Year of Corwaithe 1231

Evermoor was known in Meerdora to be a mountain castle. However, it was neither. The fortress was a giant rock; a long, wide, flat, hollowed-out rock with weird white-wood paned windows. Not tall, but exceptionally wide and it certainly didn’t have a snowy peak like a mountain.

Where a castle had spacious rooms with beautiful windows, fireplaces or even a large dining hall for people to gather, her home didn’t have any of it. Evermoor reminded Irie more of a troll cave – a dark, hollow, brooding cave with an ominous desolate feel. And somehow, a person thought it brilliant to hollow out a rock and call it a castle.

Apparently, no one gave the man the proper definition of castle or mountain, Irie mused. Evermoor might be remote, but it’s accessible and is certainly not juttin’ out of the ground. A castle it most definitely is not.

She basked in the morning sun, on the large landing of smooth stone outside the castle entrance. Twenty feet from her was the enormous oaken door leading inside the ‘mountain’. She stayed to the left of the door, in the sunlight and away from the monsters inside. A large window was set above the door leading inside. More windows were around the sides of the door, helping to let in light. But the best light for reading was outside.

Irie laid on her blanket on top of the rocky ground, her nose stuck in a book. She had successfully avoided her three older brothers this morning, along with her mother, Diedra. Those lovely four people seemed to always be mad at her over something. Irie avoided her family like one would avoid the bite of a rabid animal, or even a more terrifying plague.

Her father, Horace, ignored everything going on around him and whatever it pertained to. As he so often said—I dinna care. It showed in his appearance with his sloppy, unkempt beard and tattered clothes; the way he conducted business in and around the keep, how he ran the castle with lack of care to the people in it and who resided in its domain. Horace wanted no part in it. He left it all alone to anyone who cared to pick up the slack, which was her.

Her mother, Deidra, would habitually start her day by picking on Irie for who she happened to be. Deidra wanted her to be like other girls – loved gowns, boys, flirted or was beautiful. Irie wasn’t like other girls and Deidra made sure to remind her of it constantly by comparing her to anyone in the castle or surrounding areas who was more gorgeous or proper than she.

Irie shrugged, wriggling on the blanket and rereading the paragraph she just read. She didn’t think highly of herself. In fact, if she was honest, she didn’t find herself beautiful or intelligent. Irie thought of herself as this mediocre woman, wandering around, trying to find the person she thought herself to be. But she didn’t know what she wanted to be other than a better person than her family.

Irie closed her eyes, hanging her head. She snapped her book shut, unable to focus. No one was ever going to love her for who she was. Except her dog Godfrey and he was only going to be around for so long until the Goddess called him home.

Godfrey wandered around Irie, sniffing and watching the castle. He saddled up beside her, laying on the blanket by her feet. Irie opened her book back up, sinking into the story that kept her from reality.

She sighed, patting her dog on the head. “Good boy,” she praised her faithful companion.

Godfrey, books and hope were what kept her going most days. On this particular day, it was a book. Hope was lost when she exited her chamber earlier this morning and her mother was right there to complain about what she supposedly ruined in the garden.

“Readin’ again?” Wallace came up to her. “Like it makes ye smart!”

Irie didn’t look up at him. If she ignored him, he would eventually go away. If she replied, he would tell their mother and she would receive a lashing, verbal or otherwise. Irie focused her eyes harder on the page until the words bled together.

“Yer very rude, Eyesore!” Wallace got down and screamed in her ear.

Irie flinched but tried not to move.

Wallace grabbed the book out of her hands. “Mum dinna like ye. Da only tolerates ye. I dinna like ye either.” He closed the book and tossed it away, striding away in a different direction.

She sighed gratefully, more than pleased Wallace left her alone. Irie got up to retrieve her book. She looked at the sun hanging in the sky announcing noon. She decided to read for a little longer. If she read past the noon meal, she could avoid her mother in her solar room and her father in his study.

As the sun waned past, Irie picked up her history book and her blanket, making her way through the castle to her room at the far end of her home, way in the back corner. She opened the brightly polished door, allowing Godfrey to go first. Irie walked through rows of tables and benches quietly like a mouse.

It was typically how she got around the castle – quiet and stealthily. Most would call it sneaky, however to Irie, it was a strategy to avoid certain people. She held her breath, hoping it would make her footsteps lighter.

She paused as she heard her father yelling at her brothers. Whatever her brothers did, had their father in a raging uproar. Horace screamed at them, calling her brothers deviants, perverts, rude, abhorrent young men. Her jaw popped open; a wide grin split her face as Horace doled out their punishments.

It was a once in a lifetime moment Irie stopped to savor. Irie glanced down the hallway to where they were. Horace loomed over her brothers, smacking them for what they had done and giving them a thorough verbal lashing.

Irie smirked, about time they got caught peeping on lassies.

Her mother saw her smirking. Face impassive, Irie picked up her pace, heading to her room faster. Irie went to the hallway at the very back of Evermoor on the right-hand side. It was a narrow hallway, where two people could fit through side by side although cramped. Her room was at the end of the hallway on the right.

Irie opened her chamber door, setting her book down at her desk. She neatly folded her blanket, putting it over the back of her chair. Godfrey stood behind her, but that was how he always was. Godfrey always had her back.

