Sisters Three (Completed)

27. Morna (2/2)

Four hours later and they were just entering the small village of Nearstone, which stood on Glenfarrow property. Or, used to, would be the more accurate description. Until very recently, the people of Nearstone paid rent to Glenfarrow House, but Afton's grandfather had done away with that custom near the birth of Robert. The Glenfarrows had since made it a point to be generous in a similar manner to all those they met, and it became part of the reason the people of Anjeluund supported them so strongly against Revours.

As the carriage clattered into the village, Morna glanced out her window to see the people lined up along the road. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared into their expressionless faces. They didn't jeer or shout, yet hundreds of eyes weighed heavily on her.

Realizing she was still seated on Afton's lap for all to see, Morna squiggled to the vacant place on the other side of the carriage. Flushing terribly, she tried to hide herself in the shadows.

"I don't think the generals are the only ones we need to worry about," Morna whispered. "The people already hate me. Oh, Afton, I could cost you the people's support!"

Afton's eyes grew large, and then he burst into laughter that caught Morna so by surprise that she jumped in her seat. She frowned and crossed her arms to try and recover a little of her dignity.

"Morna, darling, the people of Nearstone are known for being stoic at first meeting."

"That doesn't mean anything," Morna said, slightly annoyed that he was still laughing at her. "Just because they're stoic doesn't mean that they're going to hate me any less."

"No, I meant that they're not angry at all. If they've all gathered together in one place that means they're holding a festival of some sort. Don't you see? They're celebrating our return!"

As he said this they passed through the center of town and a pub-band of three men struck up a simple and quick variation on the traditional Anjeluund wedding song. It lasted only as long as it took the carriage to cross to the middle of the square, as if they'd timed it, and then the population of Nearstone raised their hands and hats and cheered a long and loud hurrah.

Afton laughed again and leaned forward to wave out the window. Morna, still a little uneasy at the stares she'd received just moments before, hesitated. While she was immensely grateful that they weren't scowling and muttering like she was sure the nobles would be once they reached the house, she was uncertain whether they only cheered because their heir had returned after a long absence. She may be just as detestable and useless to them as she was to the nobles.

She was being ridiculous, she realized with a start. Whether they hated her or not, she owed it to them to act like their future queen. And future queens didn't give two brass farthings whether anyone liked her or not.

Morna stuck her head out alongside Afton and summoned up a smile from the depths of her being that harnessed every calm and steady and glowing thought she held.

The people all gawped at her, seeing what Afton's wife looked like for the first time. They must have liked what they saw, for the cheering increased and the gawps were replaced by genuine, if a bit small, smiles.

Her anxieties slowly melting away under the homecoming, Morna's wave became less stilted and her smile warmed. Afton bumped her shoulder, his eyes telling her I told you so, and then he kissed her right in front of the entirety of Nearstone.

"Hail King Afton and Queen Morna!" Someone shouted.

The sound of titles they did not yet own jolted Morna from the kiss. They were not yet king and queen, and for all they knew they never would be. Battles still had to be fought and the throne won. Being called those titles somehow felt almost like bad luck, and a chill ran down Morna's spine.

"Don't worry," Afton whispered. "They like you."

She did feel their love now, seeping toward her. The feeling was so strange, yet she wanted to thank each and every one of them. It made the inevitable return to the whispers and glares of the Anjeluund nobility a little more tolerable.

The crowds began to thin as they reached the outskirts of the village, and then silence reigned for the few remaining minutes of the trip. Morna could not quell her smile. Everything seemed in her favor.

When the carriage came to a stop in front of Glenfarrow House, and Afton helped her to the ground, Morna cast a look up at the fading façade. Now it was her home, truly, and she could see it for that instead of the imposing ancestral home of Robbin and Robert. She was a Glenfarrow, and fiercely proud.

As Afton directed the unloading of their few trunks, Morna waited in the path. She tidied the wrinkles from her skirt, bending over to drive out the worst offenders around her hem, when she came face-to-face with a shallow puddle stretching nearly six feet in length.

She froze, out of instinct, but nothing inside of her shifted. No hook snatched her ribs, no whispers in her head. Hardly daring to believe it, Morna took a step away. And another and another. Still the water didn't claim her.

Ready to laugh or cry or both, Morna rushed to wrap her arms around Afton's waist and bury her face in his chest.

And even though he didn't yet know why she would say such a thing, she still whispered, "Thank you, my love." She knew, somehow, that he had saved her.