Isolde, though increasingly absorbed in her studies, always made time for Eamon when she could. These moments had grown more precious as the years passed, and Eamon cherished each one. Often, they would find themselves sitting by the fireplace in the library late into the evening, discussing topics that were far beyond his years.

“You must understand, Eamon,” she told him one evening, her tone serious but warm as they shared a moment of quiet reflection. “One day, you will have to make decisions that affect not just yourself, but everyone around you. It’s not just about being kind or strong—it’s about being wise.”

Eamon listened intently, trying to grasp the weight of her words. “But how do you know what the right decision is?” he asked, his young brow furrowing in concentration.

Isolde smiled faintly. “Sometimes, you don’t. You make the best choice you can with what you know. And you have to be prepared to live with the consequences, good or bad.”

Eamon was silent, absorbing her words. These conversations left a deep impression on him. He began to see the world not just through the eyes of a child, but with a growing awareness of the responsibilities and complexities that lay ahead. Isolde’s maturity was something he admired greatly, and he found himself striving to understand the things she spoke of.

But his days were not solely filled with these heavy conversations. When Isolde was unavailable, he spent many afternoons in the garden with Elspeth, who had a knack for turning every moment into an opportunity for learning. Today, they were seated under the shade of a large oak tree, surrounded by the scents of lavender, rosemary, and other fragrant herbs.

“Eamon,” Elspeth said as she carefully placed a handful of rose petals into a small bowl. “Would you like to help me make a perfume today?”

Eamon’s eyes widened with curiosity. He had heard of perfumes but had never seen one made. “Perfume? How do we make that?”

Elspeth smiled, her movements precise and graceful as she began to lay out small bowls and jars filled with various herbs and flowers. "It's quite simple, really. We'll use these flowers and herbs to create a scent. The process is delicate, but it’s also a bit like alchemy."

Eamon watched as she carefully crushed the rose petals with a small wooden pestle, the room filling with their sweet fragrance. She added a few drops of water to the petals, then mixed in a small amount of lavender and rosemary.

“First,” Elspeth explained, “we need to crush the petals to release their oils. The oils are what give the flowers their scent. When mixed with water or oil, it creates a liquid perfume.”

She handed him a small pestle and pointed to a bowl filled with lavender. “Here, you try. Gently crush the lavender.”

Eamon took the pestle, feeling the smooth wood under his fingers as he carefully pressed it into the bowl of lavender. He moved the pestle in slow circles, just as he had seen Elspeth do. The lavender released a rich, soothing aroma, and he smiled at the unexpected delight of it.

Elspeth watched him with a pleased expression. "That's it. Not too hard, or you'll bruise the petals too much. Just enough to release the scent."

As they worked together, Elspeth explained the different properties of the herbs they were using. “Rose petals are sweet and calming,” she said, adding a few drops of rosewater to the mixture. “Lavender is soothing, and rosemary is invigorating. When you combine them, you get a balanced scent that’s both relaxing and uplifting.”

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Eamon listened, fascinated by the way Elspeth spoke about the plants as if they were old friends with unique personalities. To him, it was like a new kind of magic, one that didn’t rely on spells but on the natural world around them.

When they had finished mixing the ingredients, Elspeth poured the liquid into a small glass vial. She handed it to Eamon, who held it up to his nose and inhaled deeply. The scent was light and fresh, with a hint of sweetness.

“It smells... wonderful,” he said, looking at Elspeth with wide eyes.

She smiled warmly. “You’ve made your first perfume. It’s simple, but it’s yours.”

Eamon felt a swell of pride. This was more than just a mixture of flowers and herbs. It was a piece of the garden, a small part of the world that he had helped create. He realized then that Elspeth’s lessons were not just about learning the names of plants or how to use them. They were about understanding the world in a deeper way, about finding beauty in the simple things.

"Can we make another one?" he asked eagerly.

Elspeth chuckled. "Of course. But first, let's clean up this mess," she said, gesturing to the scattered petals and bowls around them. As they worked together to tidy up, Eamon noticed a certain grace in how Elspeth moved. There was a quiet confidence about her, a calmness that contrasted with the more intense energy of his other sisters.