The afternoon sun glowed brightly through her bedroom window. She looked outside and smiled.

“Irie!” her mother announced in her high-pitched shrieking voice.

Irie turned around, facing her mother with a passive face. “Aye, Mum?”

“Where were ye today, around noonin’?”

“Readin’.”

“Readin’ where?”

Irie knew where this was heading. Her mother was getting ready to blame her for her brother’s getting caught, more than likely snooping on women at the pond again or for catching snakes and sticking them in old Wilma’s hut.

“Out front where I always read,” Irie replied.

Deidra nodded slowly, looking at her like a snake, ready to squeeze the life from her. “Really?”

Irie didn’t say a word. Whatever she would reply would have repercussions. Godfrey growled.

“Yer lyin’,” Deidra seethed. “I know yer lyin’. Yer a liar and a sneaky wee bitch. I will find out the truth. When I do, it wilna go well for ye.”

Irie didn’t say a word. Deidra stormed out of her room, slamming the door shut. She waited for her mother to disappear down the hallway before she exited her room. Her mother would most likely head to her solar where she spent hours doing whatever Goddess knows what, but she left her alone at least.

Irie walked out of her room, heading to the dining hall to help set up for the evening meal. Servants were already out, handling the other tables. Irie picked up a rag, wiping down the tops and the bench seat. She scurried around the tables, wiping them off and setting them with fresh dining ware. Going into the kitchen, she washed the remaining dishes and helped to bring out baskets of rolls for the freshly set tables. Tabitha brought in flowers from the garden to set on the high table.

Irie spied her mother out of the corner of her eye, heading her way. Irie moved on the other side of the table to where her brother Keefe was eating a roll, hoping his size would shield her. Irie’s heart thundered in her ears as her mother’s footfalls tapped on the stone floor, passing her by. Letting out a breath, Irie hurriedly made her way to her room with her task now completed, shutting her chamber door as soon as she came inside.

A note was sitting on her desk. Irie smiled and rolled her eyes. Only her father loved to leave notes. He even had notes for his notes as he often forgot what he was doing in the moment or supposed to complete later. Irie walked over to her desk, sitting down on the smooth wooden seat. Gingerly, she opened the parchment and began reading.

Irie sighed irritably. The Dristaen’s from Rathos were coming for a visit. Irie tilted her head. But why Rathos? she mused, her lips pursing at the thought. It’s a long way to travel and there are other castles which are closer.

The people of Rathos were not their neighbors at all. In fact, their closest neighbors were either Brocleigh, Flowermoss, or Veiled Hills. Even Drensent in Euainley was closer than Rathos.

Och, by Corwaithe, it’s goin’ to be an interestin’ night.

Irie glanced out her window scowling. The double iron gates opened slowly inward, allowing admittance to the Rathos king and his sons. The three men in front sat tall in their saddles, all wearing the same bright blue tunics. A contingent of at least twenty men were behind them all riding the same dun-colored horses.

Her portly father was out greeting them with a smile. Her mother was also there, waving wildly. Deidra went toward the laird and his two sons, swaying her hips as she walked.

Irie rolled her eyes, sighing crossly. Her mother was already making a fool of herself to the Rathos Laird, Cecil Dristaen. Deidra twirled the ends of her hair, smiling as she offered her arm to the just dismounted guest. The other two men followed their father and her spectacle of a mother.

Knocking sounded on her door. Irie felt her skin prickle.

“Irie,” Keefe called through the cracks in her door. “Get ready quick.”

Irie grumbled under her breath, “And here we go.”

She heard her mother’s high-pitched voice before she ever saw her. The woman got louder and louder with each syllable she spoke; her laugh more nasally and voice, shriller. Deidra couldn’t stand to not be the center of attention.

Two servants stood at either side of the large oaken door, pulling it open as soon as they saw Deidra through the glass. The open doors allowed in the last remnants of light from the spring day. Deidra had her head thrown back in laughter as Cecil Dristaen forced a somewhat awkward smile to his aged face.

Another man came in behind Cecil. His lip slightly curled upward as he took in the rock home. He brushed down the sleeves of his tunic, watching the floor as he walked. The other man behind the arrogant one, came in, with a passive face. He neither smiled nor frowned. He had short spikey red hair sticking out at odd, busy, and unkempt angles. The color of his bright blue eyes was enhanced by the color of his tunic.

“Irie,” her mother bellowed. “Mind yer manners! Dip a curtsey.” Irie did as she was told as her mother mumbled to Cecil, “Sometimes I wonder about her.”

“Is she daft?” Cecil asked with a pitying glance in her direction.

“Nay, she’s exceedingly smart, just socially inept.”

Horace sat at the end of the table, pouring himself a large cup of whiskey. Irie was starting to wish she could have some too. Brock, Wallace, and Keefe came out from the wash rooms cleaned up and fresh. The brothers came to the table, merrily speaking to one another like they were the best of friends. Her brothers shook hands with their guests, smiling, and becoming acquainted. Cecil seemed utterly relieved others were showing up as Deidra’s attention waned.

Irie smirked.

