Elinor squinted as she tried to pass the slate-colored silk thread through the eye of her needle. She had known this part of the tapestry—one of dozens that told their clan’s story throughout history—would be difficult. Why couldn’t she weave a meadow of bright flowers and soft blue skies instead of MacCameron Castle? Its muted hues were so hard to distinguish from one another. Or from the gray of this blasted needle.
As she examined the design, Elinor acknowledged that this piece, which she had worked on tirelessly for the past two years, inspired very little joy. She feared she was no longer capable of experiencing such an emotion while living within these walls, not after that small but delicious taste of freedom she had sampled before finding the redheaded girl in the woods.
To dwell on what she had lost would only bring heartache, so she would embroider. She would embroider and play the lute and direct the staff and do all the other things a proper princess was expected to do.
For now.
Elinor released a sigh as she returned her attention to the needle and thread. She squinted, trying to bring the needle’s slim eye into focus so she could pass the thread through it.
“Stop biting your lip.”
Elinor snapped to attention. She looked up to find her mother standing in the doorway to the drawing room.
Anyone who did not know Queen Catriona would assume her severe frown was a sign of unparalleled displeasure, but Elinor recognized it as her mother’s normal expression. The matriarch of Clan MacCameron was not known to smile, especially when in the presence of her only daughter.
“I apologize,” Elinor said. She straightened her spine, lest she give the queen something else to harp on. “I have encountered difficulties threading the needle.”
Her mother entered the room and snatched the silk thread and tapestry needle from Elinor’s hands. With precision, the queen inserted the delicate silk through the narrow eye on the first try.
“Maybe if you spent more time practicing your sewing instead of gallivanting around the countryside on that horse, you would be better at it.”
“I apologize,” Elinor said again. It was a frequent refrain, and it was never enough where her mother was concerned.
Queen Catriona looked down her regal nose at her. Elinor could only guess at what fault she found in her daughter that day.
“Tell me. Who is this girl you have brought into the castle?” her mother asked.
So, she had gotten word about Merida. Elinor had wondered how long it would take before the queen was informed. Her father had been apprised of Elinor’s return moments after she had entered the castle, along with word of the young girl with a head injury that she had found in the woods.
But she wondered how much Queen Catriona knew of the situation. Her mother was not usually privy to all the details her father received, something Elinor suspected was a bone of contention between the king and queen. After all, Elinor’s mother was the one of royal lineage, yet it was her father who had been given the authority to preside over the kingdom.
The practice galled her. If she were to ever serve as queen, Elinor would insist the rules change. She would demand to be an equal partner to her husband in the running of the kingdom.
Elinor answered her mother’s question: “The girl is of no importance. She was lost and injured. I could not leave her in the forest to fend for herself, not in the condition in which I found her.”
“You should not have been in the forest,” her mother snapped. “What were you doing there?”
“I took Alistair out for exercise,” Elinor lied. “There was too much activity in the bailey, so I decided to take him out for a ride in the woods. It was such a lovely morning, I lost track of the time.”
Her mother continued to stare at her with a look of singular disapproval. Elinor fought to keep herself from squirming.
“You are the future queen of this kingdom.” Queen Catriona began her oft-repeated diatribe. “You must conduct yourself as such. I have explained this to you on more than one occasion, Elinor. Princesses do not race their horses through the woods, and they certainly do not do so unaccompanied. What if you had been kidnapped?”
“But we are at peace—”
“Silence!” her mother hissed. “You are not so dim-witted as to believe that one of these clansmen would not make away with you if given the chance. Peace accords be damned.”
Her mother paused, seemingly to collect herself.
“It is not only rogue clansmen that pose a danger, Elinor. What if you had gotten lost or injured like this girl? Would you be able to get back to the castle on your own? What if…what if you had encountered Mor’du?” The queen’s voice shook with rarely displayed emotion. “The perils that could befall you are too numerous to name. You mustn’t put yourself in such danger again.”
Witnessing her mother’s concern for her was both surprising and rather comforting. Elinor did not doubt her mother’s love for her, but the queen meted it out as if it were rare gold coins.
“I will make better choices in the future,” Elinor promised.
Her mother’s expression returned to its usual frostiness.
“Must I also remind you that you are to be married soon?” her mother asked. “I will not be here to hold your hand and teach you how to be a queen forever, Elinor.”
Elinor put a hand to her stomach. Just the mention of her upcoming betrothal brought on a case of the vapors. She did not need her mother to remind her of what awaited her in the very near future, because it was all she could think about.
It was the reason she had to make her escape. And quickly.
She had been promised to the son of her father’s most loyal chieftain since birth, but to say Elinor abhorred her impending groom was putting it mildly.
Yet Elinor knew she could not allow anyone to see just how much she loathed the thought of marrying her betrothed. She had to let her parents think that she was still their dutiful daughter, ready and willing to go along with centuries of tradition.
“Reminders are not necessary. I am well aware of my betrothal.” She held out her palm. “May I please get back to my sewing?”
Elinor tried to keep her fingers from shaking as she returned to her tapestry, knowing the queen was watching her every move. She surreptitiously sucked in a deep breath as she pierced the fabric, then released, pulling the needle through. Her body remained tense, waiting for her mother to unleash more criticism.
But after several long, anxiety-riddled moments, Queen Catriona turned and walked out of the room without saying another word.
Elinor wilted the moment her mother cleared the doorway. She had survived another encounter with the queen unscathed.
Unscathed, but not unbothered.
Her mother made an important point about the dangers of the forest. Elinor was unsure how she would fare if any of the calamities the queen listed had occurred during her escape. Maybe she was not as prepared for the grueling journey south as she first thought.
But she knew someone who was.
Merida. Elinor had been shocked that a girl so young would have ventured into the forest on her own. And yet, what she had found even more shocking was how well Merida had survived her night in the woods. The girl had been able to build a fire and procure her own food, two skills Elinor did not possess but absolutely needed if she was going to be successful in her future escape.
A plan began to take shape.
Merida would be taken back to her clan once she recovered. If Elinor was allowed to accompany her, she would be able to use the journey as her means of escape. DunBroch’s lands were to the west of MacCameron, past a small mountain range. She could reach DunBroch, then head south.
Her shoulders slumped as reality settled in.
If her father discovered Merida was of Clan DunBroch, he would send word to the chieftain and request that the girl be retrieved as soon as possible. The king would not take the chance of sending her with his own men; if something happened to Merida while in MacCameron hands, it would break the delicately held peace alliance between their clans. The longer Merida remained here, the more of a liability she presented.
But that was only if anyone discovered that she was from DunBroch.
Elinor had to keep Merida’s identity a secret for her plan to work. It should not be all that difficult. Even the physician did not know. He had examined the knot on Merida’s forehead without removing Elinor’s shawl.
All they needed was a fortnight, maybe even less. That should be enough time. Merida possessed all the skills Elinor needed to learn to survive her journey to the Lowlands.
She just had to convince the girl to teach them to her.