Chapter 14 #2
Erica stared toward the darker far wall. “Folks think I am brave,” she said. “I feel like a woman who is very good at standing still while things happen to her.”
Grandmamma made a small, approving sound. “That is an honest line.” She waited a beat. “What are ye afraid of, dear?”
Erica swallowed. The words lined up. She plucked one at a time.
“I am afraid of wanting things I cannae have,” she said and let the words trail behind the cold night air.
She couldn’t exactly risk saying more. She didn’t even know what she was risking. All she knew was that Grandmamma had a listening ear and a calm voice. One that may very well lead her to admit things she wasn’t ready to face.
“Good,” Grandmamma said. “They say it is very important for us to learn what we want. Life is easier to maneuver once we can do that.”
Erica looked at her hands again and then at the older woman. “That sounds oddly familiar. Where did ye hear it?”
“Well, it should. Lady Bryden said it this morning during breakfast.”
Erica laughed. “Ye heard it from me maither?”
“Ye sound surprised to hear that yer ma is wise.”
“Nae at all,” Erica responded, stifling the laugh that bubbled up her throat. “Only taken aback a little.”
They sat with that.
A guard’s voice drifted near the inner gate and went away again. Somewhere above them, a shutter clicked shut.
“I ken ye have only spent a few days at MacMillan Castle, but I daenae believe I have gone too far to assume ye like it here,” Grandmamma said, picking up a loose thread from her shawl. “Ye seem calmer than when ye first arrived.”
Erica felt heat rise in her chest, a mix of pity and respect she did not want to call by either name. “Aye. This castle has been really helpful in that regard. Alex has done a lot for me as well.”
Grandmamma nodded. “He has.”
Erica looked at the lantern across from them. “I heard him say he doesnae want pity. I believe him.”
“Daenae give him any,” Grandmamma said gently. “Give him the truth. Men like Alex value honesty more than sympathy. It isnae always right, but it shows principle. Sometimes, that is enough.”
“And if I cannae give it,” she asked, “what then?”
“Then ye tell him ye cannae,” Grandmamma said. “It is that simple.”
Erica flinched. The ache that lived below her ribs shifted. “I doubt it is,” she said.
“I ken it,” Grandmamma insisted. “And I ken ye are a simple woman. That is why I like ye.”
Erica turned her head. “Ye like me.”
“Aye,” Grandmamma said. “Enough to frighten ye at night and tell ye things other people will try to dress in honey.”
Erica laughed, the sound genuine this time. “Like truth and honesty.”
Grandmamma’s eyes glinted. “Aye. Funny thing, the truth. Always has a way of circlin’ back.” She set her palms on the bench and pushed herself up with care. “I must go to bed. Stayin’ up late is askin’ for trouble.”
“Let me walk ye,” Erica offered, already rising.
“Nay.” Grandmamma lifted a hand. “I enjoy frightening people at night. And I suspect I will do more of it.”
Erica shook her head, smiling. “I believe it.”
The older woman touched her shoulder, a light press that felt like a seal on a letter. “Daenae stay out for long. Ye may nae feel the cold now, but it’ll get ye,” she said. “Go to bed as soon as ye can.”
“Aye.”
Erica watched as Grandmamma took the path to the door, cane tapping a steady count. At the threshold, she glanced back once, then vanished into the passageway. The small sound of the cane faded and left the courtyard to its own noise.
After a while, Erica rose from the bench. She took the narrow path that led down the far side of the grounds, where the torches thinned and the floor grew even colder, if that was possible.
She chose the bend that led away from the inner gate. There were fewer guards around here, and the scents of the garden were fainter. Even the air changed.
A splash suddenly stopped her in her tracks.
She had walked only for a few more minutes when she got to the path that led directly to the small lake at the edge of the fences. She had seen the lake on her first day and never again. Her window didn’t overlook it, and she never crossed it on her way to the garden.
She swallowed and moved closer, her curiosity getting the better of her. She hadn’t taken more than a few steps when she saw him.
Alex.
Her breath caught at the sight of him.
He stood waist-deep in the lake, back to her, skin pale under the moon.
He bent and scooped water with both hands, tipped it over his head, and let it run down.
It traced the line of his shoulders, the long cut of muscle along his back, the old marks that lived there.
The moon clung for a second where his spine narrowed, then slid lower and was lost to the dark.
Her breath caught again, longer this time. Heat and cold ran together along her arms. She stood very still, caught between two wrong moves. If she stayed, she would watch. If she moved, she would make a sound.
He did it again. Water over his head. Water down his back. She watched as he tilted his face to the sky for a moment, and the lines that guarded him in daylight fell away. From behind, he looked younger and tired, like a man who had carried wood too long and finally set it down.
She turned at once, clutching her shawl to her chest. Her steps were careful as she kept to the dry patches where the lake had not reached. One step, then the next. She made herself small, a piece of night slipping back into itself.
A pebble rolled at that moment, tapping another rock and making a sound that felt loud enough to wake the castle. She closed her eyes and stood still. Then she counted to three, then five, then ten, and set her heel down for the next step.
“Erica?”