LONG BEFORE THE CARRIAGE DOOR SHUT, IT HAD BEEN DECIDED . . . 

Ah don’t know how this all came to be. One day, Ah was just a wee lass runnin’ through the glen, and now here Ah am, bound for a place that feels more like fate than a destination, like some parcel to be handed off. The trees outside my carriage window blur as we pass, but Ah can still make out their familiar shapes—those ancient oaks that watched over me as a child. They have seen everything, yet here Ah am, feeling like Ah’m the only one in the world who’s lost.

Autumn in Aberdeenshire paints the world with colours that seem too vivid to be real. The carriage wheels creak beneath me as we trundle along paths Ah have wandered countless times as a child but today feels different—final. The trees outside wear their autumn cloaks—gold, red, and russet—scattering their leaves on the ground like a woven tapestry. The cool air nips at my cheeks, carrying with it the rich, earthy aroma of damp soil and the sweetness of fruit left too long on the branch. A faint wisp of wood smoke hovers in the distance, a reminder that the surrounding villages are bracing for winter’s arrival, even if my thoughts are far from their preparations.

My brothers James, William, and Patrick ride alongside me, on horseback, their presence both comforting and suffocating. They’ve been quiet—too quiet. They know what this journey means as well as Ah do.

Ah am being sent away, treated like a troublesome child, without a word about what Ah want. Ah am old enough to be a woman, but no one sees that. They treat me like someone who needs managing. Ah search James’ eyes, but he won’t meet my gaze. His expression remains steady, unreadable–but he must care, aye?

Ah should be furious. And Ah am, somewhere deep inside. But all Ah feel is fear. The thought of being cast off—because my parents think ‘tis best—is a cage closing around me. The rhythm of the wheels feels like its pulling me toward something Ah cannae stop.

The carriage jolts over a stone, pulling me from my thoughts, and remindin’ me just how far Ah am from the life Ah once knew. The momentary shock leaves me clutching my seat, as though steadying myself against a coming storm.

Ah, glance at Fionnghuala (FYUN-uh-luh), sitting across from me. She’s been my companion for years, but even she can’t protect me from this. Her eyes are soft, filled with worry, but what can she say? What can anyone say? This isn’t about what Ah want anymore. It is about what must be done. Her hands desperately wring the hem of her wrap as if searching for words of comfort neither of us can find.

My hands clench together in my lap as Ah force myself to breathe. Ah think of the glen, the sunlight filtering through the trees, the sound of the burn trickling over rocks, and how Ah could disappear into that world. Ah used to imagine Ah could talk to the faeries there, telling my secrets to them, believing they might carry them away on the wind. But that’s not where Ah am. Ah am here, in this carriage, headed toward a place where my future is being decided for me.

Back then, life was carefree, with no bigger worries than climbing trees or learning how to be a proper lady. Ah would scramble up the tallest branches, the rough bark scraping my shins, to peer out at the world below. Or when Grandda taught me archery, his hands steadying mine until Ah hit the mark. The smell of wild heather mingling with the fresh air reminded me that life was more than the endless lessons and rehearsed manners—it was about freedom.

Even then, Ah must have known freedom wasn’t meant to last. Ah was being trained, silently shaped into something useful for others—a wife, an asset, someone to provide an heir. Ah, suppose part of me always knew. Ah wanted to believe there was more to life than duty. But those days feel long gone, as though they belonged to a different Elspeth.

My new home looms ahead, unyielding, like the life awaiting me. Ah know the halls, the rooms, the faces that will greet me, but Ah have never felt so far from what is familiar. Ah am being sent to be made into someone Ah fear Ah will no longer recognize. Ah am supposed to feel grateful, but all Ah feel is a hollow pit in my stomach. Even the land Ah know so well feels distant, like it is slipping away.

Ah try to tell myself Ah will adjust, that Ah will find a way to make this place my own, but a cold dread coils within me… Ah do not want to be here. Ah want to be in Corsindae, wrapped in the safety of what Ah know, not lost in the murk of what is being forced upon me. But this is my reality now. Ah have no choice but to face it.

Ah glance back one last time, but the glen is already fading, the trees that once felt like a haven slipping further into the distance. The faeries will not take my secrets today. There is no wind to carry them away—only the burden of knowing my future is no longer mine to decide.