Slaughtaverty 1745

Many days have come and gone since Uilliam and Mairead Doyle got dragged through hell and survived.

For about a week, all the children did was sleep and eat and sleep again. Now that they've regained their strength, they are allowed to step into the duke's private, walled gardens to enjoy the gentle sun on their faces and fill their lungs with fresh air. The rest of the time, they spend indoors, playing with the toys of long-gone Slatherty children.

The Doyle children have never had toys of their own. To them, living in the mansion is heaven. They sleep in fine beds, have delicious food three times a day and get to play with each other all day long.

Nobody beats them or cusses at them.

Their bodies are slowly healing from past and recent abuses. Merry no longer has a dragging pain in her side. The damaged organ that, unbeknownst to her, was slowly killing her has returned to perfect health. Her eyes are as bright as the sky on a rare cloudless day, and no dark shadows mar their undersides like bruises. They are a bit light-sensitive but can spot a spec of dust on a windowsill from many feet away.

The first time Merry saw herself in a mirror, she shrank away from the face covered in scabs, bruises, and the long scar ruining her cheek. She thought of herself as ugly. Now, when she looks at herself, she gawks. Her skin has healed and lost its dryness. She bathes often, washing her glossy hair and cleaning her teeth. The girl looking at her from the mirror increasingly seems like a stranger.

It's as if she'd been given a fresh body, and Merry intends to take extra good care of it.

Her step feels light when she walks, and the limp she had due to an old hip injury is gone now. Her face is a bit rounder than it used to be, lacking in the gauntness of malnutrition. The stinted growth that kept her body stagnant, looking like that of a much younger child, is catching up. She's slowly growing taller, and her flesh is softening in a more womanly shape.

She was shocked and horrified when she finally got her womanly flow a couple of days ago, but the kindly nurse who has cared for the Slatherty children for at least two generations helped her understand what was happening and how to deal with it.

Merry was not uninformed about the nature of the female body; she just never expected to experience any of it since she was nearly 14 years old, and there was no sign of her body finding its way to adulthood. She wishes to speak to Taillte and tell her the good news... or Madrigal. No, not Madrigal...

Thoughts of Maddy bring terrible headaches with them.

At first, the children were fed the herb-infused blood tonic daily, but it has since been tapered down to every other day. When she realised what it was, Merry was horrified and tried to refuse to drink it. Hearing the age-old secrets whispered in the air, she finally understood that drinking a little bit of the duke's blood was necessary for their survival, and she was soon enjoying the benefits.

She is not the only one benefiting from the tonic and life at Slaughtaverty Manor.

Merry's heart fills with joy each time she sees her little brother. He also grew slightly taller in the few weeks they'd been here. He is no longer underdeveloped, and his once crooked arm - due to a break that did not heal properly - is now straight and strong. His cheeks are flushed with health, and he talks non-stop about everything he sees and experiences.

Merry loves hearing his voice.

When he woke up from his ordeal after sleeping for a few days, he'd been terrified and quiet. He just stared out in front of him or clung desperately to Merry. She only heard his voice at night when he cried out in his sleep.

The duke's nephew took his memories and his pain from him.

It took some time to obtain real results. Night after night, he would come and soothe the boy until finally, not even Merry could remember the horrible things Uilliam had experienced at the hands of the pig farmer and his daughter. His memories have faded to faint shadows; they no longer leak into Merry's dreams.

Today, the duke's stoic manservant brought the children into a large study with bookshelves lining all the walls, except for the one with the large windows overlooking the volatile ocean. Uilliam apprehensively slips his fingers into the palm of his sister's hand when the servant leaves, and they are suddenly alone in the sombre room.

Not completely alone, though.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with long, flowing black hair stands at the windows, gazing at the pages of the book in his hands. They are about to have an audience with the Duke of Ulaidh himself.

Swallowing, Merry squeezes her brother's hand, her eyes roaming the row upon row of bound volumes framing the room. They are beautiful. She doesn't have any use for books, though, as to her, they are just filled with paper with scribbles on them. Her family did not own any, but Maddy had shown her one with drawings in it. Neither of the girls could read and had no idea what the images were all about, but they loved looking at them, making up their own stories.

Merry enjoyed the drawings.

She wonders if any of the books here in the study have images. If not, there are plenty of paintings and sculptures to look at. Whenever Merry studies a painting that draws her attention among the myriad of others decorating the mansion's walls, her fingers twitch with a longing she doesn't quite understand. She felt the same longing whenever she'd seen the images in Maddy's book.

In her life, before she came to the mansion when Merry watched her father's sheep, she would try drawing on flat rocks using twigs and mud. She drew the sheep and the trees and decorated her art with leaves and flowers. She loved doing it even if her creations were washed away with the first drops of rain. It rains nearly all the time on Peace Haven.

From her few glimpses of the pages the duke is turning, Merry can see that there are only scribbles on them, no images. That is such a disappointment.

Books without images are of no use to her.

