"Saeran!" Her sister's shrill voice echoed through the stone-walled room, causing her to jerk awake. "Saeran! You overslept, and Brodrick is asking after you! Can you be any more irresponsible? Do you wish for Brodrick to complain about you to The Lion? You shall be sent away, if they are as displeased with you as I am!"

"I'm sorry," she muttered. Her voice laden with sleep, she rubbed a hand over her face. "The men... They do not turn in till late."

"That is no excuse! Now get up." Blaine tossed things at Saeran. One by one, they hit her in the face, falling in her lap. She looked down with a heavy heart. Trews. The damn trews. She fisted them in her lap and looked at her sister beseechingly.

"Do I have to?"

Blaine froze, then slowly turned around, her eyes glaring daggers. "Are you being ungrateful?" Her voice had Saeran cringing. Every time Saeran objected to something, that was her retort. She reminded Saeran of her duty, and Blaine's own sacrifice, with those four words nearly every day.

Saeran shook her head, staring down at the bits of clothing.

"No, Blaine," she answered heavily.

"Good," she hissed. "Now get up. The men wish to do more training, or whatever it is you do with them during the day. I must speak with the new cook about the meal for tonight. Oh, and when you're done, find me. Midday I should be tending to the gardens with Gwen. Make sure you're clean," she said, grimacing. "The scent of you is appalling when you're done with those men."

She left the room in a flurry of skirts. Saeran groaned, falling back into the bed.

Aye, well, maybe if you spent all of your day sparring with men thrice your size, you'd know the pain of it all. Alas, her sister had no care for Saeran’s pain. Blaine was steadily ignoring all of the hardships that were put on Saeran’s shoulders.

Shortly after arriving, people had begun questioning her presence there. Blaine had the most ingenious idea of claiming that Saeran was there to be the laird's squire.

At first, Saeran hadn't known what to make of it, so she'd ignored it—until Brodrick grabbed her in the middle of cleaning dishes with the cook, and threw her into the training field.

The shock, and horror, of what Blaine had done, hit her with the full force of a hundred men bearing down on her—which they had been! Every day, for the past fortnight, she had been forced to get up in the early hours of dawn, bathe in the cool creek that was a horse ride away, and then prepare for a day of what the men felt was mock battle.

It was definitely not mock. She felt every strike and impact, and she had yet to recover from the first day's bout. The wounds, bruises, and aches were piling on top of each other as the days went by.

Tears of frustration stung her eyes as she sat up, throwing the trews on the ground angrily. She hated this. She hated her role as a boy. She hated listening to her sister remind her of her place. She hated being reminded of how brave Blaine was for doing this for Saeran.

Blaine wasn't brave! She was a lady, damn it! Fixing and weeding flowers, and bossing other people around to do her work. No one was here to stop her, and no one had the courage to tell her otherwise. So she was, quite frankly, running wild. It was still better than what Saeran suspected would happen when the laird returned. He had yet to come back, and Saeran was beginning to think that he never would, although it was a foolish hope at best.

She sniffed back her tears and slid out of bed. She shivered when the cool Highland air breezed into the room, through the open window. It helped the pains. Like yesterday, she couldn't escape to the creek to soothe her aching muscles. She scrubbed a hand over her face, pushing back her golden waves, and took a moment to just...relax.

With her shift and a blanket draped around her shoulders, she sat on the sill of the window, leaning against the edge.

The place was not in ruins, as her sister and she had expected. None of the buildings were crumbling, and every shack, building, and stall, were in the utmost of shape.

It was a remarkable sight.

She'd held the thought since she first saw the place, and with her time here, it hadn't changed.

The entire estate was glorious. The keep was large and sprawling, well-kept, despite the lack of maids. Three separate pastures let sheep, cattle, and chickens graze. Chickens were cooped up in the stables with the horses. How the men here had managed to get the two animals to co-exist, she wouldn't know; but to her, it attested to the stability of the estate.

The vibrant, green hills seemed to roll on forever, and hiding within the forestation was her precious creek. It wasn't too far away from the keep, but enough that she had to take a horse to take her baths if she wanted her absence to go unnoticed. She didn't mind the distance—not only was the creek a small safe haven for her, but it gave her time to practice her riding skills.

Another chilly breeze wafted into the room, pulling at her curly hair, as if to tell her to get away from the window. She sighed, casting one last glance over the vibrant land, and sulked her way to her clothes.

She hadn't had a chance to bathe the night before, so she was as dirty and gritty as ever. The only consolation was the fresh-smelling clothes. At least Blaine had enough thought to provide a clean outfit for her every day.

