A/N: A special thanks to Mockingbyrd's Tune, for being far better with grammar and editing than I could ever be!
Prologue II
The first time I laid eyes on Castle Droigheann, I thought that it must be the most beautiful place on earth. The size of my whole village could have roughly fit within its fortifications; and although the size of the place was intimidating, the carefully cultivated grounds helped to blend the stark castle into the wild landscape around it. Vines wrapped themselves around the stone walls as if they were trying to reclaim the land for the wild, but perhaps what was most striking were the giant bushes of blood red flowers. From the hillside where we approached, I could see that they were arranged in a most peculiar fashion, creating pathways in between them- many which led to absolutely nowhere.
Douglas was riding a great, brown Clydesdale in behind the cart where I was sitting, and he must have noticed my interest.
"That's the rose maze, lass, the pride and joy of the late lady of the castle- may she rest in peace. Do you see that bit in the center, just there?" he asked, pointing towards what appeared to be carved stonework in the distance.
"Yes, what is it?" I wondered.
"That's a fountain. It draws up water from the spring beneath the ground and shoots it out into the air. It's near magic, lass. If I hadn't seen it built with my own eyes I might have thought the fair folk behind it," he explained.
I found myself eager to see this fountain for myself. Such things did not exist within the borders of my small village, and I suddenly wanted to experience everything that my new home had to offer all at once.
"This place is incredible. Am I really to live here?" I asked, completely astonished by the sheer magnificence of the castle. I'd never thought to see anything like it in my life, since, much as I'd wished to, leaving my father's home was never a realistic possibility, given the state of my foot. Instead, I would dream of places that were safe and far away, but even my imagination could never have conjured a place that was so wonderful.
"We'll find a place for you here, not to worry," Douglas said. "If you like the gardens so much, perhaps we'll work you there. Weeding requires more sitting than standing, and they can use some attention- even though the laird hardly uses them any longer."
"Really?" I said, a little shocked at Douglas' statement. "If I had such a garden, I'd never leave it!"
The big man laughed heartily, reaching into the cart and lifting me out of it as if I weighed nothing.
"Aye, lass, but you're still young, and our laird- well, he's got other pursuits on his mind of late," he replied, putting me down on the ground more gently than one would have thought possible for a person of his stature.
I was curious about this new laird and was about to ask what those new pursuits might be. However, before I had the chance, the stomping of heavy hooves on the road behind us distracted my travelling companion.
"If it isn't Douglas, returned from whatever cesspit was on the tax rotation for the day!" a voice called out from behind us. Douglas turned quickly, although without my walking stick it took me a good deal longer to face the owner of the voice than it did him. When I finally managed, I noticed that Douglas was bowing low. I could only assume that this boy was the laird. I regarded him thoughtfully, realizing that my father had been right, for while clearly older than I was, he wasn't yet old enough to grow a beard.
Still, he was unlike any boy I'd ever seen. Growing up in a small village, most children, myself included, were generally unkempt and covered in the grime of the day. The young laird, however, was nothing short of perfect, and to say I was a little in awe of him would have been a vast understatement.
Back home, I would sometimes make my way to the village hall to listen to the old ladies tell their fairy stories- of handsome princes and terrifying monsters. I would try to envision myself in them, for my life had certainly started out as miserable as any pathetic heroine's at the beginning of the tales-but I always fell short when imagining my hero. Perhaps it was because until this moment I hadn't anybody to compare him to. With deep, blue eyes, and dark, brown hair streaked with honey-coloured lines, I decided he must be the most handsome boy to have ever existed.
At least, he was until he opened his mouth.
"Does this thing belong in the stables with the rest of the pigs?" the laird asked, and I could feel a flush start at the tip of my toes before it worked its way to my cheeks.
"Nay, Laird Alasdair, she's to be a new servant here. Her father couldn't pay his due," Douglas explained, still bowing low.
"Why do I think I got the short end of the deal?" he replied with a laugh. It was only then that I realized that he was riding with others- another boy who looked a bit older, and a lady who was dressed in one of the finest gowns I'd ever seen, both laughing along with him.
"Because you did my lord. She's a cripple! I've had horses born with that same condition- clubfoot our horsemaster called it. He puts those useless foals out of their misery," said the other boy, most definitely another noble of some sort.
