Chapter 3

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"So, what did they subject you to?" I murmur, taking off my shoes slowly. Symon removes his plaid, sighing.

"Gaelic, mostly. We went over the my ancestral clan- well... I guess, my clan now."

"Greer said it would take too long to teach me Gaelic- what with the southern accent and all."

He smirks. "I doubt you took that well."

"I didn't take most of the day well, to be honest."

"This is our life, at least for the time being."

"What if it doesn't have to be?"

He looks at me squarely, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Greer and her husband live in the place up the hill. They have the stone- or at least some of it. We know that."

"What if they used the last on us?"

"This is a family tradition for them. They have to have more or at least- have something that says where it's at. We find it and we can get home. To our normal lives."

"... What if I want this life?"

My hands freeze on the bed sheets and I look up at him, stunned. "Do you?"

"Well, it's obviously important that I'm here- that I do what I'm meant to do. I have- a meaning... I have power here."

A chuckle escapes my lips and I nod, understanding. "Always so power hungry. Tell me, have they told you yet that's a family trait?"

"Gillian, you need to control yourself in this time. I know you're not used to it but a woman doesn't speak out the way you do against a man. That just doesn't happen here."

"I know, a women is supposed to be weak and obedient. I'm supposed to go starry-eyed at the fact that you're all-powerful and bow down. Well, that isn't me! I will not be treated less than I deserve, which is why I ended things the night of that party."

"Much good that did you."

"Yes, much good it did me!"

Slamming his hand down on the table, his eyes pierce through my skin, ablaze with rage. "Look, Gillian, come with me or not. I really don't care!"

I close my mouth as he reminds me once again, without even knowing it, why I'm fighting with him in the first place. I'm replaceable to him. Have been since I met him.

And suddenly, I finally feel like I'm in the 18th century. Forced to shut my mouth and comply for the sake of my future. I lay down onto the pillow and curl up, facing the gray wall, waiting for him to blow out the candle.

When he does, I flinch at the fact that apart of me still believed he would reassure me that my life with him will not be one of longing, one of fear, one of inconsistency. But I'm smarter than that.

He doesn't want to be tied down to me forever anymore than I do him and that's our reality.

...

"Your ready for this, Gillian. I've told ye everything I ken."

I nod, touching the stallion's black hair, knowing she's right. The days quickly passed- before I even realized it, we'd been here weeks. Symon and I grew apart gradually, mostly due to never being around one another.

He spent his days learning weaponry and different clan customs- how to speak their language while I spent my days in Greer's botanical gardens and stuffy kitchens, learning things women are supposed to. To my shame, I've grown more tired, more resigned as the days have passed- accepting of this life, as I have to.

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