Chapter 4

Drummond Castle was a towering structure of stone, very much like Cathleen's home. The sight of it as they approached, though, did nothing to invoke a sense of home or to help with how much she missed her own lands, her chambers, the gardens that sprawled around Castle MacLaren. She and Bonnie hadn't been gone for long, but the few travels she had experienced hadn't lasted more than a few weeks and they had certainly been much more comfortable than this. Now, she had no idea how much time they would have to spend there, spying on the Drummond Clan.

It is madness. All o' it. How can we spy on them when they have soldiers who are surely better trained than we are?

It was true that Cathleen and Bonnie had had an upbringing that was far from conventional for young girls. Their father had been adamant they learn how to fight and he had been delighted when Cathleen had shown so much promise with a knife, while Bonnie excelled with a bow. He had even brought them into his meetings with the council as they were growing up—a decision which had been met with much resistance by some of his men—claiming that once they were married and one of them became the lady of the clan, then they would have to ascertain that the clan was in capable hands. Still, they knew little about spying and had virtually no experience in combat outside of training. No one would engage them properly in a fight, all too scared of hurting the laird's daughters, as though she and Bonnie were made of glass.

"Here it is," said Macauley as the four of them reached the castle gates. Even now, Cathleen couldn't help but steal glances at him, her gaze searching for any indication that he wasn't doing well after the attack, but he seemed perfectly fine. Save for the dressing over his arm and the blood that had seeped through it, there was nothing to suggest he had ever been attacked at all.

The castle gates led to a courtyard that was brimming with life, more so than back home.

A young woman approached them as they dismounted their horses, her dark hair pinned back carefully, her hazel eyes searching for something Cathleen couldn't identify. Though she was a small woman, pale like the whitest spring flowers, there was something imposing about her that filled up the space in a way Cathleen usually only saw from men twice her size.

Laird Drummond greeted her with a familiarity befitting a married couple and it didn't take Cathleen long to realize who the woman was—Lady Drummond, the one they were meant to hold hostage.

Cathleen exchanged a glance with Bonnie as the woman approached them, a warm smile spreading on her lips. "Welcome," she told them. "Me husband tells me ye saved Macauley's life."

Cathleen and Bonnie bowed to her in greeting. It was still strange to expect no bow in return now, though they had come to get used to different treatment since leaving the castle.

"I only bandaged his arm," said Cathleen.

"Me sister did," said Bonnie at the same time.

Cathleen glanced at her sister from the corner of her eye, but she supposed Bonnie was right. If they wanted the laird and the lady to be impressed with them, then they had to appear impressive. Cathleen couldn't be too humble now.

"I'm Bonnie an' this is Cathleen," Bonnie continued. "It is an honor, me lady."

"Please, call me Deirdre," Lady Drummond said, waving a hand dismissively. "The honor is mine, truly. It reassures me tae ken we'll have capable healers takin' care o' our people."

Guilt tore at Cathleen's stomach the more Deirdre spoke. She seemed like such a kind, warm woman, the type of person to make one feel at home right after the first meeting. How could they do anything to harm her? How could they tangle her up in this trap Faolan had built for her when she was such a good person?

Something must have shown on her face, Cathleen thought, as Deirdre looked at her with concern, brow furrowing. "Are ye alright? Ye seem… concerned."

"I'm only tired," Cathleen was quick to assure her. "We have travelled a long way an' neither o' us had the chance tae rest."

"Ach, o' course!" said Deirdre as she called over one of the servants who was walking past them. When the girl reached them, Deirdre motioned to the other side of the courtyard. "Will ye show our guests tae the healer's quarters? An' tell the cook there will be two more people dinin' with us tonight."

"Thank ye," said Cathleen. "Ye're too kind."

"Nonsense," said Deirdre. "We must get acquainted properly. Go an' rest, an' then I will send a servant tae fetch ye when it's time."

With one last look at Deirdre, Cathleen and Bonnie followed the servant girl across the courtyard to the healer's quarters. She led them there silently, bowing before she left them to take in the place and settle in.

The main room of the quarters was large, a sprawling, open floor with beds pushed to one side and bookcases, their shelves straining under the weight of the books they held, covering the other. There was a large working bench and the air smelled of dried herbs and medicinal pastes, their scents sweet and sharp. Most of the place was spotless, as though someone cleaned it daily, but Cathleen could see they had left the vials undisturbed, dust gathering around them.

