediately. It was as if she took her time measuring each of Elaina’s responses with that quiet, searching attentiveness that made it difficult to hide behind simple words. Then, her following words caught Elaina off guard.
“Is that what is making ye contemplate leaving this place?”
The pestle slipped slightly in Elaina’s hand. The sound it made against the stone was sharp in the otherwise quiet room. She forced herself to continue the motion.
“I have given ye nay reason tae think that,” she replied, feeling horrible that she was lying to someone who had come to mean so much to her.
Catriona did not look away.
“Nae,” she said gently. “Ye havenae said it.” There was a small pause. “But ye feel like it.”
Elaina’s breath caught, though she kept her eyes fixed on her hands.
“There are many things I feel,” she said quietly. “That daesnae mean I act on them.”
Catriona tilted her head slightly, considering that.
“Aye,” she agreed. “But this daesnae feel like something ye’re merely thinking about.”
The words were not sharp, but they did not let go. Elaina’s grip tightened faintly, the herbs beneath her fingers beginning to crush more harshly than intended.
She forced herself to ease the pressure.
“I have naewhere else tae go,” she said, deflecting. “This is the safest place fer me.”
It was not untrue, but it was not the truth. And Catriona heard it.
“And yet,” she replied softly, “ye still look like someone who has already decided otherwise.”
Elaina closed her eyes briefly, steadying herself before opening them again. She did not look at Catriona, because she knew if she did, she might say more than she intended.
“Sometimes,” she told her in a voice that was even quieter now, stripped of its earlier certainty, “the right thing is nae the thing ye want.”
The words felt heavier spoken aloud. Catriona did not interrupt. She simply listened. Elaina exhaled softly, her hands falling still once more.
“I dinnae wish tae cause harm here,” she explained “Nae tae anyone.”
It was not a full confession, but it was enough. In fact, it was more than she had intended to give.
Catriona understood. It showed in the way her gaze softened further, in the way she did not press for details, did not ask for names or reasons or plans. She simply… saw.
Then, she reached for another bundle of herbs.
“I have learned,” she said gently, almost as if speaking to herself, “that the things which hurt the most are rarely the ones we can avoid.” Catriona did not look at her as she spoke. “But they are often the ones that matter most.”
The words lingered in the air, settling into the space between them without force and without demand.
Then, as though nothing had shifted at all, Catriona reached for the small kettle resting near the fire.
She poured hot water into two cups with practiced ease, the soft sound of it filling the silence that had grown more aware.
It was such a simple thing, so ordinary and yet, it felt different now.
Catriona set one of the cups beside Elaina without looking directly at her.
Then she returned to the herbs, picking up where she had left off, though her hands moved more thoughtfully than before.
The rhythm resumed, but the ease did not.
Elaina wrapped her fingers around the cup, the warmth seeping into her skin, grounding and unsettling all at once. She stared down at it, at the faint steam rising, as though it might give her something to hold onto.
Catriona worked in silence for a few moments more.
“I dinnae want ye tae leave, Elaina,” she heard her speak. “But if ye dae leave…”
Elaina’s breath stilled. Catriona did not stop what she was doing. She did not look at her.
“…ye’ll still have a place here.”
The words were soft and simple, but they carried more weight than anything else that had been said. Elaina’s fingers tightened slightly around the cup.
A place.
It was not obligation, not duty and not something to be earned or proven. It was something given freely. Her throat tightened. She did not trust herself to speak.
Catriona continued sorting the herbs, as though the conversation had not changed, as though she had not just said something that settled deep beneath Elaina’s ribs.
“Ye dinnae lose a place by leaving it,” she added gently. “Nae if it was ever truly yers.”
Elaina closed her eyes briefly. That was the danger, because she had never had a place that felt like there. Now, she did. And that only made the choice before her harder.
When she finally opened her eyes again, her gaze followed Catriona, who was looking back at her, with the warmest smile Elaina had ever seen.
The understanding between them no longer needed words, and she now knew that she had something that made leaving feel like losing far more than she had ever intended to risk.