Epilogue
The Following Night…
Acelebration was overdue. Or so Laird MacAlpin kept saying.
Catriona and Niall repeated their vows in MacAlpin Keep, with her sisters and father looking on, smiling broadly. On the wall, MacLeod tartan hung beside MacAlpin, and Catriona wanted to grin when she saw it.
Progress. At last.
Oh, there was a long way to go. A long, long way to go.
But for tonight, she thought, moving through the Great Hall, hand in hand with her husband, tonight we’re safe.
Music started up with a roar, and people squealed, hurrying in pairs towards the dance floor. She turned to Niall, smiling broadly.
“Want to dance?”
He grinned down at her, tugging her close to him. “Anything for my new bride.”
She stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him, reveling in the feeling of his arms tight around her waist. For a moment, they stood there, swaying together.
Then somebody bumped into Catriona from behind. She saw Niall’s expression darken, just for a moment, before he realized who it was.
“Fiona,” he managed. “What is it?”
“Are ye two going to dance, or are ye going to stand there staring lovingly at each other?” Fiona snorted. “It’s sickening.”
Catriona rolled her eyes. “In a minute, ye whiny wee brat.”
“Oi, don’t call me a brat. I can see that ye are back at home in the family already,” Fiona cackled, playfully elbowing her sister in the side.
She scampered off, towing a long-suffering Rowan behind her. On the dance floor, Alyth and Ewan were already dancing together, swinging each other round and round in time to the vibrant beat. Her feet tapped of their own accord.
When was the last time I danced? When was the last time I felt so entirely free?
“Are ye happy, lass?” Niall murmured, pulling her close to him.
Catriona beamed up at him, tilting back her head. “Aye. I am happy. And ye?”
“Terrified,” he admitted. “I can’t remember if I’ve ever left Keep MacLeod before. I am worried about my people, and I am worried about my father. But most of all,” he paused, tucking her hair back behind her ear, “I am worried about ye. Now, I have something to lose.”
She curled her hands around his nape. “Ye won’t lose me. I can promise ye that. Now that we’ve found each other, we’ll stay together. I… I trust ye, Niall.”
He swallowed hard, something like relief creeping across his face.
“That means more than ye know,” he whispered, closing his eyes and resting their foreheads together.
“There is trouble ahead of us, I know that,” Catriona confessed. “I know that this peaceful, happy night is just an illusion.”
“Only for now. Only until we make it a reality.”
She nodded. “Aye, that’s true enough. But I don’t care. I want to enjoy the illusion. I want it to mean something. I want to look ahead to when the wars are all over, and we’re free, all of us.”
“I swear to ye, I’ll make that happen,” he swore, pulling her tighter against him. “I’ll free the whole of the Highlands. The days of war are coming to an end, even if I have to burn Farrish and Fraser down to do it.”
“Nay, not the clans. Not more bloodshed. No more death.”
“Only a handful of men have to die,” he responded grimly. “If they won’t concede.”
Catriona frowned faintly. The talk of death made her shiver.
That’s always the case, isn’t it? One more death. Just one more. Then all will be well.
But that was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, they were all free.
She let Niall tow her towards the dance floor, a slow smile spreading across her face.
Tonight, we are happy.
Torchlight flared behind her closed lids, dancing in her dreams. Music drifted from somewhere, and when she sniffed, she breathed in the rich, unmistakable scent of roasted meat and woodsmoke.
Slowly, Malvina’s eyes cracked open, crusted with sleep. Her shack was dark, the heavy sort of darkness that indicated that it was past midnight, with little moonlight.
The smell faded, but the music remained. It was dancing music, and if she strained her ears, she could hear squeals of delight and the drum of thumping feet on boards.
Slowly and stiffly—she wasn’t as young as she once was—Malvina pushed herself into a sitting position, knuckling one eye.
Of course. The wedding ceremony is today.
She’d received an invitation. The invitation was carefully tucked away in a drawer she kept empty for important things, kept beside the invitation she’d received to Fiona’s wedding before.
Malvina hadn’t accepted that invitation, and she wouldn’t accept this one, either. Nobody really expected her to turn up. In fact, she was likely to ruin the whole night if she did.
