Page 22 of The Rightful Highland King (The Last Celtic King #4)
Chapter Thirteen
Two days after her arrival, Darren and Breana managed to convince Nessa to at last set foot outside of her rooms. She had steadfastly refused to explore the keep, not wanting to get to know any of the rebels too well and not ready to face Maeve yet.
But Breana had come that morning and told her that the nearby village was hosting a small harvest festival, and Darren had explained how spectacular it would be as the first celebration of the newly liberated village, and Nessa's curiosity had gotten the better of her.
She felt exposed as she walked through the castle with Breana and Darren, though her new dress was well-fitting and nobody gave her more than a cursory look.
Nevertheless, Nessa was sure that each one of the rebels must be talking about her, whispering about her, and making judgments.
She knew that this was how things went in a castle—it always had been.
"Dinnae look so nervous," Darren told her cheerfully. "If anyone tries anythin', I'll make an example of them."
"Darren," Breana said disapprovingly. "Dinnae make her worry about such things. Nessa, naebody is gonnae do a thing. Ye're fine. Just keep breathin'."
"All I'm sayin' is that if ye're nae , I'm here tae be the hero," Darren teased.
Nessa allowed their good-natured back and forth be her comfort and shield as they walked through the corridors and out into the grounds.
She didn't speak much herself, instead allowing her eyes to dart all around and take in everything around her.
It was… strange. McNair Castle was not like any castle she had ever been in, and the people seemed to interact very strangely.
She spied Cailean himself at one point, talking and laughing with a man who by his state of dress and accent was likely a kitchen porter or stablehand.
She saw women and men mingling, chatting naturally with nobody raising an eyebrow.
On the grounds, women trained with swords alongside men, and men tended the flowerbeds alongside the women.
Though there was definitely the awareness of the ongoing war overhead, there was an aura of hope in the air that Nessa could not fully understand.
It made her uneasy. She'd never experienced anything like it, and she found herself drawn toward it even as she pulled away.
They left the grounds eventually, walking down the winding path toward the castle village. As they entered the boundary, Nessa let out a gasp.
"It's fair bonny, eh?" Darren asked.
It was. The small thatched houses of the village had been draped with color.
Flags of the McNair purple flew alongside banners in every color of the rainbow, yellows and blues and even greens flying merrily on lines stretched across buildings.
Flowers lined the streets and decorated the hair of women and girls who passed, woven into flower crowns or poised behind the ear.
As Breana, Darren, Eoin and Nessa reached the center of the village, they were greeted with an explosion of scent, color and sound.
Fresh baked goods wafted a welcome into the air, while laughing children cheered a show of puppets and a musician strummed a jaunty tune while men and women danced.
Sizzling meat crackled nearby, and peddlers called their wares, their voices a discordant harmony.
"What do ye think?" Breana asked with a smile. "They've been plannin' this for weeks. I think it's turned out even better than expected."
"They're… happy," Nessa said, staring as a boy ran past, screeching with laughter as a little girl chased him brandishing a wooden sword.
"They're carefree. Even when they ken they're rebuildin' their lives on a target.
Even when they ken the king may slaughter them simply for bein' here. How is that possible?"
"They dinnae fear the False King, because the only king they recognize protects them from that castle up there," Darren replied, pointing up to the keep they had just left.
"They ken that the true king and queen, Cailean and yer sister, will do whatever it takes tae let them live in happiness and freedom. "
Nessa wanted to object. She'd learned long ago that such things were for fools.
But… was it possible to deny joy when it unfolded before her very eyes?
Could she really deny the inspiration and hope that the McNair name had brought when she saw round-bellied women knitting baby clothes on their doorsteps and bashful young men chatting to giggling young women?
This was the world of fairytales, the world of cohesion and love and comfort she had been taught from birth could never be.
Her father had said that the contented would inevitably rise against their masters.
Yet how could that be, when these people seemed to love their leader so much?
None of it made any sense to her at all, and yet Nessa yearned to learn more.
The four of them wandered between the market stalls, sampling sweets and savory treats.
Darren bought a purple ribbon and handed it to Nessa, who, caught up in the moment, allowed Breana to tie it in her hair.