Shaun Dristaen, with the spikey red hair, was the same age as her eldest brother Brock, which was twenty-one. The other, Shaun’s older brother Aiden, was thirty. Aiden glanced around, a sneer plastered on his face as if he was superior and more sophisticated than anyone else. Irie rolled her eyes, trying to seem inconspicuous.

Everyone took a seat at the high table with the Lairds on either end. Deidra, instead of sitting with her husband, decided to sit to Cecil’s left. Irie’s three brothers sat across the table from their mother.

Irie was the only one left standing. She peered around the dining hall, spying a moved place setting at the table behind them. Awkwardly she took a seat, her heart beat thrumming wildly. No one took notice, which was fine with her. It would give her an opportunity to read. Carefully, Irie brought out her book as the conversations started. Irie felt in her bones nothing short of a wild spectacle would be happening tonight and she wanted to be as silent and unremarkable as possible.

“So, tell me,” Deidra began, leaning in toward Cecil, stroking the back of his hand, “what is Rathos truly like?”

“Well,” Cecil began.

“Plain,” Aiden replied, taking a sip of ale. He turned slightly in his seat. “It is plain. Rolling hills, no trees, few towns. Plain.”

“It’s wide open for grazing the herds,” Cecil added.

“Fascinating!” Deidra replied.

Irie snorted. Deidra turned in her seat and glared. Irie turned in her seat, bending down to pet Godfrey as she silently laughed.

Food was brought out and the conversation about Rathos stopped, at least for a few quiet moments. However, Aiden decided to speak about a great holleristo deer kill last week which ended in a great bounty and a magnificent trophy head. The talk about the kill silenced Deidra for a few bleak moments. Deidra began asking Cecil of his great kills. To Aiden’s displeasure, the conversation came off him.

Keefe got up from the table, moving his wooden plate of food and goblet to her table. Their mother, thankfully, didn't notice. Keefe smiled at her, passing her his goblet of ale. Irie took a sip, mouthing her gratitude.

Wallace was being abominably disgusting making horrible noises and strange faces to match. His riotous laughter filling the rock home though he was the only one laughing.

Dear Corwaithe, please end this nightmare, she thought.

Irie moved her hair over to the side of her face, using her left hand to shield her humiliation. With each syllable spoken by her family, her discomfort only grew. It was so awkward, so forced. Everything about this meeting or meal, whatever this was, happened to be the worst she had experienced thus far in her life.

“Is this over yet?” Irie mumbled to herself.

“I wish,” Keefe whispered his reply.

Irie ran a hand over her face as her right leg decided to bounce under the table. She brought her book out in an attempt to ignore her family’s disgraceful behavior. She looked up momentarily, catching the eye of Shaun. She smiled at him. He smiled back and her cheeks flamed.

Shaun was by far her favorite out of the group of visiting men. He was four years older than she, but acted more of a laird in terms of his level headedness. He was polite and responded kindly. She appreciated listening to his thoughtful responses. It was a kind change from what she was used to. Quickly, Irie went back to her book.

“For Corwaithe’s sake, Deidra,” Horace yelled, standing up out of his chair. He pointed his gnarled finger at his wife. “Ye bloody whore! Have ye no shame in what yer doing?”

Deidra leaned back with a hand on her chest. “I’m only bein’ friendly, husband. I’m tryin’ to be a good hostess.”

Horace threw his cup across the dining hall, shattering it against the stone wall. Red faced, he bellowed curses at his wife about how awful and dishonorable she was being. Horace threw his chair, spun on his heel and stormed outside.

Without missing a beat, Deidra continued her conversation about flowers. How she loved them so much, she could roll in them like she did as a child. This weird conversation about flowers droned on with Cecil staring at his plate of food and downing several goblets of ale.

Irie put her elbows on the table, ducking her head with her hands on her forehead as she laughed.

“Och, I just love flowers,” her mother said again.

Irie put a hand over her mouth. Keefe caught her eye.

“So, you’ve said,” Aiden replied tersely.

Deidra glared. “D’ye no’ like flowers?”

Aiden strummed his fingers on the polished wooden table. “My wife says I pick her the best flowers.” Aiden jutted his chin as a smile played across his lips. “My wife adores me. No one else can compare.”

Irie put a hand over her mouth.

“I bet he can even fart flowers,” Keefe whispered to her.

Irie turned and heaved with silent laughter. She could feel her face turning bright red. She picked up the book she brought and began reading it again, trying her best to ignore everyone around her though she was not getting any progress made.

“Och, I ken—” Keefe began again.

Irie waved her hand at Keefe, wishing him to stop with his wit.

The bench squeaked beside her. “Hi,” Shaun said.

Irie’s smile was wiped clean from her face. She looked at him surprised. “Hello,” she replied.

“I’m Shaun.”

“I’m Irie. It’s a pleasure to meet ye,” she responded politely, extending her hand.

Shaun took it and shook it. Eventually he dropped it, allowing her to go back to her book. Her hand felt like it was on fire at his gentle touch. His blue eyes met her own and she swallowed.

She didn’t want to speak to him. Corwaithe only knows what her mother would say about it if she caught her talking. Irie fidgeted in her seat. She went back to reading, ignoring Shaun.

“No readin’ at the table,” Deidra grouched at her.

Irie quickly put the book down.