"My goodness, I was so focused on her disheveled appearance I didn't even notice the foot. Wherever shall you have her put to work, Alasdair? I can't imagine she'd be much use. My father would never stand for such a servant- she's not worth the food you'd be providing her," the lady added with a sneer.
None of these insults were new to me. I'd heard them all more times than I could count, although this time they were considerably more vicious. Still, I think it stung more that I'd been naive. I'd thought that based on Douglas' kind manner his laird would have the same generosity of spirit- because surely the nobility must be the best of all his people. If that was what I'd been hoping for in my new master I was most horribly let down.
I'm not sure what reaction they were expecting from me, but usually I was far better at letting such words slide over me as if they'd never been spoken. There was something about this Laird Alisdair and his goons that made me especially upset, though. Perhaps it was because, unlike most of the villagers I'd grown up with, they were not stating a fact, or showing me pity. Their words were carefully chosen to inflict pain.
So, trying to act more grown up than I felt, I took a deep breath to prepare myself for the words I ought have known better than to say.
"Say what you will about me, but I'll prove you wrong. You're nothing but a bully, and I came here expecting better from you. My father said you were nothing but a bairn, but he didn't mention anything about you being a spoiled, hateful lout," I said, more matter-of-factly than angrily. None of the three nobles said a thing for a moment; they were far too busy staring at me with open shock. Douglas didn't look too impressed either, though at whose behaviour, I wasn't sure.
"Are you mad, chit? I could have you whipped for that impudence!" Laird Alasdair finally said, but I stood my ground, refusing to relent to him. I knew that if I did, his abuse would never end. Though, to be honest it might not, regardless of my actions.
"You could, but then you'd only be proving me right," I answered, and despite his growl of disapproval, he knew that no matter what decision he made, he'd be at a loss. If he let me go, he'd have to concede defeat, but if he whipped me he'd become exactly what I accused him of being.
"Douglas, next time you bring me an indentured servant, pick someone who doesn't fancy herself a wit? As for this one, I'm sure she'll enjoy mucking out the stables for the rest of her miserable existence. I'll have to feed Barbary especially well to make sure she's kept busy." Alasdair sneered, the expression contorting his handsome face into a monstrous one. Without sparing another look at me, he rode off into the moors, his friends following in his wake.
"I'm not sure if that was wise, lass," Douglas admonished, albeit gently.
"Should I have let him be cruel, then?" I asked.
"Aye, you should have. He could do you harm if he wished."
"Then I'm in no worse position than I was with my father. I'm not afraid of your laird, Douglas Mackenzie, but I am afraid for him. If he's meant to lead his people, he ought to show some compassion to those who are beneath him, or it's not me he'll need to be worried about."
"Again with wisdom beyond your years, wee one. How did you come by such a heart?"
"Just because I can't walk doesn't mean I can't listen, and I've heard stories about people like your laird. Folks who act too big for their britches are soon to learn that there is always someone bigger and more powerful than they are. Besides, I watched my da fall from grace for thinking he was better than everyone else just because he had a pretty face. But you saw him today, and what became of him- a drunken fool with a cripple for a daughter. So I tell myself that even though I'm not pretty, or rich or particularly good at anything, if I keep doing what's right, then just maybe life will get a little better. I'll make my own story have a happy ending. Whether I'm at home with my da or shoveling manure in Laird Alasdair's stables it's all the same."
Douglas placed his hands on my shoulders kindly.
"I hope you will, lass, and courage is a good thing to be having. But you'd best be careful on how you use it, for you can't make a happy ending if you're dead, now can you?"
I had to concede that Douglas had a point, and that I might have been a little hasty in criticizing the laird to his face-him being rude notwithstanding, and so I nodded in agreement before reaching into the cart and pulling out my walking stick.
"Now, we'll leave the cart to be unloaded, and I'll take you to the kitchens. You look like you could use a decent meal and something warm to drink," he said, putting the encounter with Alasdair out of our minds for the time being. My stomach rumbled eagerly in anticipation of a warm meal. It had been ages since I'd eaten anything of substance.
