A Thread in Time
- Prologue -
The storm had settled by the time the summons came.
Rain clung to the stone walls of Castle Forbes, dampness seeping into the ancient mortar as mist drifted through the narrow glen. Within the great hall, the air felt no lighter. Shadows pooled beneath the iron sconces, the flames guttering low, reluctant to burn.
Lady Elspeth Forbes kneeled by the hearth; her look fixed on the dying embers as though their glow might steady the torrent within her chest. She had known this moment would come—the slow, inevitable crawl of destiny pressing heavier with each passing day.
A door creaked open.
“Elspeth.”
Her mother’s voice, though gentle, carried the weight of finality.
The flames stirred as she drew breath, bracing herself. She did not turn. Not yet.
Then her father’s voice followed—harder, unyielding.
“Come, lass. The tyme is nigh.”
Tyme.
It echoed coldly, binding her as surely as the embroidered gown cinched tight at her waist. They had decided her future already. She had heard the murmurs—the hushed exchanges behind closed doors.
And yet, hearing it aloud was a wound all the same.
Slowly, she rose and turned, the fabric of her skirts whispering against the stone floor.
Her father stood near the head of the long table, pale but resolute, his hands clenching the back of his chair.
Her brothers were noticeably absent.
“Elspeth,” her father began, each word measured, final.
“Ye know why ye’ve been summoned. The matter is settled. Ye’ll leave a’fore the weeks’ end.”
A coldness settled in her stomach.
So soon.
She nodded, though the ache in her throat swelled with the words she dared not speak.
This was not justice.
Not for what she had done.
Not for a single night’s mistake.
Her father’s voice cut through the silence once more.
“Ye’ll do what is required. Fer the honour of this hoose, there will be no more argument.”
Elspeth swallowed hard, tasting the bitterness of defeat.
She had fought once.
Pleaded.
Wept behind closed doors.
But the decision had been made.
A chill draft rippled as the heavy doors were pulled open, and the damp scent of rain pressed in from the courtyard. Beyond these stone walls, her future awaited—a life chosen for her, not with tenderness but with duty.
The choice was no longer hers.
With her head high, Elspeth stepped forward, the ache pressing deep beneath her ribs.
She did not beg.
She did not yield.
But in the silence that followed, she felt something break.