“What are you reading?” Shaun questioned.

“The history of language of the Orthilioans,” she replied, holding up the book for him to see.

Shaun’s eyes widened. “You can speak that?”

“Aye.”

Shaun shook his head in disbelief. “Not many come back from that strange place.”

Irie shrugged. “Just because something is different, dinna means it’s scary or strange. Plus,” Irie continued, “mayhap they dinna want to be found or in fact, they like it there.”

Shaun tilted his head, smiling at her thoughtful statement. “You read a lot?”

Irie nodded, secretly opening her book again. “Aye, I love readin’.”

“You should come to Rathos, Irie,” Shaun told her. “We have lots of books; an entire library from floor to ceiling and wall to wall.”

Irie perked up. “I would like it very much,” she said smiling brightly. “Thank you, Shaun.”

“By Corwaithe, Irie,” her mother said disgusted, “Must ye flirt with anythin’ that has a phallus? Ye wee whore. I’m utterly ashamed of such a disgraceful daughter.”

Irie closed her eyes, her face heating from embarrassment. Irie excused herself from the table, making a straight line for the library on the other side of the castle. Godfrey was hot on her heels. Once she was certain she was out of sight, Irie ran the rest of the way. When inside, she slammed the door behind her and threw the lock.

Irie leaned up against the solid wooden door, sighing with relief. She felt safe in here. Biting her bottom lip, she wondered if the men from Rathos would ever leave. She leaned her head against the door frame and sighed, willing her heart to quiet and her eyes not to cry. Irie stomped her foot.

They have to be here for masons. It’s the only reason any person or clan deals with Evermoor because of who my family is.

Irie walked over to the wood stove and lit a fire. She left the door cracked as she watched the smoke filter out the long-tunneled tube leading directly outside. She sat down in a cushioned chair with a book in hand. Distracted, she couldn’t find it in herself to read, so she snuggled down in her chair for the night.

Irie unlocked the door as quietly as she could. She stepped one foot slightly out the door, poking her head around the door frame. She needed to use the privy. With her mother sometimes lurking, Irie wanted to see if she was waiting.

With fox-like stealth, she tiptoed her way down the corridor. Irie hugged the wall as she picked her way to the privy beside the kitchen. Only when Irie entered and the privy door shut behind her, did she let out a sigh of relief.

It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit washroom with a lone candle next to the wash basin. Irie washed her hands, careful not to look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t like mirrors. In a mirror, Irie saw all the imperfections her mother saw in her. Mirrors brought out her flaws. Irie didn’t care to see them. But curiosity pulled at her.

Irie scowled at herself, then smiled. A young woman stared back at her. Her once glossy mouse brown hair was now darker, like the color of an oiled leather boot. Her once vibrant blue eyes were also darker like the color of a dying hydrangea flower. She cocked her head to the side, contemplating on how she looked.

She wasn’t ugly. Then again, she wasn’t gorgeous either. She wasn’t fat or as fat as her mother told her she was. Her face was oval shaped coming down to a small chin. Her eyebrows were as dark as her hair, arched and surprisingly looked as if freshly plucked.

Irie grimaced. She didn’t think this was the face of an ugly person. Curious, Irie smiled at herself. Her teeth were somewhat straight and white. Her eye tooth was still crooked. However, her bottom two teeth did not go as badly inward as before.

“I’m no’ a snaggletooth,” she said quietly to herself. “I’m no’… shamefully ugly.”

Irie felt the skin on her face. It was smooth. She looked down at the basin then glanced up with a first real genuine smile. She wasn’t ugly at all. Tears stung her eyes.

Yer more than ye ever realized. Yer more than what ye truly think ye are. I am more.

Uncertain of her feelings, Irie left. She called for Godfrey, taking him out for his morning stroll. They walked in tandem together, heading up the backside of the larger of the Double Back Mountains. Irie glanced up as she approached the trail, wondering who decided to call it a mountain, as it was more of a large hill.

“Good morning, Irie,” Shaun said as she rounded the corner.

Irie stared at him blankly. “Good mornin’, Shaun,” she replied.

“It’s a good morning for a walk, aye?” Shaun smiled.

She stood in her spot; her head dipped. “Aye, it’s a beautiful day.”

Shaun looked at her somewhat remorsefully. “Don’t listen to your mother.”

“I try no’ to.”

Her brows furrowed as she looked back at him, then at her best friend. Godfrey wasn’t growling at him, so Shaun must be all right. She looked back over her shoulder at Shaun coming casually down the hillside toward her.

He was tall and handsome. His red spikey hair was mussed and unkept from sleep. It was also a tad long. His eyes were bluer than hers and every bit as sparkling as light hitting water. His body almost tripled hers in width. However, she liked the fact he was on the shorter side. She wasn’t very tall herself.

Shaun grinned. “Well, we will be leaving on the morrow,” he said nonchalantly. “My father got his stone masons.”

“I figured it was what ye were here for.”

“Aye,” Shaun paused. “It’s said Evermoor has the best stone masons.”

Irie smiled at him. He came close to her, standing about two feet away.

Irie tucked in her bottom lip. “That we do. I’m very proud of them all and my clan.”

“It is beautiful out here.”

Irie nodded, glancing around. “Aye, it’s bonnie.”

