1
Footsteps echoed off the stone floor as Willow Flanagan, sister of Laird McCallum, looked about her chambers. It was Lilith, as she expected, and her sister was kind enough to allow Willow this glance around her rooms for a long moment of silence. With a sigh, Willow hung her head briefly before turning to face her twin with a forced smile.
“Sister,” Willow whispered, her eyes burning all the harder as she saw the restrained tears in her twin’s, “I promise to send word as soon as I am delivered.”
Lilith nodded, blinking rapidly in a vain attempt to stop the tears. It only served to hurry them on, however, and the fat droplets dripped down her sister’s face.
“I daenae wish for ye to leave. What am I to do without ye?”
Sniffling, Willow shook her head, pulling Lilith under her arm and squeezing her against her chest. “Have a bit of lightness, Lilith. I am gettin' handfasted to Mason Galloway of the MacMillans, nae bein' hanged.”
Her smile was resolute, a skill that Willow had honed like a blade over years of practice. It was her only true power in McCallum castle, after all. And her cheerful countenance was an armor that she could not be parted from. Still, Lilith eyed her, the blue of her eyes the only difference between them.
“Ye will be gone, Sister, and I willnae fault ye for lookin' at the MacMillans as a bonnier home than this one.”
The words soared through the air straight to the center of Willow’s chest, but it was the look of disbelief that struck Willow that much more. Lilith was the sole person in the whole of the castle—dare she say the entire globe—who could see past Willow’s practiced sunny attitude.
And Willow was ever so grateful that today, of all days, her sister had seen fit to let that power of hers remain silent. Willow could not keep up the façade of joviality were Lilith to speak to it out loud.
“After a year and a day, we shall be married at last, and ye’ll find yerself and the renewed celebration, Lilith.” Willow grinned, a sorrow touching her heart for the distance that her sister had been putting between the two of them as of late. “I am glad to have had this chance to speak to ye.”
Lilith dropped her stare to the floor, her body going rigid against Willow’s side as she still held her sister close. It was plain that Lilith worried over something, and it bit at Willow that she still did not know what caused her sister such distress.
“Sister,” she began, facing Lilith directly toward her, “will ye nae tell me what has bothered ye so? I ken that ye havenae slept these past few evenings. Surely somethin' must be troublin' ye fiercely.”
The shimmering over Lilith’s eyes swelled, and she looked directly into Willow’s eyes, her bottom lip trembling.
“Willow, it is only that?—”
“Do ye require the entirety of the day to ready yerself, lass? Or can we finally be put to the road before I am grayed and ancient?”
Laird McCallum, their brother, stood at the threshold of Willow’s room, looking down his nose at the both of them. His eyes held the cruelty of his words and actions, and Willow didn’t miss how Lilith shrunk back slightly, terrified of their brother.
Locking her jaw tightly, Willow sucked in a deep, if subtle, breath through her nose, biting her tongue before she responded with words she might regret. Still, before she could say something in response, Lilith pushed away from her and regarded their brother with a bow.
“Apologies, Magnus. It was I who kept Willow. We shall follow ye to the carriage at once.”
Bile reached up Willow’s throat as Lilith fell all over herself to appease the laird. She was regularly making herself small and meek to gain their brother’s approval, and it would not serve her. Their brother would never look upon them as anything other than a means to secure more holdings through marriage.
He is nothing but cruel to the both of us and everyone else, for that matter. Do not give his ego what it does not require, Sister.
“I only wished to bestow a final goodbye to our sister, Brother.” Willow cut in. “Surely, ye understand the need for a fond farewell from yer loved ones?”
Though, she knew he did not.
Magnus glared at her, seeing past the sugar of her words. They were both plainly aware of how little the laird loved either of them, and Willow was quite sure that the man had yet to love anything in the whole of his life. He merely tolerated them. Though, Willow would admit that even that was a stretch some days, particularly those spent on the receiving end of his lash.
Reaching for the shawl she intended to wear during the journey, Willow took her sister’s hand and proceeded to the door, looking as ready as ever to follow her brother’s commands.
Magnus grabbed Willow’s arm roughly, tossing her toward the door. “Daenae run yer trap around yer new husband, Sister. Ye willnae be spoilin' this arrangement for me. Understood?”
Willow bowed, ducking her head with a smile. “Of course, me laird. I wouldnae dream of making ye less than proud. Let us take to the carriage. I will be the mosteagerbride for MacMillan.”
Magnus was at in her a second, and Willow hissed as he yanked her head by the hair. “I’ve had enough of yer mouth clapping about. Fetch yer things and move.”
Shoving her again, Willow was thrust toward her bed. Magnus glared at the two of them, pointing his bony finger at them.
“Ye ken where the stables are. Manage to amble yerself there or find yerself running after the horses until we reach the MacMillans.”