Elinor took small bites of the fig cake Sorcha had placed in front of her. She usually enjoyed a sweet at the end of the evening meal, but mention of her betrothed had soured her appetite for anything other than being dismissed from the table. Elinor knew her parents meant well—they were focused on how to best prepare her for taking over the kingdom—but she could not commit every waking hour to obsessing over her noble duties, especially her impending marriage.
“I would assume the girl who sent the platter crashing to the floor is the girl you rescued,” her mother remarked.
“The girl she rescued? When did the girl you rescued become part of the kitchen staff?” her father asked.
“It is not important enough to trouble yourself with, Douglass.”
For once, Elinor was grateful to her mother for intervening. She was not prepared to discuss Merida with her father. He should not even know that she was still at MacCameron Castle. She was not supposed to have entered the Great Hall at all.
“It would appear that I will need to speak with Duncan,” the queen continued. “When I gave him permission to hire the girl, I thought she had experience in the kitchens.”
“’Tis likely just nerves on her part, Ma,” Elinor said. “I shall see about her.”
The queen lifted her goblet to her lips and took a sip before slowly placing it back on the table. All the while her gaze was focused directly on her daughter.
Elinor took several more bites, waiting until she would finally be excused. Once her father finished his cake and granted those at the table permission to leave, Elinor went through the ritual of setting aside her utensils, daintily dabbing at both corners of her mouth, and rising with grace from her chair, as her mother had taught her.
She fought the urge to hasten her steps as she calmly walked the length of the Great Hall, but the moment she cleared the door, Elinor hurried to the kitchens. She rounded the corner and nearly collided with a maid carrying a stack of copper pots.
“Forgive me,” Elinor called over her shoulder.
She navigated through the sea of people cleaning up the remnants of the night’s dinner.
“Princess Elinor?”
She stopped and turned at the sound of Aileen’s decidedly cool voice. She and Aileen had been friends when they were younger, but for the past few years Elinor had sensed a change in the girl’s attitude. She was never hostile, for no one would dare be hostile to the princess of MacCameron Castle, but she did not behave as the friend Elinor once knew.
“Is there something we can do for you, Princess?” Aileen asked.
“I was hoping to speak with Mer—the new girl,” Elinor said. “Is it the larder where she is working?”
Aileen’s expression hardened. It was only for a moment, but Elinor noticed the shift.
“She should be in the larder, but this Merida does not seem to think she must follow the same rules as the rest of the staff. I guess she thinks she is special. Maybe someone told her she was.”
Elinor straightened her spine. “I told the kitchens that Merida is not to be taxed. She suffered a head injury just a few days ago. If you have anything to say about it, direct it to Duncan and he shall direct it to me.”
Elinor would have to address the girl’s attitude with Duncan, but she did not have time to worry about Aileen. She had to speak to Merida.
Except Elinor realized she had no idea where to find the wet larder. This was the farthest she had ever stepped into the kitchens.
She refused to ask Aileen for assistance. Instead, she approached a maid wearing a scullery cap, but when the young girl turned around and saw who was calling on her, she froze like she had seen a ghost.
“There is no need for nervousness,” Elinor assured her. “I only want to know if—” Just then, Sorcha exited a room at the far end of the kitchens. “Sorcha,” Elinor called. Duncan’s sister would not cower. She pointed to the room the girl had just vacated. “Is Merida in there?”
“Yes, Princess,” Sorcha answered with a short curtsy. “Though she is…well, you will see when you get in there.”
If the queen had been around, she would have had something to say about Elinor’s graceless dash to the larder. She entered the freezing room and found Merida sitting with her back against the wall. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her head hung forward, braced against them.
“What is the matter here?” Elinor asked. “What happened back in the Great Hall?”
Merida lifted her head. “You are already betrothed?”
Elinor was confused by the unexpected question and the anguish in Merida’s voice. “Why are you so upset about my betrothal? I am the one who is being forced to marry.”
“But your betrothed—the king said he is of Clan Fraser? Why is he not of Clan DunBroch?”
“Clan DunBroch?” Elinor could not help herself; she burst into the most unladylike laughter. Her mother would have had an apoplexy if she had been standing there to witness it.