Lord, but binding her breasts was becoming a chore. Not only was it hard to keep them pressed when she was “training”, but it only added to the aches and pains of what she went through every day. As she finished binding, she began putting her hair in a bun. It took everything she had not to cry when she raised her arms to pin the cap in place.

“I can’t go through this for another day,” she moaned, even though she knew she didn’t have a choice. She sucked back her frustration and squared her shoulders—then winced.

Today was going to be painful.

* * *

There wasn't a single person in the training area. Not there, not the stables, not even in the kitchen. For a moment, fear slid down her back. Oh, Brodrick was going to skin her a new one for being this late. She'd been good about getting up and making it to training at the right time.

She stopped a maid running past her.

"Have you seen any of the men? Brodrick? I can't seem to find them."

The girl, no older than Saeran herself, gave her an once-over.

She smiled coyly.

"No, but I could entertain ye', if that's what yer lookin' for?" She whispered the heated words. The exact opposite of what Saeran wanted to hear. Her face flamed, and she jerked away from the maid.

"Ah—I think I'll—" She shut her mouth, unable to believe the words that had come out of the maid's mouth, and turned around. She could find the men on her own.

"Aw, the wee lad is a shy one!" the maid exclaimed from behind her. The hand on her arm stopped her from escaping. She swallowed nervously, pulling out of the maid's grip.

"I'm in quite a hurry—"

"Saeran!" a booming voice shouted. She didn't know whether to cower or be relieved. The maid backed away from her before the fear could settle in. Relief it was. "We've been searching for ye' everywhere, lad. Ye' didn't make it to training."

Brodrick's growl washed away the relief. Cowardice it was. He came upon them, the maid with her head down, and Saeran still blushing like a fool. A knowing look came over his face, and he grinned.

"That explains it then.” He clapped Saeran on the back, like they had something to celebrate. She didn't understand in the least. The maid scurried away, kicking up dirt as she went. Saeran watched her go, mouth drawn tight, the blush only getting worse. "She's a bonny one, that Denise."

"She is?" Saeran asked blankly. He was talking like they had shared a secret.

"Oh, aye, and ye' found that out right quick I bet." Saeran didn't even want to know what he meant by that. Thankfully, his features became serious. "Ye' should have been to training today, lad."

Her shoulders slumped.

"Aye, I know." There wasn't an excuse that she could give that this large, hulking man would believe. He was strict, rough, and terrifying. No doubt he was going to make her do something strenuous to make up for her irresponsibility. She'd prefer that to anything else—like him doing as Blaine said he would and complain to the laird.

"Lucky for you," he said, a rare smile coming over his face, "we did not train. We went on a ride to secure the fencing in the north pasture."

"There's fencing?" She'd thought the animals roamed free. She hadn't seen any fences on her way in, nor could she see any from her room.

"The MacLeods throw a bloody tantrum if our lands aren't separated. Without the fence, they'd try to claim our land and livestock. They're a bunch of fools," he grunted, beginning to walk to the stables.

Several of the men were there, tending to their stallions. The second she took a step inside, she felt small, like she'd be crushed with one movement. The men and the horses were frighteningly huge, and Saeran was...pathetically tiny.

"Ye' missed today's work, so ye'll have to clean out the stalls."

It wasn't much of a punishment, since she did it every day anyway. She gave Brodrick a tight smile, and watched as the warriors began to file out of the stables. Lord, but they were imposing. They towered over her with an incomprehensible height. When they glared at her, she nearly wet herself.

"Blaine wants me to accompany her to the village at midday," Saeran told him. She shouldn't have to, but something about him made her want to report everything she did. He had a hard, honest face. No wonder the laird had chosen Brodrick as his second. He commanded respect.

"Verra well." He nodded his head to her. "Oh, and lad?"

She paused, hand wrapped around the handle. "Aye?"

"Stay away from the maids. They're a greedy bunch, ye' ken."

Her face flamed. He burst into deep, thunderous laughter while striding out of the stables. She slumped against the wall. Cleaning out the stalls might be a pain, but she’d choose that over being near Brodrick any day.

He was too keen, too sharp. He always knew when something was wrong—Saeran just prayed he didn’t realize something was wrong with her.

Saeran made sure there was no one left in the stall and began her work, giving each horse an apple as she went. They’d become the only pleasant constant in her day. Getting pummeled to a pulp, dealing with her sister’s attitudes, and fighting off the aches and pains of the pummels weren’t things she looked forward to every day. The horses made it worth it, though.

The one she’d ridden a fortnight ago nuzzled her shoulder as she passed. Saeran smiled.

“Don’t tell the other horses,” she whispered, feeding it an apple and sliding another one in its feeder. “They get awfully jealous.”