Perhaps the servants were too scared to move them, she thought, and so had decided against cleaning those shelves.

Past the main room, Cathleen discovered two sleeping quarters. The rooms were small, just enough for a bed, a dresser with a washbasin, and a chair, but they were comfortable enough, with soft mattresses and warm blankets. Each bedroom had a window overlooking the gardens, sunlight and the scent of greenery wafting in from them.

It wasn't like their chambers at home, but they were more than either of them could have imagined when they began their journey—and certainly much better than the rooms they had found at the inns. Besides, comfort was the last thing on their minds when their mission loomed over them like a great shadow, marring every moment of their stay in Castle Drummond.

Soon, Bonnie joined Cathleen and the two of them stood there in silence for a while. They didn't need to speak for Cathleen to know they were thinking about the same thing: how would they ever manage to carry out the plan?

There was no other choice, though. They either did what they had to do or Faolan would make good on his threat to marry Bonnie.

* * *

Dinner that night was a grand affair, the long table in the great hall almost buckling under the weight of the plates and the food placed upon it. The room was impressive, with rich tapestries hanging from the walls and a large, imposing fire burning bright in the fireplace. It was a warm place, just like the people who lived there, more like a home and less like a cold, cavernous castle that was built only for intimidation. Even sitting at such a large table didn't do anything to detract from the warm atmosphere, the distance between them not so much that they had to shout to be heard.

Laird Drummond, naturally, sat at the far end of the table, with Deirdre next to him on one side and Macauley on the other. Cathleen was glad to see that Macauley seemed to have no trouble using his arm for small movements and that he had no complaints of pain, though the wound surely still hurt. For a while, she ate in silence, simply listening to them as they spoke, but just as she had feared, it didn't take long for the laird to turn his attention to her and Bonnie.

"How long have ye been travellin'?" he asked. "Are ye nae from these parts?"

"We are from the region, me laird," said Cathleen, but before she could say anything else, the laird interrupted her.

"Please… Kian," he said. "Everyone here calls me Kian. I willnae have ye call me laird after saving Macauley's life."

Cathleen forced a smile to her lips. She had hoped that she could at least keep her distance from the laird if not from his wife, but they both seemed so eager to welcome them and befriend them that keeping such a distance seemed unlikely.

"Kian… we have been on the road fer several days," said Cathleen. "It has been a tryin' journey but we are glad tae be here. We are eager tae resume our efforts an' tae fortify our ken o' the craft."

As she spoke, Cathleen drew everyone's eyes on her. Under the table, Bonnie kicked her, and it took all of Cathleen's self-control to stop herself from jumping in surprise.

Cathleen glanced at her sister, noticing the way she carried herself, the way she held her cutlery, the way she had cut her food. Their governess would have berated her for all of it even at her age, just as she had done in the past when she and Cathleen were children and she was trying to teach them manners.

Of course, she wasn't supposed to know these things. She wasn't supposed to have had a governess or anyone to teach them such excellent manners at all.

"It's certainly good tae see that yer arm is healin' already," Cathleen told Macauley hastily, trying her best to change the subject. She let her body relax into the chair a little, her posture slowly melting into one for which her old governess would have slapped her palm right between her shoulder blades. Whether that would help to maintain the illusion of a lower status, though, she didn't know. She had already made the mistake to forget herself—something they could not afford.

Still, the dinner resumed and was back to normal in no time, the brief silence replaced by the sounds of knives against the plates. Macauley hesitated for a moment, his gaze curious as he looked at Cathleen, but then he said, "Aye. I'm doin' very well, all thanks tae ye."

It was all Cathleen could bring herself to say, the fear that she would once again slip up and make a mistake too strong to allow her to join the conversation once more. Instead, she fell silent again and focused on her food, trying to remember how to eat without the manners that had been drilled right into her.

It was Bonnie who took over then, making easy conversation for both of them. Still, there was no relief for Cathleen until the dinner was finally over, along with the scrutiny to which she had been subjected. The moment Kian excused himself, so did Cathleen, hoping that she could escape to the safety of her new room.

