Chapter 3

It was an uncharacteristically balmy day, though the sky was a steely grey. Still, it was the perfect opportunity for Lilith to practice her archery and she stood near the edge of the courtyard, away from any wandering guards and servants, throwing arrow after arrow at the three trees she had used as targets ever since she was a child. It was a finicky job—despite the comfortable temperatures of the day, there was a breeze that she had to account for as she fired the arrows, her mind tasked with a series of complex calculations each time.

She liked the challenge, though. This was the only way for her to perfect her shooting.

Behind her, Freya sat with one of their maids, painting. The poor girl, Fiona, was being subjected to a relentless questioning, too, Freya asking her question after question about boys. It sounded like torture, to Lilith at least, so perhaps she was only projecting. Fiona, after all, was answering quite willingly, she and Freya giggling.

"All the lasses here love Cameron," Fiona said and Lilith couldn't help but snort in amusement as she readied her next arrow. It didn't surprise her at all to find out Cameron Baxter, a young yet accomplished warrior of the Stewart Clan, was popular among the maids. He was handsome, kind, and most importantly, hopelessly oblivious. A girl could kiss him on the lips and he still wouldn't know she was interested in him or even how to speak to her.

Then again, he wasn't interested in them. He only seemed interested in the one woman who saw him as nothing but a friend—Freya. Ever since Lilith could remember, he had stared at her with such longing that she couldn't help but feel sorry for her sister's lack of interest.

"Cameron?" Freya asked, sounding surprised. "But he's so…"

Meek? Timid?

"Lamblike," was the word Freya settled on, much to Lilith's amusement. Her sister didn't seem to understand that the very thing she didn't like in Cameron was precisely what women like Fiona wanted. Not all of their maids had begun their service in their castle. Many of them had served other, much more cruel lairds before. They knew what it was like to be in their mercy, in the mercy of their sons and their men.

"He is kind," Fiona said. "An' that is enough."

"Who is?"

Cameron's voice startled all three of them, and Lilith, along with Freya and Fiona, turned around to see him approach along with their father, Thomas. Fiona bowed at him as Lilith walked over to them, trying to suppress an amused smile.

"Faither," Freya said, completely ignoring Cameron's question. "Takin' a walk without me?"

With a chuckle, Thomas laid a gentle hand on Freya's shoulder. "Ye seemed busy enough tae me. But nay, I came tae tell ye tae prepare fer the suitors. They will arrive in a few days an' I want ye tae be on yer best behavior."

Lilith knew his words were meant for her and her only. Freya, always the perfect maiden, didn't need to be reminded to act like a lady. It was only Lilith who seemed to have a problem with it, as though there was a strange fault in her blood that destined her to be an embarrassment to their family. It was how it had always been—her beautiful dresses stained by grass and mud when she was a child, the pale skin she was instructed to keep unmarred always covered in cuts and bruises and uneven, red splotches from the sun that never quite seemed to turn into a proper tan. She didn't fall from trees or play in the mud anymore, but her hands were rough and calloused from her archery and her needlework was, according to her governess at least, atrocious.

She was lucky to have a father like Thomas. Someone else may have tried to beat her into submission a long time ago, but Thomas not only indulged her, he often even encouraged her. This was the only matter on which he insisted there was no other way and Lilith had to do as she was told.

She had to entertain the suitors. She had to choose one of them.

"Will Evander MacEwan come?" Freya asked, suddenly thrown into a frenzy of activity as she stood and gathered her painting supplies, tasking Fiona with holding half of it. She already seemed to know the answer to her question, though she still waited for their father to speak, lips stretching into a wide grin.

"Aye, I have received word that he will come," their father said.

"I must find a dress," Freya said, gathering what was left of heir paints and rushing off, Fiona following close behind. As she left, Cameron turned to look at her with such sorrow that Lilith couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Out of all the women, many of whom would happily throw themselves at his feet, Cameron had fallen in love with the one who never even spared him a

glance.

