What You Can't Undo

Prior to leaving for Varnhold.
 
Rain whispered against the windows of the townhall. The last of the advisors had trickled out hours ago, and Mairi and Euan remained—sharing a quiet meal by the fire, both hoping the evening would end uneventfully.
Then Seamus appeared in the doorway. He looked like he hadn’t slept properly in days.
Mairi raised an eyebrow. “This about Linzi again?”
He shut the door behind him and sat heavily on the bench near the hearth. “I think I’ve broken something I can’t mend.”
Euan straightened slightly. Mairi set her mug down with a gentle thud.
Seamus went on, voice low. “It’s been months. I’ve apologized. I’ve helped with her work. I’ve made space. I’ve tried to be kind without being cloying. But she won’t look at me the same. Not really. Not when she thinks I’m not watching.”
Mairi folded her arms. “Because you didn’t just doubt her. You called her a traitor, Seamus.”
He swallowed hard. “I panicked. There was treasury coin missing, and the paper trail said it was her.”
“She thought she was acting within the limits of her position,” Mairi said.
“I know that now.”
Euan quietly signed:
“And you didn’t just mistrust her. You named her. In front of others.”
Seamus nodded, face tight. “I didn’t think. I just reacted. She was new to the circle, quick with her wit, and always two steps ahead of me. I thought... I thought maybe she was playing some deeper game.”
“You didn’t see her as one of us,” Mairi said quietly.
“No,” Seamus admitted. “And I think that’s what really broke it.”
Euan signed:
“You’ve said sorry. But have you owned why you did it?”
Seamus looked at the floor. “Because I was afraid. Because I let my own doubt speak louder than her actions. Because I assumed the worst.”
Mairi’s voice softened just a hair. “Then say that. You’re trying to fix the wound without acknowledging where the blade came from.”
“I don’t know if she wants to hear it.”
“She might not,” Mairi said. “But if you mean it, you tell her anyway. And you don’t ask her to forgive you. You give her room to decide.”
Seamus rubbed a hand over his face. “You two ever forgive yourselves for things like that?”
Euan signed:
“Eventually. After we stop pretending it didn’t happen.”
Mairi leaned forward, elbows on knees. “You want to lead beside her? You don’t get there with flowers and tarts. You get there by standing in the truth of what you did, and showing her you're better now.”
Seamus sat quietly for a long moment.
Then he stood.
“Right,” he said, voice hoarse. “I’ll tell her. Not for her to make me feel better — but so she knows I finally see what I did.”
Mairi gave a faint nod. “Then you’re already on the road.”
As Seamus left the room, Euan turned to Mairi and signed:
“When did we become the ones giving wisdom?”
She chuckled. “You’ve been dealing out wisdom since I met you and I had enough to listen.”