With Isolde and Morwen often occupied with their noble ladies' tutoring, Eamon began to spend more time with the twins, Elspeth and Ailsa. The gardens quickly became his sanctuary, a place where he could explore and learn at his own pace. Elspeth often took him by the hand and led him to her small corner of the garden, filled with herbs and wildflowers.

“These are lavender,” Elspeth explained, handing him a small sprig. “Smell it.”

Eamon lifted the plant to his nose, inhaling the calming scent. He watched as Elspeth moved among the plants with a quiet grace, her hands moving deftly as she explained the different herbs and their uses. To Eamon, it was like learning a new language, one spoken by nature and whispered through the leaves.

“Every plant has a purpose,” Elspeth said, her voice soft but sure. “You just have to know what to look for. This one, for example, can help with cuts and bruises.” She pointed to a small plant with broad leaves, her touch delicate and respectful.

Eamon listened intently, his curiosity piqued. He had never thought that such simple things as plants could hold so much power. Elspeth’s patience and her gentle way of teaching made him feel at ease, and soon he was able to identify several herbs on his own. They would spend hours together, their hands dirty from digging in the soil, as Elspeth taught him how to care for each plant.

One afternoon, as they were weeding around the herbs, Ailsa came bounding into the garden with her carved wooden sword in hand. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and her cheeks were flushed from running.

"Eamon, come on!" she called out. "Let's practice sparring!"

Eamon looked at Elspeth, who nodded with a smile. "Go on," she encouraged. "I've got plenty of work to keep me busy here."

Eamon jumped to his feet, eager to join Ailsa. She led him to a clearing in the garden, where they often practiced their swordplay. Ailsa's energy was infectious, and Eamon found himself swept up in the thrill of their pretend battles. Ailsa would instruct him on his stance, how to hold the wooden sword properly, and how to move his feet to keep his balance.

“You need to hold it like this,” Ailsa instructed, adjusting his grip. Her eyes sparkled with determination. “And keep your feet apart. Balance is key.”

They began their mock duel, the wooden swords clacking loudly as they clashed. Ailsa was fierce, her movements quick and precise. Eamon did his best to keep up, but she was always a step ahead, anticipating his every move.

Just as they were getting into the rhythm of their practice, the sound of footsteps on the gravel path made them freeze. They turned to see Lady Rowena, the head of the maids, standing there with a stern expression on her face.

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“Ailsa,” Lady Rowena scolded, her voice sharp. “What are you doing?”

Ailsa straightened up, gripping her wooden sword tightly. "Practicing," she said defiantly.

Lady Rowena shook her head. "A lady does not play with sticks," she said firmly. "You should be focusing on your lessons, learning proper decorum, and preparing for your future."

Ailsa's shoulders slumped, her fiery spirit visibly dimming. "But... but I like it," she muttered, looking down at her feet.

"You must learn to be a proper lady," Lady Rowena continued. "Put that sword away and return to your lessons. Your sister Elspeth manages to spend her time wisely in the garden, learning useful skills. You should follow her example."

Ailsa’s face flushed with anger and embarrassment. She dropped the wooden sword to the ground, her eyes fixed on the dirt. "Yes, Lady Rowena," she said quietly.

Lady Rowena nodded curtly and turned to leave. Ailsa stood there, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, fighting back tears of frustration. Eamon watched her, feeling a knot of anger form in his chest. It wasn’t fair. Ailsa loved sword fighting; she was good at it. But it seemed like everything she enjoyed was deemed "unladylike."

After a moment of silence, Eamon reached out and picked up the wooden sword. "Come on," he said softly.

Ailsa glanced at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But she said—"

"I know what she said," Eamon interrupted, his voice low but determined. "But I found a place... a hidden area with Morwen. We can go there and play. No one will find us."

Ailsa's eyes widened slightly. "Really?" she whispered.

Eamon nodded, offering her the sword back. "Yes. It’s a secret place. We can do whatever we want there."

Ailsa hesitated for a moment, then took the sword from him, a small spark of hope reigniting in her eyes. "Alright," she agreed. "Show me."

Eamon led her through the garden, weaving between the hedges and flower beds until they reached a secluded corner where a stone wall was overgrown with ivy. He pushed aside the thick vines to reveal a small doorway hidden behind them. They squeezed through and found themselves in a narrow passage that led to an overgrown courtyard.

It was a place of wild beauty, where nature had reclaimed the stone walls, and the grass grew tall and unchecked. Ailsa's face lit up as she looked around, taking in the secluded space.

"Wow," she breathed. "It's perfect."

Eamon smiled. "I thought you’d like it. Morwen showed it to me. She said it was a secret place where no one goes."

Ailsa's expression softened. For the first time since Lady Rowena's scolding, the spark of excitement returned to her eyes. "Let's practice here," she said, raising her wooden sword with renewed determination.

They spent the next hour sparring in their hidden courtyard, their laughter mingling with the rustling leaves. Ailsa showed him different moves, correcting his stance and praising him when he managed to parry her strikes. In this secret space, there were no rules about what they should or shouldn’t do. There was only the joy of their shared activity.

After a particularly intense round, they both collapsed onto the grass, breathing heavily. Ailsa lay on her back, staring up at the sky through the canopy of leaves above them.

"Thank you, Eamon," she said quietly. "For finding this place. For... not thinking it’s silly."

Eamon turned his head to look at her, her fiery determination softened in the dappled sunlight. "It’s not silly," he replied. "It's... it's who you are. And I like who you are."

Ailsa smiled at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling with genuine happiness. In that moment, Eamon felt a deeper bond form between them. They had created something together—a space where they could be themselves, away from the expectations of the castle and the weight of what they were supposed to become.

As they lay there, catching their breath, Eamon realized that Ailsa’s struggles were not just about being scolded for playing with a wooden sword. They were about the confines of the roles that everyone expected them to fit into. And for Ailsa, who was filled with energy and the desire to fight, those roles felt like a cage.

Eamon decided then and there that he would help her keep this part of herself alive. Even if they had to hide it, even if it meant sneaking away to this hidden courtyard, they would find ways to embrace who they truly were. In the quietness of their secret hideaway, surrounded by the wild beauty of the garden, they found the freedom to be themselves.

And in doing so, their bond grew stronger, fortified by the knowledge that they would always have this place—and each other—to turn to when the outside world became too much.