"Cathleen… a word?" asked Macauley before she could get too far. Frozen right before the great door that led to freedom, Cathleen tried to swallow around the knot in her throat, her hands curling into fists. There was no calming her racing heart, no convincing herself that this could end in anything but disaster, but she schooled her features into a careful neutrality regardless before she turned around to meet Macauley's gaze.

"Now?" she asked.

"Aye," said Macauley. "It will only take a moment."

Cathleen looked at Bonnie, desperate for a rescue, but there was nothing her sister could do to get her out of this. "I'll come find ye," Cathleen told her and then dragged her feet as she made her way reluctantly towards Macauley, letting him lead her into the drawing room adjacent to the great hall.

Her palms were clammy, covered in sweat as she stood by a large window. The breeze pouring in from outside did nothing to bring her back to her senses, though under any other circumstances, she would have found it pleasant. Now, it only chilled her to the bone, along with the thought that she would soon be discovered as the fraud she was.

"Thank ye," Macauley said, his dark eyes filled with gratitude as he came to stand near her, but not so close that it would appear inappropriate if someone saw them. For a few moments, Cathleen could do nothing but blink at him in surprise, trying to parse the meaning of his words. What kind of trap was this? What was he planning?

In her paranoia, it took her several seconds to realize there was no trap. Macauley was only thanking her for helping him, for tending to his wound.

If only he kent I was the one responsible fer it.

"Ye dinnae need tae thank me, Macauley," Cathleen said, gently but firmly. The more people thanked her for saving his life, the worse she felt, the pit in her stomach widening with every display of gratitude. She didn't deserve any of it. She didn't deserve all this kindness. "I only did what anyone would dae. Surely, had I nae been there, someone else would have taken care o' ye."

"Perhaps," said Macauley. "But I am still thankful."

A heavy, uncomfortable silence stretched between them as Cathleen tried her best to come up with something, anything to say. The guilt choked her, though, lodged in her throat like it had a physical presence.

"I meant tae ask ye," Macauley continued when Cathleen said nothing, "are ye perhaps hidin' somethin'?"

There it was, Cathleen thought. She had already been discovered, mere hours after making it to the castle. She blinked and tried her best to appear as innocent and confused as she could be, hoping she could at least fix this somehow.

"Hidin' somethin'?" she asked. "What could ye ever mean?"

"I only ask because, well… ye seem like a noble-born lass," Macauley said. "Deirdre's sister, she had tae flee fer a while, so this is somethin' I ken happens. If ye're only pretendin' tae be a healer, if ye had tae flee, too, because ye were in danger, then ye can tell us. We would all understand. Ye an' yer sister, ye dinnae have tae pretend."

Cathleen could hardly believe her luck. Macauley had been so close to figuring out the truth, but she supposed the truth was so much stranger and unexpected than he could have ever imagined. Naturally, he had imagined that she was on the run, that she was a noble girl in hiding with no one but her sister to help her.

Cathleen laughed, trying to keep the relief she felt from tinting the sound. "Ach, nay," she said, shaking her head with a smile. Now that she knew she wasn't in any danger of being discovered, she could play her part well. "Are ye tryin' tae flatter me?"

Her question took Macauley by surprise, his eyes widening just slightly as he let out a short, breathless laugh. In the half-light of the torches, Cathleen could have sworn she could see a slight tint of pink on his cheeks.

"As much as I would wish I were a noble lass, I'm only a healer, I assure ye," she told him. Now that she had distracted him, she could make her escape. "Our faither… he made sure we both kent how tae speak an' how tae act in polite company."

Macauley scrutinized her for a few more moments, as if he thought there was more to discover. In the end, though, he only smiled. "Well, ye could certainly pass fer a noble lass."

"Thank ye," Cathleen said, not knowing what else she could tell him. "I should… I should find Bonnie. Come tae our quarters on the morrow so I can dress yer wound again."

"O' course," Macauley said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other a little awkwardly. It seemed that neither of them knew how to have that conversation, though Cathleen didn't know if that was because they felt awkward around each other or if it was the situation that made it so difficult.

Bowing her head, Cathleen turned around and all but fled out of the room, not even glancing back at Macauley once—even as she could feel his gaze boring right through her.