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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

T he previous week had felt like eons to Valora.

Though her life had been turned upside down in mere days, now she knew what she was meant to do, and she couldn’t help but think that things had always been meant to be that way.

Meeting Torrin had been jarring at first, what with the way she had been handed off to him by her father, but now nothing felt more natural than being with him.

And after the night they had spent together, she already considered herself his wife.

The wedding would have to take place soon, if for nothing else, then to ensure that Clan Keith couldn’t force her into an unwanted marriage.

The very notion that had frightened Valora only a few days prior now seemed like a dream come true, like the one thing she had been waiting for her whole life without even knowing it.

In those few days, she had also gone from trying to avoid Torrin at all costs to craving his presence.

After a few hours of trying to occupy herself with other things—with Arrow, with Daisy, even with embroidery to fill the idle hours of the morning—she decided to give in to her desires and head to Torrin’s study, eager to see him again.

How odd it was that she already missed him. How odd it was that she could so easily miss a person she saw every single day.

Making her way to Torrin’s study, she passed through the sunlit corridors, the light falling in beams through the windows to illuminate the grand portraits and tapestries that decorated the gray stone walls.

The guards and servants she passed on her way greeted her with smiles, and it seemed to Valora that everything, from the weather to the people around her, was brighter, filled with joy.

Near the door of the study, she heard voices—Torrin’s unmistakable low burr and Noah’s softer, always quieter tone. Valora paused for a moment when she heard Noah, not knowing whether or not she should interrupt.

The door stood ajar. She hesitated a moment longer, then knocked gently and stepped in.

Torrin looked up first. He was seated behind the massive oak desk, parchment and ledgers scattered in organized chaos across its surface. Noah stood beside him, one finger following a line in a column of figures, his brow furrowed as his gaze searched for something Valora couldn’t see on the paper.

“Valora,” Torrin said, his voice softening at the sight of her. “Come in. Just a moment, I’ll be right with ye.”

She nodded and slipped into the room, moving toward one of the armchairs by the hearth.

The fire in the study burned hot, casting a glow on the stone floor.

She sat and folded her hands in her lap, listening absently to the final remarks about shipping routes and grain stores, coin owed and coin still to be paid.

“There’s been some talk o’ dwindlin’ reserves, but the Gordons willnae press until after the harvest,” Noah said. “As things stand, they’re nae makin’ any requests so far.”

Torrin gave a short nod, leaning back. “Aye. Make sure the ledgers reflect it. That’s all fer now, Noah. We can talk about the rest later.”

Noah glanced at Valora with a small, knowing smile, one that made her blush to the tips of her ears.

She had hoped Torrin would be alone. Now that Noah was there and knew precisely why Valora had come to the study, she couldn’t help but be overcome with embarrassment, and that smile he gave her only served to worsen it,

Torrin leaned forward, arms resting on the desk. “Fergive me fer keepin’ ye waitin’. We’ve been tryin’ tae keep everyone happy but in times o’ war, there’s only this much we can dae.”

The weight of the war weighed heavily on Torrin’s shoulders.

Valora could see it in the way he held himself, stiff and tense, his shoulders up to his ears and his brow permanently furrowed.

He looked as though he had not seen peace in a long time, as though whatever tentative peace the clan had experienced in the previous years was so fragile, so brittle that it may as well have been a time of war.

Valora smiled faintly, hoping the small gesture would give Torrin some comfort. “I understand. A laird’s work is never done.”

Standing from her seat, Valora made to join Torrin at the desk, where he was pouring them both a cup of wine.

How is it that me feelings fer him have blossomed so in such a short time?

Valora could hardly understand it, but that didn’t make her them any less real. She had tried to deconstruct her feelings and the reasons behind them, but at the end of the day, what truly mattered was that she desired him, body and soul.

But as she made to sit across from him, in one of the two plush leather armchairs dedicated to the guests, her eye caught a loose parchment among the others. Valora paused. Her name was written at the very top—Lady Valora MacNeacail.

Frowning in confusion, she reached for it.

“Wait—” Torrin said quickly, but she was already holding it in her hands.

Her gaze skimmed the page, understanding dawning on her slowly the more she read.

The note was written in a firm hand and formal tone, the script elegant and the signatures upon it terribly familiar; but the meaning struck her like a slap to the face, stopping her dead in her tracks.

It was a record of agreement, a purchase ledger with her name on it—her name, followed by a price and the names of bidders, among whom Torrin was mentioned as the highest.

The room narrowed, her vision going dark at the edges.

Her ears rang and the walls seemed to spin, and Valora had to grip onto the edge of the desk to keep herself from swaying.

Nausea gripped her, reality crashing down on her bit by bit until the weight of it was unbearable—until she could do nothing but stand there in shock, staring at Torrin with her jaw clenched, gritting her teeth to stop the tears from falling.

Across from her, Torrin stood still, just as shocked by her discovery as she was. His face was pale under the soft sunlight. His hand trembled almost imperceptibly. Valora could hardly stand to look at him, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave; not without getting some answers first.

“What is this?”

Her voice was too quiet, too calm. She didn’t want to show any weakness, but she didn’t know how to hide her horror, her absolute shock written plainly on her face.

