Chapter 23
Two days passed. Two days of ravens perched in the bare trees near the keep, their black wings a shadow against the winter sky. Two days of murmurs rippling through the village, fear growing as steady as the snow that drifted across the ground.
Fawn had heard nothing from her mother. Each morning, she woke with hope, each night she went to bed with unease pressing heavier against her heart.
Though her husband quickly changed that with his intimate touches or a heated look that fired her passion and had them tumbling into bed to put out the blaze or linger in it until the fire consumed them.
Making love with Rhodes was magical, each and every time. The intimate act brought them closer together as if each time they came together, they became part of each other, forever bound together.
Fawn walked through the village, Sprig nestled snugly in the pouch of her cloak, his little head poking out to peer at the bustle around them.
Yet there was little cheer in the air. Men kept their heads low, their work quick and clipped.
Women muttered to one another while keeping wary eyes on the sky.
Children, usually quick to laugh and play even in the snow, lingered closer to their mothers.
She came upon Sara and Elune near the weaving shed, both women speaking in low tones. They greeted her warmly, but even Sara’s smile did not reach her eyes.
“The people are uneasy,” Elune said softly, her wrinkled hands clasped around a basket she had yet to fill. “They see those birds and think of witches and the danger they bring.”
Fawn looked at the trees close to the keep. Ravens filled many of the branches and their numbers grew by the day.
Sara nodded. “Aye, they’ve whispered of it since dawn. None will pass beneath the trees where they sit.”
Before Fawn could answer, a harsh squawk split the air.
Heads turned upward. A flurry of black wings rose as the ravens swooped, chasing two doves through the sky.
The doves darted frantically, then veered toward the keep.
Hearts clenched as the birds flew straight through the open turret window, vanishing inside.
Gasps rippled through the onlookers as the ravens stopped short. They circled once, twice, before retreating to their perch on the trees, their cries echoing through the frosted air.
The villagers crossed themselves, some murmuring prayers. Sara pulled her cloak tighter, eyes wide. “Did you see that? They… they wouldn’t follow.”
Fawn steadied her breathing, her hand stroking Sprig’s fur inside her pouch to keep from trembling.
Relief flooded her, though she kept her face calm.
She knew why the ravens had stopped. The spell she had woven over the turret cautioned any dark force from entering.
She would have cast it over the whole keep but her skill was not that strong.
The truth pressed sharp in her chest. These were no ordinary birds. Dark forces were guiding them. Watching. Testing. And if her protection spell had kept them at bay, then whatever stalked them was nearer than she dared to admit.
Sara’s eyes stayed fixed on the turret window where the doves had disappeared, and asked with an edge of curiosity, “That’s where the warriors carried the baskets the day you moved into the keep, isn’t it?
Folk have been whispering since, saying they saw the lids shift, that the baskets weren’t empty. ”
Fawn’s pulse quickened, though she kept her voice even. “They weren’t. I brought the forest creatures I am presently mending with me. I couldn’t simply abandon them. That would be cruel.”
Sara frowned slightly. “But to keep them in the laird’s own turret—”
“It’s where they’re safe,” Fawn said firmly.
Elune, who had been silent until now, spoke softly, her voice steady but carrying weight. “Fawn does what few others would. She tends the wounded and weak. If the turret holds life instead of fear, then perhaps it should be praised, not doubted.”
Sara shifted, chastened but still uneasy. “Folk are not quick to praise what they don’t understand.”
Before Fawn could answer, a cracked voice split the cold air.
“They follow me still!”
The villagers turned as one, fear rounding many eyes.
Cander stood on the edge of the square, his staff raised. His eyes blazed brightly as he pointed toward the turret. “The ravens chase me wherever I go. They would not enter there because the witch already dwells within! I have brought death upon Clan MacBrair!”
Gasps and murmurs swelled. Fear rippled through the people like wind through brittle branches.
Sprig hissed from his pouch, a fierce sound for so small a creature, his fur rising as he pushed against the fabric. The kitten hissed again, his tiny claws catching Fawn’s cloak as though he longed to spring at the old man.
Cander’s voice rose higher, shriller, feeding the tension. “You think you are safe? Fools! The witch is near, and she commands the ravens. Death stalks these woods and now it stalks your clan!”
The crowd wavered, voices tangling in rising panic. Mothers clutched their children and muttered prayers while men took quick steps to their families.
Someone whispered, “The laird cannot shield us from this.”
A deeper, more powerful command suddenly cut through the square. “SILENCE!”
The word fell like a sharp blow.
The villagers froze, turning as Rhodes strode forward, the cold wind sweeping his dark cloak out like raven wings. His presence seemed to grow with each step, until he stood before Cander, towering over the stooped figure, his expression carved of iron.