We walked through a cobbled courtyard until we reached a small door, where the most heavenly smell of baking bread wafted through the air and reached my nose. I breathed it in deeply and nearly sighed in pleasure at the thought that I might get the chance to taste it.
As soon as Douglas entered, a great clattering could be heard, and when I followed after him, I saw a red faced woman head towards him brandishing a rather intimidating wooden spoon.
"It's about time you got back, you old fool!" she said, and I braced myself for yet another angry encounter. Yet Douglas only laughed, smacking the lady on her bottom quite happily.
"Not old yet, Iona, but I feel it after today."
"I missed you, Douglas Mackenzie. I worry over you on the road with the laird's goods- what with all of the brigands about on the roads." The woman sighed. Her demeanor instantly improved as she wrapped her arms around Douglas in a fierce embrace. I watched the exchange with interest for a time, until one of Iona's sharp, brown eyes finally spied me from beneath Douglas' shoulder.
"And who've you brought me?" she wondered, though her tone was kind and non-accusing.
"Camryn Roy, meet my wife, Iona. Don't let her bite fool you, lass. She's harmless," Douglas said with a grin before whispering "mostly," in my ear. I couldn't help but giggle at Iona's expression of mock outrage as I shook her hand.
"Pleased to be meeting you, Mistress Iona," I said as politely as I could. If the woman was the cook, I'd want to be on her good side.
"My, but aren't you a wee thing?" Iona said, looking me over, and I couldn't help but notice when her gaze fell on my leg. I was surprised when she said nothing. Instead, she approached me and ran her fingers through my wild hair with a touch of affection. "But you've a fiery spirit, I can tell. Be welcome here, Camryn. You look as if you'll be needing a good meal in your belly. A good bath, too, I should think."
After barking out some orders to the rest of the kitchen staff, Iona sat with her husband and me at an old, oak table. It had been so long since I could last remember eating a real meal at a table I almost felt like crying, so instead I shoveled food into my mouth like it was going to be my last supper. While Douglas and I ate, he told Iona of his trip to my village, and, later, about our encounter with Laird Alasdair.
"Oh what I wouldn't have given to see that boy's face!" Iona exclaimed in delight.
"Hush now, Iona. Don't be giving the lass any more ideas," Douglas said.
"Nonsense! Alasdair needs a good paddling himself, and I've got just the spoon to do it. He was such a sweet boy once, but after his father passed on- rest his soul- he had too much power far too soon. The child's grown sick with it, and I don't mind saying so! Those so-called friends of his are a bunch of rotten apples too, if you ask me, and they're spreading their disease to our boy!" Iona exclaimed, and it was in that moment that I decided I liked her very much.
"Would you be quiet, woman? The last thing we need is to make him angry again."
"The boy's not here Douglas, he's out hunting them deer on the moors again. I've told him it's no good; the red deer are for the fairies after all, and they're not keen on sharing. Speaking of, I'd best leave some extra milk out for them tonight. Perhaps that will help appease them," she said.
"Enough with the superstition, Iona," Douglas warned, but I had to admit, my curiosity had been piqued.
"What do you mean, the red deer are for the fairies?" I asked. Pointedly ignoring Douglas' annoyed expression, Iona explained.
"It's an old legend, back from when Castle Droigheann was new. The first laird on the seat of thorns, Callum Lyall, was said to have made a pact with the Queen of Elphame, of the fair folk under the hill. Both beautiful and terrible she is, but she prizes the red deer above all other creatures. So, in order to build his castle on this land, he promised to protect them so long as his family resides here."
"Have they not been hunted before?" I wondered. Even I knew that a hart was the most prized trophy for hunters.
"One hasn't been seen in nearly a century, so I doubt it truly exists," Douglas scoffed.
"But if it does, our young lord best not be hunting it, lest he incur the Queen's wrath," Iona countered.
"It's just a story, woman. Don't scare the poor lass on her first day here. Come then, enough fairy stories for one day. We'll get a bath ready for you, and Iona will find some clothes that will better suit you. You'll sleep in the barn soundly by the fire. I'll send some boys for the warmest blankets we can find," Douglas said, tossing his wife a frustrated glance.
"You best be hanging rowan on the doors of the stables as well, Douglas, just in case it's not a story after all."