They’d take my presence as a curse, a bad omen. And they’d probably be right.
Bones creaking, she hauled herself out of bed. The fur rugs on the floor did little to keep out the chill of the night. She padded barefoot across the shack, shouldering open the door. It tended to stick in damp weather.
Outside, the valley was dark and silent. She could hear the rippling of the river, rushing along its banks. Breathing in, the scent of crushed grass and petrichor filled her nose.
This place has brought me more peace than I deserve.
Forward she went, delicately picking her way across the rocky, grassy ground.
She’d walked like this once before, barefoot in the valley.
Years before, of course, when her feet were soft and delicate.
She’d cried, tears rolling down her face and mingling with the heavy rain, and she’d told herself that the sobbing came from the pain in her feet, sliced and scratched by the rough ground.
No more tears now, though.
When she reached the approximate center of the valley, she turned to look at the MacAlpin Keep. Lights glowed in the windows, and countless lanterns burned outside, where the celebration was taking place. Weddings always ended with a celebratory dance outside the Keep, even if it rained.
It was bad luck not to dance under the sky on a wedding day.
Laughter and music drifted across the silent valley. Malvina breathed it in, humming to herself.
Can I still remember the steps?
Tentatively, she took a hopping step forward, hands up as if holding onto an invisible partner.
They would go round next, was that right?
Back, back, another skip, a kick—not that she could kick very high anymore—and then a spin.
A tight, determined spin, one that should leave a dancer dizzy and breathless with laughter.
Then what?
Her arms dropped. It was no good, she couldn’t envision the dance anymore, nor the people around her. Slowly, she made an awkward curtsy to her imaginary partner.
“Forgive me. I’m in no mood for dancing.”
The faceless partner bowed silently and melted away. Malvina let out a shuddering breath, passing her hands over her face.
I need time to think. I should hide myself in the valley, stop people from finding me for a while. I need to prepare myself for what comes next.
The trouble was, in Malvina’s opinion, that people often believed that love could bend clans into harmony. That it could conquer all.
Well, that wasn’t true.
Love was like stone. Firm, unyielding, and sturdy enough to lull a person into a false sense of security.
But fire can swallow even stone.
Her lower lip trembled. Turning her back on the distant celebration, she set off at a brisk walk back towards her shack. Things to do, things to do.
“This one is different,” she promised herself, her voice loud and a little shaky in the silence. “This time will be different.”
But would it? History was the same, over and over.
What if it wasn’t different? It wasn’t the wild-hearted sister she feared for, no, no, no. It was the quiet one.
“The one who sits at the enemy’s table without flinching,” she whispered aloud. “The one who eats without it sticking in her throat, who sleeps easily at night on feather beds. The one who lies, lies, lies to herself and makes herself believe it.”
She froze, one hand on the door handle. Visions shimmered in front of her eyes, like they always had. Plaguing her, punishing her for her betrayal.
“A monster,” she breathed. “Shaped by cruelty. A tenderness where it should not be. Cold eyes, but there’s something behind them. What is it? Och, I’m a fool. History does not repeat itself. Nay, it echoes, echoes.”
She let out a burst of strangled laughter, the noise echoing in the silent valley. Some small, nervous creature shifted in the undergrowth, probably unsettled by the madwoman stumbling through the trees.
Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Malvina squared her shoulders.
It was a curse, really, to see what lay ahead and have no power to change it. All she could do was warn others if they came to her. Warn them and hope that they listened. Often, people took her warnings with a pinch of salt.
“Pinch of salt,” she muttered sourly. “They ought to take them as they are.”
So, then, it all rested on the shoulders of the last MacAlpin girl. The pieces were all in place. The story was ready to be told, or unraveled.
“Choose wisely, child,” Malvina said aloud, the darkness eating up her words, whisking them away almost as soon as they left her lips.
There was no one there to listen, in any case.
Choose more wisely than I did, Malvina thought, but kept the words to herself.
A burst of laughter echoed from the Keep. The wind changed, carrying the delicious scent of roast meat, fresh bread, and other goodies. The party had just begun. Letting out a long, tired sigh, she pushed open the door to her shack and disappeared into the darkness within.