The mare chuffed the ground, and she smiled, continuing. She cleaned out the old hay, replaced it with a fresh layer, then brushed down every horse. It wasn’t required of her, but she knew they were often worked all through the day. A little relaxation never killed any of them.

When she got to the last horse, a stallion as black as night, she paused. There was a shifty look to his eyes and his breathing was forced, heavy. His barrel chest was heaving. She bit her lip.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, slowly holding her hand out to the stallion. His eyes zeroed in on her hand. “I can’t brush you unless you’re calm.”

He neighed roughly and she jerked away. It only heightened his panic. He reared back, violently kicking his hooves out. They connected with the latch that held the stall door closed and it broke. Saeran didn’t have time to react.

The beast came charging out, a shrill sound ripping from his lips.

She flung herself out of the way, but not before his hoof caught her in the thigh. Saeran screamed from the pain and fell back against the stall of another restless horse. The stallion charged out of the stables. Pain wracked her, centering at her thigh. It spread outwards like a wildfire. Despite that, she managed to get to her feet. She could hear the men shouting.

Saeran blinked back her tears, breathing shallowly. Aye, moving was a lot harder than it had seemed. Nevertheless, she had to let them know it wasn’t her fault the horse escaped. She’d already made a mess of things today with Brodrick—she didn’t need to add more to the list.

Her sister would hear about this, she knew.

She wanted to crawl into a hole and perish. It sounded much easier than dragging herself out of stables and into the chaos of the training grounds. She grabbed a rope from the stables.

Three men were trying to calm the horse, Brodrick was nowhere to be found, and the insane horse was creating a stir. She ran forward—or wobbled. It was hard to run on a leg that felt only of searing pain.

“Here,” she called, tossing the rope. The sound of her voice caused everything to still—or rather, the horse. As the horse froze, so did everyone else. Its eyes, black, wide, and crazed, stared at her.

Then it charged. Her leg made it impossible to move out of the way fast enough. Adrenaline rushed through her blood and she pitched to the side—right into waiting arms. She froze.

“I donna know what happened, and I fear I donna want to,” the familiar voice said. She sagged against Brodrick in relief—and realized immediately she wasn’t a simpering girl, but a lad who had to take care of himself. She yanked herself out of his arms, but not before she saw the speculative look in his eyes.

“It wasn’t my fault,” she said the second she gathered her wits. The ache in her leg was growing worse. Lord, but the creek sounded nice right then. “He hit the door with his hooves and broke the hatch. I—I’ll fix it if I can get the tools.”

She put a hand over her chest to still the beating of her heart, though it did no good.

The binding began to loosen. Her eyes widened. Brodrick gave her a narrow look, then focused on the leg she was favoring. She instantly straightened herself, then regretted her decision immediately. A startled gasp of pain left her lips.

“I believe ye’.” He gestured toward the keep. “Go on. Have yer sister tend to ye’. We can take care of everything here.”

She gave him a grateful smile. That must not have been the thing to do because his eyes narrowed, and then he turned away sharply. She watched him go with pressed lips. Had he noticed her lapse? The way she’d been leaning against him would have made it easy for Brodrick to feel her curves. The clothes hid them well, yes, but even Saeran knew they couldn’t hide them when she was being touched.

Her face paled.

Don’t think about it, she chided herself. She wrapped her arms around her stomach as she retreated to the keep. It was one slip. He would not notice.

The walk to the kitchens was painful. Her leg throbbed so strongly that tears stung her eyes, but she kept going. Her sister was not going to be pleased about this, not at all. Especially if she found out about Saeran’s slip. She chewed on her lower lip as she entered the kitchen. Blaine didn’t have to find out. She didn’t need to know everything that Saeran did during the day.

She glanced at her throbbing leg. There would be no hiding that, though. She could hardly walk on it.

The cook, Sabia, spotted her immediately. The petite woman had come to them recently, just a sennight after the sisters arrived. Her house had caught fire after her youngest boy had tried to play in the hearth. She was a widow with two children, her husband having died in battle. The thought made her lips tighten. Sabia’s husband wouldn’t have died if her laird weren’t as bloodthirsty as he was.

Sabia was holding up well. Not only with the loss of her husband and losing her house, but with her duties as a cook. She made excellent mutton and kept the kitchens cleaner than when the sisters settled in. Her two children, Sorcha and Nial, helped her do the dishes. They weren’t even ten years, but they knew their duties to the keep, and did them without complaint. Saeran didn’t mind letting them run around when they were done, but Blaine always had something to say about it.

Sabia’s face drew tight with concern. “Och, lad, what happened to ye’?” She rushed over and helped Saeran into a chair. Grey speckled her hair, and the harsh lines bracketing her mouth were more pronounced with her concern.