Ever since meeting Evander MacEwan, Freya had decided he was the man she wanted to marry, despite Lilith's warnings that he didn't seem genuine. Like Freya, Lilith had only met him once, but where Freya saw charm and appeal, Lilith saw an overconfident, philandering boy.

With Freya gone, though, Lilith could tell her father precisely what she thought about this whole charade. The only reason why she held her tongue in front of her sister was because she didn't want to dampen her excitement.

"Faither, ye ken what I think about this," she told him, placing her bow by her feet to rest her hands on her hips. "I've told ye ‘afore, I dinnae wish tae wed."

This was far from the first time they had had this conversation and it showed in her father's weariness. Lilith was just as weary of it. She didn't want to argue with him, but what choice did he leave her when he insisted that she had to marry?

She couldn't claim there were no good men out there. Cameron was a prime example of a good man who could make a very good husband for Freya, if only she was perceptive enough to notice him. Most of the men she had met who could be potential partners, though, were nothing but mindless, controlled by their appetites, or cruel, only wishing to subjugate their wives, and Lilith wasn't interested in either of those things. Besides she, too, would make a terrible wife. Though she knew men were attracted to her appearance, she also knew she lacked the mild-mannered, sweet disposition of a proper lady. The only reason a man could want her was her status as the heir of a powerful clan or her beauty.

"An' I've told ye that this isnae negotiable," her father insisted, but then his tone softened as he closed the distance between them, placing both hands on her shoulders. "Ye're all grown now. Ye must find a husband, Lilith. I willnae always be here?—"

"Faither," Lilith chastised, but Thomas only shook his head.

"Listen tae me," he said. "I willnae always be here. When I'm gone, I wish tae ken that ye have someone by yer side, someone who makes ye happy. Dae ye ken what I fear with ye?"

"What?" Lilith said, indulging him.

"That ye're so independent, ye'll end up alone."

Lilith couldn't help but roll her eyes. She appreciated her father's concern, but she didn't understand it. For one, he was neither that old nor ill and so he had no reason to think that he would be gone soon. Even when old age took him, though, Lilith would still have Freya. She would still have her clan. They were all she needed in her life.

She had thought her father, at least, would understand. He knew what it was like to have loved and lost. He understood that pain better than anyone.

"I promise ye, I'm nae alone now an' I willnae be alone in the future," Lilith said. "Dinnae fash, Faither. I am content."

With a sigh, Thomas let his hands fall from Lilith's shoulders and looked over his own at Cameron, as if he was silently asking for his help. Cameron, though, only gave a small shrug. Out of all the people her father could have asked for vocal support in a private matter such as this, Cameron was perhaps the least useful.

"Well?" Thomas prompted. "Tell her somethin'."

"What should I tell her, me laird?" Cameron asked. "I fear Lilith has already made up her mind."

Lilith only smiled at her father. "See?" she said. "He understands."

Much to her chagrin, her father's expression hardened, the way it always did when he had to force something on his daughters—reluctantly and with great effort. "There is naething else tae be done. The suitors are comin' an' ye must choose one o' them. Surely, ye'll find one who is tae yer likin'! There will be so many lads here. Ye can have anyone ye want."

Lilith had to resist the urge to roll her eyes once more, but she supposed it could be worse. Her father could be forcing her to marry someone she didn't want at all. At least now she had a choice, no matter how small.

An' if I'm lucky, perhaps I can avoid a husband entirely.

How she would do that, Lilith didn't yet know. She didn't have much time to find out, what with the suitors already being on their way to Stewart Castle, but perhaps there would be a chance for her to delay any betrothal until there was no interest left from the other side. Surely, not many suitors would be willing to wait so long, even for the Stewart heir.

"Fine," she said in the end, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. "I will welcome the suitors, Faither."

If anyone could handle a room of rowdy suitors, it was her.