“Rathos has rolling lush green hills going on for miles. Sometimes there is a tree, but mainly grass.”

Irie smiled. “There’s nothin’ wrong with that. There’s beauty in all things.”

Shaun nodded, staring at her. “Indeed. I hope you have a good day, Irie.”

“I hope the same for ye, Shaun,” she said, watching him walk back down the hill.

Taking her time, she strolled the trail she walked every morning before making the decision to go back inside. Irie calmly walked through the dining hall, going to her room. She gently shut the door behind her as Godfrey came loping in behind her. She looked around her room, finding it devoid of all her beloved books. Her bed, desk, and chest remained. Every book she had was gone.

Tears welled in her eyes as a knock came at her door. She patted her eyes dry quickly and answered the shiny oak door. Her mother stood in front of her dressed in her finest, her hair neatly coiffed at the nape of her neck. Her chin jutted high as her eyes gleamed. She clasped her hands in front of her as she entered.

Yer more than ye ever realized, she thought to herself again. Yer more than what ye truly think ye are. Dinna let her words get to ye for they’re no’ true. Yer no’ that way. Yer no’ that way, Irie.

“Wonderin’ where yer stuff is?”

Irie didn’t say anything.

“Yer goin’ to live with Nelia in the village,” Deidra said. “I canna have ye embarrassin’ our family like ye did last night by yer constant laughter and yer abrupt departure.”

Irie felt her blood boil. “I’m no’ the embarrassment, mother.”

Deidra slapped her across the face. “How dare ye!” she growled. “After everythin’ I do for ye! After all I have given ye. This is the thanks I get!”

Irie laughed. “Ye dinna even like me, as ye have so thoughtfully reminded me over the years. But I’m no’ the one who embarrassed our family last night.”

“Everyone could hear ye laughin’!”

Irie put her hands on her hips, chortling. “How could I no’ when ye throw yerself at a man. Yer married to Da.”

“I want ye out of here,” Deidra seethed.

“Why? Ye have taken everythin’ from me already.”

“Ye need to learn yer lesson – ye canna disrespect this family.”

“Nay, Mum,” Irie said with her arms crossed.

“Aye, yer leavin’!”

Irie shook her head. She didn’t want to say anything more to her mother. It was clear this battle was one sided. She would lose because her mother was Queen. Irie had no standing at all.

Deidra started to cry. “I love ye, Irie,” she began, sobbing uncontrollably as she hugged her daughter. “I wish ye liked me enough to love me. I wish ye knew everythin’ I do, I do for ye. I only want the very best for ye. Can ye no’ see it?”

Irie stood there awkwardly, as her mother sobbed on her shoulder. She didn’t know what to say to the conniving, manipulative woman. She didn’t believe for one second, what her mother said was true. Irie patted Deidra awkwardly on the back.

Deidra sobbed harder. “I just want ye to be grateful. I want ye to love me, but ye dinna. I dinna understand it,” she stood up, wiping her eyes.

Irie looked at her mother shocked.

“I canna stand ye when ye act like such a reckless whore, Irie,” Deidra continued. “So, yer livin’ with Nelia for a bit so ye can see the grass is no’ always greener on the other side.”

Irie truly had no clue what her mother was talking about. Deidra pulled away from her. Irie silently walked past her mother, tapping her side for Godfrey to follow.

“While yer gone,” her mother said drying her eyes, “I want ye to think really hard about how much yer father and I do for ye. And how ye can behave better in the future.”

Irie glanced back at her mother confused. Shaking her head, she strode out her chamber door. She was amazed at her mother’s dramatic and abrupt change of personality.

Somethin’ has to be wrong with the woman, Irie thought.

She looked back over her shoulder to glance at her crying mother when she accidentally plowed right into Aiden Dristaen.

Irie quickly recovered her composure. “I’m very sorry, milaird,” she told the man with her head bowed.

Aiden raised a brow as he dusted himself off. He gave a booming laugh as his chest stuck out. “You’re not the first nor the last woman to do it,” he said with a flashy smile.

Irie raised a brow. She excused herself, walking away quickly. She hung her head as she walked out of the corridor, making her way outside. She sat on the steps outside, contemplating on what to do next.

Her mother was sitting in her solar, entertaining King Dristaen. Shaun was also sitting, hands in his lap as he politely listened to Deidra. Aiden stared out the window biting his cheek.

Irie waited by the door, patiently waiting to be seen by her mother. She knew this ploy by her mother, for each time someone visited, she had done the same thing – remove her belongings, tell her to go live somewhere or with someone, then wait for an apology to shame her. It was always the same routine.

Whatever truly happened to her belongings, Irie knew not. Her mother provided her a bed and two dresses a year, anything else in her room she bought for herself through hard work and saving up the coin it took to buy it. Sometimes Keefe would gift her a piece of furniture, though mostly, Irie provided for herself.

Her insides churned as her mother caught her eye. Deidra walked over gracefully. Her face twisted in pure smugness. Irie straightened her dress, wiping the sweat off her hands. Her heart beat fast. Irie closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm herself from the storm her mother was going to bring.

“Yes, Irie?” she said in a condescending tone, loud enough for the others to hear.