“A stallion and I came to a disagreement,” Saeran muttered, finally taking a breath. It felt good to sit down—no, amazing. What would be even better, though, was a trip to the creek. She imagined the cool water would soothe most of her aches.

The injury was too high up on her thigh for her to reveal to the cook. She smiled gratefully when Sabia brought her a cool rag.

Saeran reached out to take it, but Sabia waved her hands away. “I can do this. Ye’ just relax. I saw them bring in that giant beast a wee bit ago. It’s quite an impressive animal, isn’t it?”

“Aye, with quite an impressive kick, too!” Saeran laughed ruefully, even though it made every muscle in her body ache. The motherly ministrations of Sabia was the only thing that kept her from bursting into tears. “I just hope Blaine doesn’t come in—”

Her mumble was cut short when the object of her misery came striding into the room. Blaine stopped short when she saw Saeran sitting there, Sabia gently dabbing the sweat off her face.

“What in all that is holy is going on here?” she demanded, striding forward with her hands on her ample hips. Saeran sighed. “And what have I told you about sighing like that?” Saeran felt Sabia tense from behind her.

Blaine, like a predator sensing fear, snapped her gaze to Sabia.

“Is that part of your duties as a cook? Tending to him?”

“No, my lady,” Sabia murmured. Saeran sat up, scowling at her sister.

“Blaine, she was just helping me—”

“You’re a man,” her sister hissed. “You can help yourself!” She paused, nose in the air. “You smell. Bathe and then find me in the gardens—as I said to earlier.” Back stiff, she stormed out of the kitchen doors. Saeran stared after her sister, mouth open.

“I apologize for taking liberties I should not have,” Sabia said quietly from behind her. Saeran closed her eyes, cursing her sister. How could she be so cruel to Sabia like that? After everything the woman had set to order for them?

“No,” Saeran said, turning around in her seat. She took Sabia’s hand, and patted it gently, sighing. “I apologize for my sister’s behavior. She is having a hard time becoming accustomed to the order of the clan.”

Sabia’s lips tightened, but she nodded demurely. There was something on the tip of her tongue. Saeran could see it in her eyes, in the way she held herself.

“What is it?”

“It’s not my place to say, my lord. Excuse me. I have duties to attend to—” Saeran stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. I am not like my sister. What is wrong?”

“Aye, lad. I ken ye’ aren’t like yer sister.” A small smile lifted her thin lips. “Yer much nicer, even though ye’ let the men take a beating at ye’.”

Saeran blushed.

“Ah, my lord…” Sabia wrung the damp cloth in her hands, indecisive. “May I speak out of turn?”

“Aye, please.” Saeran knew servants had their places. However, she felt that though there were lords and servants, all were equal. Everyone was human and deserved a chance to speak their mind. Especially if it concerned her sister. Saeran had realized that her sister’s attitude was becoming worse of late. She wondered if others shared her thoughts—it would certainly clear some of the guilt.

Sabia looked to the floor, then met her eyes. “Lady Blaine plans to become Lady of Shaw lands.” She paused. “Correct?”

Saeran nodded slowly, watching the emotions flicker in the cook’s eyes. “Aye, she does. Is that a problem?” She was genuinely curious. Saeran had started to notice the control her sister was taking and thought that, yes. It might just be a problem—but she would never admit that to anyone

Sabia stared at Saeran for the longest time, then shook her head. “Nay. Excuse me, my lord. I have duties to attend to.”

She watched the woman run out of the room and felt a tightening in her chest. It was becoming clear to her how the people of the keep felt about Blaine and what she was doing.

Grimacing, she walked toward the doors. Her sister was correct; Saeran needed a bath. The thought of going near a horse again made the hair at the back of her neck rise, but her leg hurt too much to walk all the way to the creek.

She made sure no one was near, mounted her mare, and tucked her drying cloth in her lap. No one cast her a glance as she pounded out of the training area. She took the long way around the keep so that if anyone did follow her, they would quickly become bored and leave her.

Saeran had never taken a bath in broad daylight, but she was in so much pain that she didn’t care to hurry herself up. As her mare bounded over brush and fallen logs, the fresh scent of the creek overwhelmed her senses.

She was smiling when she slid off the mare. Quickly tying the reins to a fallen log with one hand, she pulled the pins out of the cap and tossed them into the flimsy piece of cloth when it was off.

A thrill went through her. Lord, but this couldn’t have happened sooner! She slid off the shirt, shoes and trews, letting them pile by the hat. Even with her aching leg, she managed to hobble her way over the green, prickly grass, and dip her foot into the water.

It was cool to the touch.

She laughed happily, wading into the clear blue stream.