"We need to remedy that," the duke says, closing his book and turning his head to look at the children as if he only now realises they are here. His nephew often does this too, and Merry thought she'd become accustomed to it, but she still finds it startling to have her unvoiced opinions and questions answered.

She once scolded the boy, telling him it was rude to read her thoughts, and he'd assured her that he didn't know when she was speaking out loud and when she was not unless he saw her face. She could feel the truth of his words, but she also knew that he had a devious streak and loved to tease her.

"This book contains stories from all over the world," the duke says, and though his eyes have a cold sheen like polished pewter and he doesn't smile, Merry can feel warmth flowing from him. Her heart swells with it, her mind opening to welcome him in.

This man, exuding more power than Merry can comprehend, has forgotten how to smile. She can see the sorrow lying shallow in his eyes. She can feel it throbbing through his veins in a slow, painful rhythm. He has lived through a lot of despair but still stands strong.

"Your world will remain very small if you do not learn to read," he assures them.

Merry glances down at her brother and is not surprised to find him watching the duke's face with rapt attention. His eyes, as stormy as the ocean rushing the cliffs far below, sparkle with enthusiasm, a smile touching his sweet lips.

"Would you like to learn to read?" the duke asks him in his gravelly voice, the beginning of a smile lightly plucking at the corners of his mouth.

"Aye, to be sure, to be sure!" Uilliam shouts. "Yer Grace," he adds when his sister nudges him. He scrunches up his little face, his mouth opening in a grin, missing several baby teeth. Seeing her brother's enthusiasm, Merry's heart surges with joy. As always, it flows into heartache when her sister, brothers and nephew fill her mind.

She misses them, and she fears for them.

She heard that wolves killed their father, and she could only hope that his death was swift and easy and he did not suffer. She feels horrible, remembering that when she was grabbed in the graveyard, she'd wished for a moment that the fate about to befall her had been his instead. She's not sure what his death means for his children. He will no longer be around to abuse them or take their earnings to buy alcohol, but they are orphans now. She fears that they will be removed from the land and left destitute.

Merry worries that she and Uilliam are about to be sent away to join their siblings in their uncertain future. Though she misses them fiercely and would love to hold them all in her arms one more time, she does not know how they will survive if they have no place to live.

Choking back the threatening tears, she looks up to see the duke watching her with a sad expression on his face. It startles her since he always seemed completely devoid of emotions on all the occasions she'd glimpsed him in the passing weeks.

She remembers his anguish for his nephew, whom she'd thought was his son when she was fighting for her life after the attack that brought her here. Since then, he'd been steadfast in his lack of showing anything he might be feeling, at least whenever she saw him.

Merry is not sure if he'd just offered to teach them to read or was simply making an observation. She swallows nervously, searching his eyes for any clues to their fate. She does not share Uilliam's optimism; she also doesn't share the Slatherties' ability to hear people's thoughts. She only ever sees their thoughts when they deliberately show them to her.

"You saved my son, Mairead Doyle," the duke says in a soft voice, his eyes burning into hers.

His son?

This is not the duke's brother standing before her. The servant called him Your Grace and bowed to him. Besides, Merry has learned that the duke's brother, whom he loves intensely - she can feel that love entrenched in every building stone - is lying in a bed in this mansion, fighting for his life. This cannot be him.

Did the boy lie to her? Why?

"For that, I am eternally grateful," the duke continues, clearly not feeling the urge to answer her unspoken questions this time. "I will not let you or your family suffer. I promise you that. Your siblings have been well taken care of. Their futures are secured. I am afraid, however, that you and Uilliam will have to remain dead to the world outside these walls. This is your home now. One day, you might understand the danger if-"

He stops talking, tilting his head, looking pleased.

Yes, though Merry does not fully comprehend the Slatherties' secrets, she understands their darkness and the danger that could befall them all - the island and the inhabitants - if those secrets are used against them. Her heart breaks knowing she will never see or speak to her siblings again, but she understands.

"Oh, you'll see and speak to them," the duke hurries to add. "But only here on the grounds. You can never visit the town. At least not for a few years."

"I'll speak to them again?" Merry gasps in surprised relief. "Won't that cause yer secrets to become public knowledge, Yer Grace?"

"No," he says emphatically, leaving no room for doubt. "The Doyles are forever bonded to the Slatherties. What benefits the one will benefit the other."

Merry has no idea what he means, but her heart feels warm knowing she will speak to her siblings again. She will see Lorcan grow up. Holding onto Uilliam's hand a little tighter, she moves to the desks, standing side by side in the middle of the study, as the duke indicates. Her brother slips his hand from hers and eagerly sits down on a chair twice his size, expectantly resting his hands on the smooth surface of his chosen desk.

Merry lowers herself onto the seat at the other desk with much more dignity... and uncertainty. She looks up at the lord of the Slatherties, not sure she will be able to learn what he requires from her. She is terrified of disappointing the man who has shown them nothing but kindness since the day they got dragged into his life.

"One step at a time, my dear," the duke tells her, and to the girl's surprise, he finally finds his smile.

It's the most beautiful smile Mairead Doyle has ever seen.

~~~