22
Tentatively, Freya knocked on Elspeth’s door. Though Lady Grace and Evan had assured her that Elspeth was not angry with her, guilt was still heavy on Freya’s heart. She felt ashamed that things had taken such an unexpected turn, and for days, she had dithered on how to approach Elspeth.
She finally plucked up the courage to speak to her and rapped her knuckles on the door. Shifting on her feet, Freya waited for her sister to come to the door so they could take a walk, and she could apologize.
But what do I have to apologize for? It’s nay as if I went in and stole him from her—but—did I?
When Elspeth came to the door, she looked a bit tired—sleepless. Her dress, a pale blue, was still immaculate, though. Her eyes did not display any emotion, except for a flicker of recognition.
“Freya?”
“May we take a walk?” Freya asked. “‘Tis a lovely day outside, er, the snow came down, but I daenae ken it's too thick or too cold for us to walk through, and I want to speak with ye.”
“I suppose,” Elspeth’s smile was slight. “Just let me get me fur coat.”
They did not speak until they left the castle and began meandering through the large inner courtyard. Freya spotted the pagoda where she and Evan had shared their first kiss but steered her eyes away.
A line of trees, their tops dusted with white snow, offered enough cover for them to walk under. Freya sucked in a nervous breath, “I want to apologize. I ken seeing Evan—Laird Ruthven—and me, isnae easy for ye. I never kent this would happen, that I’d—for lack of better word—steal him from ye. I never planned it; I swear.”
Elspeth was quiet, and stared out into the extensive lands before she asked, “Do ye love him?”
Taken aback by her question, Freya did not reply instantly, but Elspeth pressed on, “Let me ask an easier question; what do ye ken ye do if he just vanished on the morrow?”
A rip of pain sliced through Freya as the suggestion. “I—I’d be inconsolable.”
“Have ye told him of yer feelings?”
“In as many words,” Freya replied. “I struggled for a long time because I couldnae…I felt I was betraying ye. I felt guilty.”
Elspeth sighed. “Ye have naything to be guilty about. Ye dinnae betray me,Ibetrayed me. I’ve realized that I went about this the wrong way, and I wasnae fair to ye.”
“So, tell me,” Elspeth said while brushing her hand over a scanty-leafed bush. “What does love feel like?”
Heart pounding, Freya began to wonder if she should admit her deepest secrets. “Like a river sweeping ye away and out into the sea. It’s somethin’ ye cannae control, excitin’ and fearful at the same time. At first, I swore to meself that I would fight against this…love, but every time I was with him, every time Evan held me…his kiss is like fire. I love him more than I kent I could ever love anyone.”
Elspeth stared wide-eyed at Freya before she turned her head away. Then quietly, she said, “One day, I too would like to ken such a kiss.”
Still uneasy, Freya turned to her sister and took her hands. Her voice shook with emotion. Tears burned behind her eyes as the torment of her guilt overwhelmed her, nearly tipping over with Elspeth’s last words. “I beg yer forgiveness.”
Grasping her hands, Elspeth smiled, “Please, Freya, ‘tis over, ye dinnae betray me. Ye’ve been so strong, and suffered so many bad turns in life. I ken its time God repaid ye for all those miseries, and if Laird Ruthven is what he chose to repay ye with then, who am I to disagree with him?”
Freya looked away for a moment, overwhelmed by the unexpected compassion reflected in the depths of Elspeth’s eyes. She had never seen her sister like this before, yet she saw flickers of fragility in her sister’s gaze.
“I’m sure He has someone for ye too,” Freya replied kindly. “T’wouldnae be fair.”
“We’ll see,” Elspeth replied while pulling away. “Have ye kent of what to do for yer wedding?”
Ducking her head, Freya admitted, “Evan agreed to have it done at the Cillock village’s kirk. I ken its naything as fancy as ye would have had yers, but it’s somewhere familiar to me.”
Elspeth’s nose wrinkled in distaste, but she shrugged, “And when did he decide that?”
A memory of Evan’s lips nipping on her ear had Freya’s cheeks burning, “Last night, he took me to a grotto with the clearest water and sweetest-smelling moss. I asked him to do something that would be familiar for me and have the wedding in the village, in the springtime.”
“The sweetest flowers will be bloomin’,” Elspeth said. “I can see that. Better than the white barrenness, this land will become in the next comin’ days.”
Following her sister’s line of sight, Freya looked over the land, once dark with dirt, now covered with light fluff of the snow. A childhood memory came back to her, and she giggled.
“When I was six, a thick storm came in and left the whole village covered in white. I went to play with the other children and came back home, drenched with wet snow. I had to sit Yuletide out with the worst cold I had ever had.”