“I appreciate the lessons you are providing, lass, but thinking I would marry into your clan as payment is quite absurd.” Elinor’s eyes narrowed as understanding dawned. “Has this been your goal all along, to convince me to marry into Clan DunBroch? That is why you took me to their camp? Are you even injured, or has this been some sort of ruse?”
“That is far-fetched, Princess,” Merida said. “Think about what you are saying. How would I have known that you would be in the forest the day you found me?”
She was right. Merida could not possibly have known that Elinor had chosen that day to attempt her escape. And her injury had been tended to by the physician; he would have alerted Elinor if it had been feigned.
“It matters not,” Elinor said. “And what is far-fetched is the thought of me marrying a DunBroch. ’Tis a union that would never happen.”
“Why not?”
Elinor found her affront amusing. “Because the MacCamerons and the DunBrochs are sworn enemies. Wasn’t it obvious back at that camp?”
“But there is a peace alliance between the clans.”
“A fragile peace alliance,” Elinor emphasized. “The MacCamerons and DunBrochs will always be enemies.”
“Yet you brought me into your household?” Merida asked accusingly.
Elinor narrowed her eyes. “Should I have not?”
Merida released a frustrated sigh and pushed herself up from the floor. In a lowered voice, she said, “We should not discuss this here. I have only worked in these kitchens for a couple of days, but already I know that we should not say much around the other maids.”
“You are right,” Elinor said. “It is best we do not let anyone overhear us mentioning your clan’s name.”
Elinor turned to leave. She grabbed Merida by the hand, but then quickly let go.
“What is on your hand?” Elinor asked. “Why does it feel…hairy?”
“It is nothing.” Merida tucked her hands against her stomach. “Just a rash. I think I came in contact with a poisoned plant. Do not bother about my hand.” She looked over her shoulders. “Let us go. It is not just household gossip that worries me. I…I have an uneasy feeling about some who work in the kitchens.”
Elinor led Merida through the door to the right of the scullery, near the washbasin. Several maids were out and about, emptying dirty water onto the ground. They all stopped at the sight of the princess. They looked back and forth between Elinor and Merida with confused expressions.
“As you were,” Elinor instructed the maids. She peered over her shoulder and whispered to Merida, “Let us go to the south courtyard.”
Elinor led the way, guiding Merida to the colonnade of rhododendron. Once she was sure they were alone, she turned to her.
“Now, what is your issue with my upcoming betrothal?” Elinor asked.
“I do not understand why you are already promised when the Highland Games are not for a fortnight,” Merida answered. “Was there a competition prior to the games?”
“What does one have to do with the other?” Elinor asked, wondering if maybe the girl’s head injury was having lingering effects.
“How did you pick your betrothed, if not at the Highland Games? Did he not have to compete for your hand?”
“My betrothed has been chosen since shortly after my birth, Merida. ’Tis tradition that the eldest son—”
“Of each clan compete for your hand in marriage during the Highland Games!” Merida interjected. “Which means a member of Clan DunBroch would be eligible.”
“No.” Elinor shook her head. “I know nothing of this competition you speak of. Clansmen compete throughout the games, but my hand in marriage is certainly not a prize to be won. What kind of archaic nonsense is that?”
Merida’s jaws went slack. She stared at Elinor, as if she could not understand the concept of a birthright betrothal.
“So you are really betrothed to this man? This man from Clan Fraser?”
“The betrothal will be officially announced at the Highland Games, as is tradition in the year the princess turns ten and nine. I am not sure why this comes as such a shock to you,” Elinor said. “The same is done at Clan DunBroch, is it not?”
Merida shook her head. “No, that is not how it is done at all.” She began to pace again, walking back and forth between the hedges and reminding Elinor of herself. She paced whenever she had to think hard about something. “If who you are to marry has already been decided, then I…I do not know what I am going to do.”
“You make no sense, Merida,” Elinor said. “Perhaps you should get some rest.”
She stopped and stared at Elinor with wide, shocked eyes, as if Elinor had caught her off guard.
“Uh…you are right,” Merida said. She put a hand to her head. “I am feeling unwell. I believe I will retire for the night.”
“You should,” Elinor said. “I fear your injury may be worse than we first thought. I shall ask the physician to visit you.”
“No!” Merida shouted. “No, I just need rest. Please. Just rest and to not be disturbed for the rest of the night.”
Elinor did her best to ignore the uneasy feeling in her gut as she nodded.
“As you wish.”