Irie came in closer to her mother to whisper an apology, “I’m sorry for what I said to ye earlier,” she said as politely as she could, while adding a smile for good measure.

“Oh?”

Godfrey growled. Irie flushed red.

“I see what yer doin’, lass,” Deidra smiled sharply.

Irie kept a straight face as the three men in the room stared at her. Aiden scoffed at her, taking the invisible attention away from him. Shaun kept his face down, staring at the floor. His fingers strummed against his leg while his lips pressed themselves in a thin line.

“I hope ye can accept my apology,” Irie said, retreating to the door.

“Nay,” her mother growled. “Get back here!”

Irie came back in front of her mother. “Aye?”

“I dinna want ye in the keep. I will allow ye to stay in the keep.”

Irie bowed her head low. “Thank ye.”

“On one condition,” a flashy smile creased her mother’s lips. “Yer a servant now,” Deidra said, her hands clasped happily in front of her. “Ye serve me and this keep.”

“Aye,” Irie replied, though she already worked in the keep.

“Och Irie,” her mother chastised, playing with the ends of Irie’s hair. Deidra caressed her face like a gentle mother as she said, “It’s no’ my fault yer constantly embarrassin’ yerself. Yer so socially awkward. Yer embarrassin’ to be around. Yer a disgraceful foolish whore. And for Corwaithe’s sake, dinna ye care about yer appearance lass?” Her mother pinched the bridge of her nose. “Och Irie… change yer shameful self.”

Shaun got up, excusing himself as he came to the door. He looked at her with a pained expression. Without a moment’s hesitation, Irie turned on her heel and left. She stopped when she got to the end of the corridor. She looked toward the entrance of the keep, at the long row of windows above the thick wooden doors going off into the outside world.

“Irie,” Shaun called.

She looked behind her to see Shaun jogging toward her. “Aye Shaun?” she asked, choking on her words.

Without a sound, Shaun enveloped her in his arms. Irie stood there awkwardly for a moment. She hesitantly wrapped her arms around his torso. More than anything, she wanted to cry. She needed this embrace more than she could ever express; not ever having been held like this.

She felt like a dunce of a woman, always reading or helping in the keep. She had no personality, not much of anything to make a man want her. And here she was, losing herself in her own misery of tears, being held by someone.

Irie sucked in a breath.

“Irie,” Shaun said, pulling her back, “you’re not an embarrassment. You’re not what your mother says.”

Irie looked at him. He smiled at her as he wiped at her tears with gentle strokes of his thumb.

“Thank,” she paused. “Thank ye, Shaun. Excuse me.”

Irie turned, going out the large oaken doors. Looking around the castle grounds, Irie took off. Her feet flying as she made her way to the nearby woods. She needed to get away from everyone. She didn’t want Shaun’s sympathy or anyone else’s. What she wanted was unconditional love from another person. For anyone else to love her besides her dog.

Irie ran until the forest’s edge came to rest under her feet. With a deep breath, she walked inside the dense green woodland. Her feet crunched ferns, broken twigs and old leaves. She walked until she could no longer see any part of the castle. And she felt safe not being able to see the confining stone prison.

She sat on a moss-covered log, bringing her knees to her chest and sobbed. She didn’t know what in this lifetime she did wrong, only she wished she had a mother who loved her. She wished anyone loved her. How in stories, where love came softly, unspoken and gentle.

I’m more than this and more than my name, she thought. Her eyes followed birds flying across the heavens. I will be better for myself and for my clan. I need to be strong. She closed her eyes, savoring the stillness around her and the peace she felt. I am more, she thought with a smile.

“Irie,” a voice echoed through the woods.

She looked behind her; spying Brock and Keefe coming her way. “What d’ye want?” she whined, drying her eyes.

“I wanted to see if yer alright,” Brock replied.

Irie snorted, not believing it for a second. “I’m fine,” she sniffed. “Like ye would ever care.”

Brock shrugged. “I know Mum dinna likes ye but I also dinna like how yer treated for it neither.”

“Ye seemed to like it just fine for years,” Irie retorted.

“Aye, I did,” her elder brother admitted. “People change Irie. I have always been honest with ye even if I were an arse about it.”

“I’m sorry, Irie,” Keefe added. “I always knew she treated ye different. I dinna pay much attention, and I’m sorry.”

Irie wiped her eyes. “No’ much can be done about it, aye?”

Her brothers shook their heads.

“Come sis,” Keefe said, taking her hand. “Let’s get yer books back, and yer violin thing and everythin’ else Mum took.”

“Speakin’ of book,” Brock said, handing her a book with a ribbon tied in a bow around it. “This is for ye.”

Irie moved the ribbon down so she could see the title. “How to Write Calligraphy, the Art of the Goddess,” Irie said, sucking in a breath. “Och, Brock,” she smiled, hugging her tall older brother. “Thank ye very much!”

“I want ye to learn it so ye can write all my letters for me when I’m Laird,” he laughed.

“Only if ye buy me a new book per letter,” she replied, smiling.

Brock wrapped an arm around her. “Deal, wee sister. I love ye Irie. I may no’ have ever said it much, but I love ye a lot.”

“I love ye too,” Keefe added.