Eoin took part in a sparring competition and won, sweeping up the prize of a bouquet of flowers and presenting them to Breana with a silly little bow.
"Come, let's watch the puppet play," Darren said eagerly, grabbing Nessa by the hand. He tugged her slightly, causing her to cry out and laugh as she stumbled after him.
"It's for bairns!" she protested.
"Oh, aye?" Darren asked. "And how many times did ye act like a bairn when ye were one? Come on, before it starts again."
Breana nodded. "Go on," she encouraged. "Eoin and I are gonnae go take a look at the blacksmith's stall. We'll be nearby."
Eoin gave her a small smile, then he and Breana wandered off. Nessa turned back to Darren, who was grinning at her with his eyebrows raised in question. Nessa let out a little snort and shook her head.
"Ye're incorrigible," she scolded, grinning back. "Fine. Let's watch."
They settled down at the back of the crowd of children and watched as the puppet show began.
It was the story of the Battle of Bruce Castle.
Nessa watched in absolute fascination as she saw for the first time how the 'other side' saw what had happened to the Darachs.
It was strange to see puppets of her sisters, and stranger still to hear the puppet-commoners describe the woe they felt under Darach's power.
Cailean's puppet was by far the most lovingly carved, and every time he appeared on the stage, the children cheered.
Nessa found herself getting caught up in the story, gasping at the battles and smiling as the children made faces at the romantic scenes. When Maeve and Cailean discussed with a third puppet how to get into Darach Castle, Darren said, "That's me!"
"Hush!" Nessa said, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.
He laughed and, almost as if he hadn't thought about it, put his arm around her shoulders. Nessa froze in surprise, but as the show continued, she leaned into his warmth.
She rested her head on his shoulder as the puppet play went on and found herself booing along with the children whenever Kyle Darach appeared and cheering when Cailean triumphantly defeated him.
When Kier Bruce's puppet took his place in the 'throne room' and Cailean raised the McNair flag, signaling the end of the play, Nessa clapped and cheered along with the rest.
She glanced up and was surprised to see tears shining in Darren's eyes, though he wasn't actually crying. She sat up, his arm falling from her shoulders as she did.
"Are ye all right?" she asked.
He turned to her, smiling, and wiped his eyes. "Och, aye. Just bein' daft. It's just… that's me home, ye ken? Me best friend got me home back for me and gave me da back everythin' he thought he'd lost forever. I think sometimes I'll never be able tae repay him."
Nessa stared at him, a strange shiver creeping across her skin.
She'd forgotten for a moment that the show was a version of the truth.
Darren, who had been so kind to her, had gotten more back from Cailean's victory on a personal level even than the rebellion as a whole.
Nessa had been told at the time that Cailean's march upon the Darachs was driven by pure tactics and greed, but now… now she felt more confused than ever.
Darren was back to his usual grinning self a moment later. He scrambled to his feet and held out his hand to help Nessa up, which she took after only a small pause. As she was dusting off her skirt, Darren waved to someone.
"Neala!" he called. "Over here! I didnae ken ye'd be here today!"
Nessa went still. Neala… Did that mean Neala McNair?
Nessa had accepted a long time ago that Cailean was the real thing, even though officially, according to the king, he was nothing but a pretender.
But she'd had much more trouble believing the story of the returned princess, even when Breana had explained it all to her the night before.
Neala, the lost princess, the spy who had tricked Ansel Ashkirk himself.
Nessa knew Ansel now, and she could not comprehend how such a thing would be possible.
She turned as Neala approached. There was no mistaking this girl was Cailean's sister, but Darren introduced them anyway.
"Neala, this is the famous Nessa O'Sullivan. Nessa, this is Neala McNair, Cailean's sister. I'm glad tae introduce ye at last," Darren said.
Apprehension colored Nessa's thoughts. Neala was studying her too closely, and Nessa instantly felt on her guard. "Pleased tae meet ye," Nessa said after a moment.
"An' ye," Neala replied, her voice oddly stiff. "I'm glad Darren was able tae get ye back safely. I'm sure it wasnae easy tae get ye away from the prince."
Nessa frowned. "I suppose, though he was otherwise occupied," she replied. "Darren didnae have much issue."