Bravely(42)

But one spring, Elinor had told Merida it was time for her to see what a queen’s job was. She packed for an extended journey, and then they went on the first trip Merida had ever been on. It was wonderful.

The shielings were seasonal. Every fall, the crofters moved their cattle to the richer lowland pastures near the village, and over the winter, the cattle nibbled them to nubbins. In spring, the crofters drove the skinny cows up to the shielings, the sloping mountain pastures, so that the lowland pastures could recover.

It wasn’t just a place. It was a way of living. All through the warmer months, families lived in simple summer bothies with just bundles of heather as beds, and they ate oatmeal and cheese and butter and milk from the cows they watched, and they sang songs and traded stories under the stars. It was the very best of a simple life, and it was very different from the very best of castle life.

Merida flourished. Her hair never had to be tied away under wimple and veil. Every day was different. She was never asked to perform or pretend to be someone she wasn’t.

But, even more astonishingly, Elinor flourished. Elinor—delicate, cultured Elinor, so suited to all things royal—was a force of nature there among the bothies. Merida had never seen her so powerful as she was that summer, even in her plainest tunic and her hair knotted messily to keep it away from the butter she churned alongside the other women. All day long, no matter where she was, people came to Elinor for advice, and for plans, and to settle arguments. She never gave orders, but because she was so clever and fair, she ended up ruling the bothies anyway—not because she was their queen by name, but because she always knew how to set things right.

Merida had never thought she was much like her mother, but that summer, she’d never wanted to be like her so badly.

And part of Merida had hoped the trip to Kinlochy might feel the same.

But, walking along the wall with her mother, she realized she’d forgotten how just Elinor had come to mean never leaving DunBroch. She wheedled, “Mum! Please come!”

Ila spoke up in her dainty tone, “You said I did a very good job, ma’am. You said I made it easy to imagine being able to nip away, don’t you remember?”

Exchanging a look with Ila, Merida saw that her expression was conspiratorial. She was on Merida’s side. She added, “It’s only a few weeks!”

“If Aileen’s not cooking for the whole family, she’ll have time to help with the rest of the castle, too,” Ila pitched in.

Elinor gazed out over the darkening landscape. From here there was a good view of the loch, and it was golden and illuminated in the low light. There were a few swans still left, and they glided like dark dragons across the glinting water. Somewhere close by a fox barked. “This just isn’t the right time, girls.”

Merida burst out, “You always do this! You always wiggle out of it!”

“Don’t be mercurial,” Elinor replied, not raising her voice. They hadn’t fought for years and she wasn’t about to start now. “Look, there, two doves for Leezie. Don’t forget to tell her.”

“I don’t care about the doves! All this time you let me think you were going to go and now you just pretend like all along I was supposed to think you weren’t! It’s always excuses!”

Elinor’s voice got a tiny little edge to it. “Being a queen is not an excuse. It’s a duty.”

It was like a white rage came down over Merida. Her ears hissed with it. Her mind was full of Mistress mac Lagan telling her how Ardbarrach thought of DunBroch, and her cheeks went just as hot as they had been that day. “And what is a queen’s duty, Mum? What is it you do all day? Who are you writing letters to at your desk? What would happen if you stopped?”

“Merida!” Elinor said, sharply. Then, with obvious effort, she repeated in calmer tones, “Merida. That is inappropriate.”

“When is the truth inappropriate? You don’t do anything anymore! You just pretend to be a queen! Dad just pretends to be a king! The world is laughing at us! We’re not—” Merida pulled herself back from saying changing, because she didn’t want to violate the terms of the bargain. Instead she said, “Get mad, will you! Get angry! Shout! Do something!”

But Elinor didn’t lose her temper.

Elinor just looked at Merida, her expression sad and sweet. “I’m not mad, my darling. I’m disappointed that’s how you see me, is all.”

In the old days, this would’ve become an enormous row, and then mother and daughter would have made up and come to a compromise, and things would have been different on the other side. Now it was as though Elinor was just simply giving in.

The hiss in Merida’s ears was a roar. “I’m disappointed this is how you are!”

She spun and stormed away.

It was hard to believe she’d ever want to be like her mother again.





“WHAT a comely season!” Fergus roared.

They were on the journey to Kinlochy. Finally, finally. It was weeks later than they’d originally agreed upon; the plan had gotten worried to death, back and forth, dogs with bones, dogs with carved spoons. In the end, it was only Fergus, Hamish, Merida, and Brionn the spoon-eating puppy. Harris had been slated to come but was in trouble for biting Hamish; he’d been assigned a month’s worth of scribe work as punishment. And Elinor continued to be Elinor. Merida was still not speaking with her.