Torrin hesitated. He swallowed with an audible click and then rounded the desk slowly, approaching Valora. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him, not if she could help it. She took several steps back, the piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand as the distance between them grew.

“Valora…”

Her heart pounded like a war drum. With every passing moment, the fact that she had been sold like cattle to Torrin sank deeper and deeper into her mind.

The thought speared through her, an ache spreading in her chest. The betrayal was like a physical blow, so strong that she couldn’t help but think it was capable of killing her.

“What is this, Torrin?”

She wanted him to say it. She wanted him to admit it to her face, to tell her the truth.

Torrin drew in a deep, shaky breath. He stopped trying to approach her, but his hand made an aborted move to reach for her before falling once again by his side.

“It… it is precisely what ye think it is,” he admitted.

“I was… auctioned?” Valora asked, her voice cracking. She tried so hard to keep herself calm, to show nothing of the pain she felt, but it seeped through the cracks, showing itself despite her best efforts. “Sold off like cattle?”

Torrin said nothing. What could he say to this, when it was so clearly the truth? He could not deny it, but he could not bring himself to say it out loud either. It didn’t surprise Valora; what was there for him to say to justify what he had done?

“Ye bought me like cattle. Ye bought me like I’m naethin’ but an item,” Valora said, her voice strained and tight. “Like I have nae life o’ me own, like I can just belong tae ye an’—”

“Nay,” Torrin said firmly, interrupting her. “Valora, it wasnae like that.”

It was the last thing Valora wanted to hear. There was nothing Torrin could tell her—no excuse, no valid reason for what he had done. While still making her feel somewhat disrespected, marrying someone for alliance was understandable. But being sold? Like she was not a human being?

“Then tell me how it was,” she demanded, her hands coming to rest on her hips as she stared him down, her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. “Because from where I stand, I see coin, signatures, bargains. An’ none involved me consent.”

Torrin had the decency to look away, refusing to meet her gaze. But his shame wasn’t enough; she didn’t think anything could be enough, but she still wanted to hear what he had to say.

“I saw that Laird Keith was biddin’ fer yer hand,” he said. “He wanted ye, Valora, an’ he tried very hard tae have ye. Had it nae been fer me, ye would be wedded tae him now.”

Blood flooded Valora’s cheeks, her anger getting the better of her as she marched up to Torrin and jabbed an accusatory finger at his chest. “An’ ye think this makes this any better?

Ye think I should be grateful that ye… that ye purchased me?

” She scoffed, shaking her head. “How are ye any different from him? What gives ye the right tae buy me like this? Tae buy anyone like this.”

“Naethin’,” said Torrin quietly, shaking his head. “I didnae have the right, Valora. I ken that. But it was the best I could dae given the circumstances. I saw how Laird Keith treated ye an’ I wished tae spare ye from that fate. The only way I could think o’ daein’ it was by biddin’ fer yer hand.”

For all Valora could admit that being with Torrin was a much better fate than being with Laird Keith, she couldn’t get over the way she had ended up with him.

Not only had Torrin bought her as though she was nothing but an item to be traded for gold, not only had he hidden it from her, but her father had also committed the ultimate betrayal by selling her off to the highest bidder.

It was that which had shaken her the most. Though she had always known her father would chase profit and that he would do anything for gold and power, she had never expected that.

She had never expected to be treated so horribly, with such cruelty and disregard for her autonomy.

“I never asked fer this,” she said, her voice small. “I never asked ye tae dae such a thing.”

“I ken ye didnae,” said Torrin. “I ken that. I just didnae ken what else tae dae.”

His own voice cracked, hurt and shame seeping through in his tone. Valora had never seen him so remorseful and she knew there was nothing false about it—no artifice, no attempt to trick her. And yet, she didn’t know if she could find it in herself to forgive this behavior.

“Ye should have told me,” she said after a moment. “At least after. Especially after.”

“I didnae ken how,” Torrin admitted. “An’ I thought… I thought it would be best tae keep the painful truth from ye. It was a harmless secret to avoid hurtin’ ye. I didnae think ye’d find out.”

Tears welled in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

“Harmless? There is naethin’ harmless about this!

How can ye say that? Would ye like fer this tae happen tae ye?

Would ye like fer yer own faither tae sell ye tae the highest bidder, regardless if the person is good or bad, an’ fer the person ye’re meant tae wed tae lie tae ye like that? ”

For a moment, Torrin didn’t speak, but his shame was palpable, like a physical thing that coiled around him and choked the air out of his lungs. When he finally spoke, he only managed to say her name in a soft whisper.

“Valora—”

But Valora was already moving, her shoes slapping against the stone floor as she found the path out of the study.

The tears finally began to stream down her cheeks now that Torrin wasn’t there to see them, falling unbridled as she broke into a sprint.

All around her, servants and guards alike watched her in stunned silence, no one knowing what had happened or what to do.

Valora didn’t bother explaining anything to them—not even to Daisy, who appeared in her way just as she burst out into the courtyard in a mad, blind dash away from Torrin. Daisy called her name, but Valora didn’t stop; she didn’t even glance at her, the pain too much to bear.

She ran towards the cliffs, seeking solitude.