Irie smiled, stopping mid-stride. She wrapped her arms around them both. “I love ye too.”

Brock took her hand, snuggling it into the crook of his arm as he led the way back home. The castle came into view faster than what she would have liked to see.

Irie stopped. Her hands began to get clammy. She felt her insides flutter as anxiety overwhelmed her. Brock set a hand on her back.

“It will be alright,” Brock told her. “Nothin’ will happen this time, I promise.”

“Aye,” Keefe agreed. “Mum wilna do a thing.”

Irie didn’t believe them. For years it seemed she was an annoying weed in her family’s perfect garden of roses. She was the weed no one could ever get rid of. So, any promises made to her, made Irie feel angry and doubtful. She learned not to put stock in anyone’s words. Actions spoke louder.

“I dinna know if I can believe ye,” Irie said truthfully, approaching the castle gate.

She looked at her tall older brother who was the spitting image of their father. His soft blue eyes met hers and he smiled. The short cropping of almost black hair cast a protective shadow over his face in the fading light.

Brock nodded his head, sighing as they walked through the open gate. “I know. I will protect ye this time all right?” he said.

Irie nodded anyway. She stopped just inside the door to the castle, peering around cautiously for her mother to be lurking somewhere. She looked around not only for her mother, but for Wallace as well. Both of them were miserable to deal with.

She breathed in deep, reassuring herself of the confidence she felt out in the forest. I am more, she thought, feeling invigorated.

“It will be alright, Irie,” Brock assured, patting her shoulder.

Irie walked toward the dining table, sitting in the exact same spot as last night. However, for her, this night was different. As she went to sit down, Brock and Keefe sat down across from her. Her eyes widened in surprise. A wide smile creased her lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Her brothers dipped their head to her. She sat at the low table, merrily chatting with them as plates of food were brought out. It was a treasured moment for her, learning about what her brothers were up to. Brock was corresponding with Brett Flornistas about going for a visit while Keefe was learning how to forge weapons.

Irie turned her head at something catching her eye and cringed. Her mother came out in a low-cut dress, revealing the tops of her breasts, almost to her nipples. Deidra sat regally in her seat with her back to Irie. Her hair was freshly curled, hanging over her right shoulder. The gown she wore was made of peach colored silk, making her look sickly pale.

Irie internally groaned and rolled her eyes. Godfrey hid under the table, showing his teeth in his doggie smile.

“Irie!” her mother exclaimed.

Irie tried not to look displeased.

“Where have ye been all afternoon?”

“With me, Mum,” Brock answered.

“Oh,” she replied, turning back to her flirtations with Cecil.

Irie breathed out heavily. “Thank ye, Brock.”

He shrugged. “It’s the least I can do for ye.”

Brock announced he would be leaving tomorrow to go to Flowermoss. He wanted to establish better ties with their ally and find a bride. Irie couldn’t believe she would ever think this but she was going to be upset to see him leave.

Shaun came and joined Brock at the table, asking if he could come along to Flowermoss. Shaun also desired to establish better ties with the clans of Meerdora and Brock welcomed the idea.

Irie looked over, watching Wallace make his way, stumbling down the hallway. At times, he would pick up his feet so high as if stepping over something large.

“Wallace,” her mother happily called in her shrieking voice, “come here and sit with me.”

She couldn’t place the feeling she suddenly felt. With the Dristaen’s leaving on the morrow along with her older brother, something felt incredibly different. It was as if something ominous was brewing and about to thunderclap over her head. Whatever was going to happen, she prayed nothing was going to get too bad.

Irie gathered plates in the dining hall from the morning meal and took them to the kitchen to wash. The Dristaen’s left shortly after the meal finished and Brock left for Flowermoss with Shaun before it ever began. Her brother couldn’t seem to escape Evermoor fast enough. Though she couldn’t blame Brock or the Dristaen’s for wanting to escape her family.

Irie picked up a wet cloth and began scrubbing all the dishes from the morning meal and the crockery used to make it. The emotions of the morning along with the craziness of the few moment’s prior was starting to wear on her. Part of her wanted to laugh at it all. The other part of her wanted to cry.

The storm she felt last night was coming to fruition and she couldn’t stop it. She could only endure and pray she could help see her clan through it. How her clans people stuck around, she didn’t know. Irie prayed she could do more to help them.

Irie put the plates on a clean towel to dry as she picked up forks to wash. She heard a commotion, clashing and a large bang.

She sighed irritably. “What more could there be?” Irie said out loud, dropping the forks in the soapy water.

Irie rounded the corner leading to the dining hall, drying her hands on a towel. With a gasp, she dropped her towel, taking in the chaos. Wallace loomed over Keefe with a bloody ax in his hand. Horace was sitting, drinking deeply into his cup like nothing was amiss while her mother was hunched over Keefe.

Tears welled in her eyes. “What happened?” Irie asked, her voice shaky.

“Wallace,” Deidra replied, Keefe’s head resting in her lap. She wiped at her nose with her hand. “Tried to kill Keefe while ye were gone. Yer never here when we need ye. Yer never here!” Deidra screamed at her. “Ye were supposed to protect him, Irie! He’s yer wee brother!” She sobbed uncontrollably; shoulders hunched over as she cradled her son as if to protect him. “It’s all yer fault. It’s all yer fault.”

