Page 27 of The Rightful Highland King (The Last Celtic King #4)

Nessa still felt on her guard, but she sensed a genuineness in Maeve's words. Warily, she nodded, taking a step forward until she was at her sister's side. "Ye've nae got a weapon or somethin' on ye, have ye?" she asked.

Letting out a surprised laugh at the half-joke, Maeve pulled back the drape of her arisaid to reveal a swordbelt around her waist and a thin, sheathed sword secured upon it.

"Her name is Tailfeather, and she accompanies me everywhere," she explained.

"But have nae fear. I've nae intentions of drawin' her. Unless ye really annoy me."

There was a short pause, then Nessa laughed too.

It was a surreal feeling, to be chuckling over silly jokes with Maeve of all people, but nevertheless she fell into step beside her, and the two of them strolled along the corridors and out into the grounds of the castle.

They did not speak until they were outside.

"It's rainin'," Nessa observed, pulling her hood up over her hair while Maeve did the same. "It's growin' cold enough that it may even snow. Winter is well and truly here."

Maeve nodded. "Aye. Winter is me favorite season, ye ken."

Nessa glanced at her in surprise. They walked along the path, the drizzling rain not bothering them. "Aye? I thought it would be summer, like Breana. Ye were always runnin' out in the fields when ye managed tae escape in the summer when we were bairns, until Father put a stop tae it."

"I remember," Maeve replied with a little laugh. "But nay. I learned tae love the winter when I was wed tae Malcolm Darach. It's the only season that's both an endin' and a beginnin'. One year finishes and another starts, but the winter continues. It's new hope, even in the coldest of times."

Nessa was silent for a few seconds. She hadn't much experience of the winter, not really.

After her mother had died of an inflammation of the lungs, her father had kept her mostly confined to the castle in the cold months for fear of the winter fever.

She had seen no reason to disobey. She had never seen a reason to disobey her father, even if her heart had felt otherwise.

She held out a hand and caught some of the icy-cold rain on her palm. It was halfway to freezing, and it almost tickled as it chilled the grooves of her hand.

"New beginnin's," she said. "I like the sound of that."

They kept walking for a while. Eventually, the rain died down, then stopped completely. The sky was still cold and grey, but Nessa lowered her hood and breathed in the fresh air, and Maeve did the same. They walked through an arch that led to a small flower garden.

"Why are we here?" Nessa asked after a moment. "I mean, why are we lookin' at flowers together? We've barely spoken all these months."

Maeve looked almost embarrassed. "I need tae ask ye somethin'," she said. "And dinnae be cruel. I already told ye I'm tryin'. I need ye tae try as well."

Nessa thought that sounded more than fair, though she still felt a little uncertain. "What's yer question?" she asked.

It took a moment for Maeve to answer, but when she did, the question was so unbelievably blunt that it took Nessa even longer to answer.

"Is Darren courtin' ye?" Maeve asked, looking Nessa directly in the face. "Are the two of ye… together?"

Nessa knew that a blush had instantly flooded her face, and she hoped that Maeve might mistake it for a side effect of the cold.

The truth was, she didn't know how to answer.

She and Darren had never discussed an official courtship.

In fact, they had both proclaimed forcefully at the start that it was none of their concern what the other did when they weren't together.

But the kiss at the wine shop had been the first of many, and those kisses had grown into discreet touches, secret embraces, and a new kind of heated passion which had overwhelmed all of Nessa's thoughts.

When she was by herself or surrounded by others in the castle, she could remain serious, but when she and Darren snuck off together and were truly alone, she lost herself in the kisses and the sighs.

She found herself thinking of him upon waking and dreaming of him when she slept in an all-consuming flood that she never wanted to surface from.

Darren had tried to talk about what was happening with her, she knew he had.

Sometimes, after they had been together and she lay in his arms, he would start to speak.

But Nessa always stopped him, whether with more kisses or by changing the subject or even by simply leaving.

She knew that Darren's reputation as a flirt and a man adored by women was well-earned, and she was not yet ready to let her newly-exposed and tender heart face the fact that her secret joy would one day come to an end.

"We are friends," Nessa replied. That was true, too.

Even aside from the passion they had been exploring, Darren had become her closest confidante.

He had celebrated her growing closeness with Breana, defended her when others were suspicious of her, and helped her overcome her awkwardness to build relationships and even friendships here amongst the rebels.

She'd opened up to him, telling her stories of her past, and in turn, he'd described what it had been like growing up amongst the rebels.

The way he'd spoken of Cailean especially had fascinated her.

They were truly brothers at heart, perhaps even closer than that; Darren loved Cailean with all his heart, and when he spoke of him, it was hard for Nessa not to love him a little too.

Darren had told her many stories, from training under his father and Senan's watchful eye to helping Ferda on her first scouting mission to the miraculous victories in reclaiming both Bruce Castle and this very castle they were in now.

Through Darren's eyes, it did not seem to be a rebellion.

It was a revolution. A restoration. Something… wonderful.

"Friends," Maeve repeated. Her lips quirked in a smile. "Aye. Cailean and I were friends. But, Nessa, take care. Darren is a carefree sort with women. A good man, one of the best I've ever known, but…"

"Are ye tryin' tae give me advice on the ways of men?" Nessa asked incredulously, then laughed at the strangeness of it all. "Who would have ever thought we would have reached this point?"

"Nae me," Maeve admitted. "But… I am yer older sister. Perhaps it's long since time."

Nessa held out a hand. "Perhaps ye're right," she replied. "There–there is a lot behind us. A lot I thought ye may never forgive me for. Who kens how long it will be before we can fully leave it all behind us."

Maeve took her hand. "Then let's get started."