“You will not sow fear in my clan,” he ordered, each word deliberate, his voice carrying to the farthest edge of the village.
“No doom, no shadow, no madness. If ravens circle, they will answer to me. If danger comes, I will meet it steel in hand. But I will not have my people torn apart by the ravings of one old man.”
Cander faltered, stumbling a step back, but his wild eyes still glinted.
Rhodes turned, his gaze sweeping the villagers. “Hear me well. Fear feeds on whispers. You will not feed it. Trust in your laird, and trust that Clan MacBrair will not bow to shadow or evil forces.”
The murmurs stilled. Men straightened, women drew breath, children quieted. The tide of panic, so quick to rise, ebbed beneath his command.
Fawn clutched Sprig close, but unease prickled her skin, an unease she hadn’t felt in a long time and one she had never wanted to feel again.
It lingered in the square. Darker. Stronger.
She drew in a sharp breath as the realization struck her.
What she felt was not from the people… but the presence of another witch.
Not any witch since the power was so strong, she sensed the presence of… a warlock?
Rhodes reached for Fawn’s hand, his grip firm but steady, and drew her toward him. “Enough of this,” he muttered, low enough for only her to hear. “Come away from the crowd.”
She went willingly, eager for the chance to warn him of what she had sensed, darkness, heavy and pressing, clinging to the air like heavy smoke. She had barely drawn breath to speak when a sudden rush of gasps erupted and a shout.
“A raven burst from the turret window!”
Black wings cut through the gray sky near the turret and Fawn froze, her heart slamming against her ribs… Rook.
The bird wheeled once above, releasing a sharp, piercing squawk. From the trees, the waiting ravens answered in a chorus, lifting as one into the air to follow. Together, the dark cloud of wings wheeled and vanished into the distance.
Fawn’s mouth went dry, shock rooting her in place. Rook’s wing had not yet healed. He could not have flown. Unless… unless some other power had seized him. Her pulse stuttered. Had she harbored evil all along, brought it into the very keep with her?
Cander’s cracked voice shrilled across the villagers, feeding the moment like oil to flame. “There! You saw it! The bird flew from the turret itself! Whoever dwells there is the witch!”
The villagers stirred, fear darkening their faces as their gazes turned. One by one… eyes settled on Fawn.
Fawn clutched Sprig tighter against her, the kitten pressing low in her pouch, hissing softly as though sensing the sharp bite of suspicion around them.
Her breath came uneven, her mind racing.
Would they believe Cander’s raving? Would they see her not as their laird’s wife but as a witch who had brought ruin to their doors?
Beside her, Rhodes’s grip on her hand tightened, as steady and determined as when he held a sword. Then, with deliberate calm, he stepped in front of her, broad shoulders squaring to shield her from the eyes of the crowd.
“My wife is no witch,” he said, his voice as cold as ice. The square went still, his words carrying to every ear. “Let no one here dare say otherwise or they will answer to me.”
A murmur rippled, unease twisting through the villagers until another voice rose to challenge it.
Elune.
She stepped forward, her gnarled hands steady despite the tension in the air. “There was no trouble here until Cander arrived,” she said firmly, her gaze fixed on the old man. “The ravens followed him. Not Fawn.”
All eyes turned again, this time toward the stooped figure at the edge of the gathering.
Cander’s cracked laugh carried through the cold. “And what of the sheep, hmm? The attack came after Elune arrived. Who’s to say it wasn’t her? Maybe it is she who calls the birds, she who whispers to beasts. Maybe she is the witch you seek.”
A collective gasp rose, the fear swelling like a wave ready to break.
Rhodes stepped forward, his presence a wall between Cander and the crowd, his voice thunderous. “Enough! I will hear no more talk of witches. Not one word.” His fierce gaze swept the villagers. “You will not tear this clan apart with suspicion.”
Silence fell, heavy but relieved. Shoulders eased, heads bobbed. The people wanted his certainty more than they wanted Cander’s fear.
Rhodes’s command rang out again, as confident as the blade he wielded in battle. “Cander, Elune, you both will return to your cottages since neither of you are familiar to us. Boyce, place a guard at both their doors. None enter, and none leave until this is settled.”
The villagers nodded, grateful for the order, relief breaking across their faces now that their laird had drawn a line.
Rhodes did not release Fawn’s hand as he turned and walked her through the parting crowd. Their footfalls rang against the frosted earth, the silence thick around them.
When the last eyes were behind them, Fawn leaned closer, her voice a whisper against the cold air. “Rhodes… I fear there is a warlock among us.”