Irie’s tears fell silently down her cheek. “Mum,” she began shakily, “is he dead?”

“I dinna know,” her mother cried.

Irie swallowed the lump in her throat, approaching her blood-soaked brother on the floor. There was a large ax wound in the middle of his chest. The right side of his skull split wide open just above his ear. She knelt down beside him, feeling the pulse in his wrist. His heart was still beating.

“He’s alive,” she whispered. Standing, Irie called in a large voice, “Guards, take Wallace away!”

“Ye canna do that Eyesore!” Wallace seethed.

Irie strode up to Wallace, fists clenched. “Ye attacked him. Ye meant to kill yer own blood! Ye changed Wallace and no’ for the good.” Irie finished and looked at Ulmer. “Take him away, please.”

Ulmer and four others surrounded Wallace.

Her father’s chair screeched back. “Halt,” Horace drunkenly bellowed. Horace staggered as he approached his son. “Yer a fuckin’ disappointment,” he finished, taking another swig. “Yer banished. If ye come back, yer shot dead. Ulmer,” Horace turned to the head guard, “ye got that?”

“Aye, laird,” Ulmer replied.

Wallace glared at Horace.

“Get him out of here, then!” Horace drunkenly bellowed.

Ulmer and the others dragged a kicking, screaming Wallace out of Evermoor, forever. Irie went back to Keefe, feeling his pulse again. She called out for someone to come help. Amy came running to her side with bandages. Irie tried to stop the bleeding from the wound in the middle of his chest. Irie lifted his head, placing a bandage underneath.

Keefe’s left side of his head was split open and gushing blood. Whatever happened, whatever Wallace did to their little brother, it was atrocious. Keefe might not ever be the same if he lived.

The healer came running inside the keep, shoving the bystanders away. The people in the keep crowded around Irie and her family. Their focused eyes never leaving her nor Keefe. Irie could feel their eyes on her back. She heard their quiet remarks rolling off their tongues.

“By Corwaithe, I wonder what this clan thinks of our family now,” she mumbled under her breath.

Amy put her hand over the top of Irie’s, “We love ye, Irie,” she whispered. “No’ so much the others.”

“Aye, it’s true,” Marcella, the healer joined in.

Irie smiled faintly, keeping the pressure on Keefe’s chest. “Thank ye.”

Irie glanced over at her mother. Deidra would not stop wailing beside her youngest son’s motionless body. She was leaning up against the bench, an arm dangling over the side as her head lolled back. Irie looked at her father who lay drunk on the dining hall table, asleep with a cup in his fist.

Marcella worked diligently, trying to save her brother. She staunched the flow of blood from the chest wound, remarking it was a good cut but thankfully not terribly deep. Her clan members eventually dispersed, commenting on how much they disliked Horace and Wallace. Irie wanted to crawl in a hole. Evermoor was the embarrassment of Meerdora. Getting their previous reputation back was going to be an exhausting endeavor. Her clan needed her. Evermoor needed her and she was going to rise.

Peering over her shoulder, Deidra continued to wail pitifully.

“Mum,” Irie said, trying to garner her mother’s attention. “MUM! Go away, yer no’ helpin’ him.”

Her mother sobbed, nodding her head as snot ran down her distraught face. Irie watched her mother disappear in annoyance, shaking her head at the feeble woman.

“He’s no’ bleedin’ much from his head wound Irie,” Marcella cautioned. “The bleedin’ could be inside his head. I dinna know if he will be the same after this or even if he will live.”

Irie nodded her understanding. She had gotten one brother on good terms and then he left. Now she had another brother whom she had come to adore, but now, thanks to Wallace, he may not be the same. It all didn’t seem fair to her; to gain something valuable, then have it stripped out of her hands.

Irie broke away from Marcella. The few of the clan stood behind her, watching and intently waiting. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. “I’m sorry everyone,” Irie announced. “My parents have no’ been good lairds or even good people to ye all. And for it, I’m truly embarrassed and sorry. From now on, I will do my best for this clan and by ye all. I will bring about a better prosperity for us. I promise to listen, to help, to put ye all before myself.” With a final look, she went into the solar to speak to her mother.

Irie stopped sending Brock letters. He never responded or came back to Evermoor. Keefe recovered although he wasn’t the same. He lost vision in his left eye completely. He couldn’t smell anything and had more mood swings in a day than she could keep track of.

It broke her heart watching Keefe because he couldn’t figure out why he was like that. Keefe would cry and say this was not how he was supposed to be as he tried to figure out what went wrong with himself.

The evening bell tolled out loudly. Irie sat down at the high table. In a few hours after the evening meal, the monthly clan meeting would begin. From what she was able to hear from the expressed concerns of her people, the clan wanted Irie to declare herself laird. Irie didn’t see that particular topic coming as she figured Brock would hold the title.

Irie glared down the hallway where her mother and Wallace would be. Somehow her middle brother made it inside the Evermoor keep without getting shot. Thankfully he kept away from her. She couldn’t understand how her mother allowed him back into her life after what Wallace had done to Keefe.

Her father was still lying where she left him earlier that morning. Irie turned around on her bench seat, kicking her father in the foot. He didn’t move.