"Elspeth," he began tentatively, "why do you like making perfumes and working with plants so much?"

She paused, looking thoughtfully at a blooming lavender bush. "Because, in a world where so many things are beyond our control, this," she gestured to the garden, "is something we can create and nurture. It’s a small piece of the world that we can shape with our own hands."

Eamon nodded slowly. He was beginning to understand that there were many ways to influence the world around them, not just through grand actions and decisions but also through the small, everyday acts of care and creativity. It was a lesson that resonated with him, one that added another layer to his growing understanding of the world.

In the afternoons, when they were done with their lessons in the garden, Ailsa would join them. Today, she approached hesitantly, glancing around to make sure no one was watching before holding up a pair of small wooden swords she had hidden under her cloak.

“Do you want to spar?” she asked Eamon, her eyes gleaming with hope.

Eamon glanced at Elspeth, who gave a slight nod. “Go on,” she said with a gentle smile. “I’ll finish up here.”

With a grin, Eamon grabbed one of the swords and followed Ailsa to a secluded spot in the garden. The open courtyard was a small clearing surrounded by tall hedges, perfectly hidden from view. Ailsa raised her sword, her stance steady and her eyes focused.

“Ready?” she challenged.

Eamon nodded, raising his own sword to mirror her stance. They began to spar, the wooden swords clacking loudly as they struck against each other. Ailsa was quick and precise, her movements fluid and aggressive. Eamon did his best to keep up, but she was always a step ahead, her strikes fast and relentless.

“You have to be faster,” Ailsa instructed, her voice slightly breathless as they circled each other. “And don’t just react—predict my moves.”

Eamon nodded, trying to anticipate her next strike. He lunged forward, swinging his sword in a wide arc. Ailsa parried easily, countering with a swift strike that caught him off guard. He stumbled back, but quickly regained his balance.

“Better,” she praised, a fierce smile on her face. “But you need to work on your defense.”

They continued sparring until they were both panting and sweaty. Despite the exertion, Eamon felt exhilarated. There was something liberating about their secret training sessions, a freedom in being able to express themselves without the constraints of what was expected of them.

After they had finished, they sat on the grass, catching their breath. Ailsa glanced at Eamon, her eyes serious. “You’re getting better,” she said. “But you need to practice more.”

Eamon nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I will. And we’ll get even better.”

As they sat there, Ailsa turned her gaze towards the castle. “Do you think Isolde and Morwen would approve?” she asked quietly.

Eamon thought for a moment. Isolde would likely frown upon their sparring, insisting on the importance of propriety and safety. Morwen, on the other hand, might secretly approve, though she would caution them to keep their activities hidden.

“Maybe,” Eamon said finally. “But this is our secret, Ailsa. Something that’s just ours.”

Ailsa nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Our secret,” she agreed.

They returned to where Elspeth was, and she looked up from her work with a knowing smile. She said nothing about their sparring, but Eamon could tell that she knew. It was a silent agreement among the siblings—each of them had their own way of exploring the world, their own secrets and passions. And they respected each other's need to keep those parts of themselves sacred and free.

Later that evening, as Eamon sat with Isolde by the fireplace once again, he felt a growing sense of confidence. He was learning from each of his sisters in different ways, absorbing their knowledge, their skills, and their outlooks on life. These lessons were shaping him, making him more aware of the world and his place in it.

“You know,” Isolde said, glancing at him thoughtfully, “you’re growing up, Eamon. There’s a lot more to this world than what you see in front of you.”

Eamon nodded. “I know. And I want to understand it all.”

Isolde smiled, a mixture of pride and sadness in her eyes. “You will. And you’ll have to make choices that aren’t easy. But remember, you have us. We’ll always be here to help you, even if you have to face things on your own.”

As he looked into the flickering flames of the fireplace, Eamon felt a sense of resolve settle within him. The world was vast and complicated, but he was not alone. He had his sisters, each guiding him in their own way. And with their support, he was beginning to feel ready for whatever the future might hold.