Chapter Sixteen Murieall
I paced the length of my bedchamber, fingers pressed against my temples as if the pressure might somehow silence the chorus of pleas echoing in my mind.
The voices of the dead had returned with a vengeance since I’d opened myself to them, each one desperate to be heard, to have their unfinished business attended to.
Gone was the curse of hearing them; now came the responsibility of listening.
And with that responsibility, I prayed, would come Isabella’s voice again, clear enough to give me the truth I needed to help Munro if he’d ever speak to me again after my confession.
The look on his face when I’d told him the truth still haunted me.
Betrayal, rage, and beneath it all, a hurt so profound it had stolen my breath.
He believed I’d used him, manipulated him for my own ends.
And had I not? I’d come to Ross Stronghold with the sole purpose of making him feel again so that Morgana would lift my curse.
I’d never intended to care for his daughters or to fall in love with him.
Yet both had happened, and now I was trapped between my love for them all and my desperate need to hear Isabella’s voice once more.
“Find the dagger,” a gruff male voice whispered, louder than the others. “It lies beneath the loose floorboards in the third stall of the stables. My son needs it. Tell him his da left it for him before he rode to his death.”
I stilled my pacing, focusing on this voice. It was stronger than the others, more urgent. An older man, by the sound of it, with a burr in his speech that reminded me of the crofters who worked our lands back home.
“Who’s yer son?” I whispered back, earning only the repetition of the same plea.
I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes.
The dead were not always obliging with details.
They seemed to expect me to simply know who they were speaking of, as if their concerns were as clear to me as they were to them.
I would need to find this dagger and then seek out the man’s son; however, that might be accomplished.
Without giving myself time to reconsider, I moved toward the door, keenly aware that something had shifted irrevocably inside of me. Knowing Munro, loving him had changed me. It had set me free. I wanted so badly to do the same for him.
The corridor outside my chamber was mercifully empty.
I hurried along it, my skirts swishing against the stone floor as I made my way toward the outer doors that would lead to the stables.
My heart hammered against my ribs, not just from the exertion but from fear of encountering Munro, of seeing that coldness in his eyes again, of having him order me from his lands as he surely would eventually.
The afternoon sun was warm on my face as I stepped into the courtyard. A few servants bustled about their tasks, paying me little mind. I had nearly reached the stable doors when the patter of small feet split the silence behind me.
“Murieall! Murieall, wait!”
I tensed but forced myself to stop and turn toward Guinn and Bess.
They hurried toward me, their faces flushed with exertion, their eyes bright with determination.
My heart sank at the sight of them. Surely Munro had forbidden them from speaking to me by now.
I glanced nervously over my shoulder, half-expecting to see him striding across the courtyard to separate his daughters from the woman who had betrayed his trust.
“Ye should nae be speaking to me, lasses,” I said softly as they reached me. “Yer da—”
“Da’s gone out riding to think,” Guinn interrupted. “He’ll nae be back until supper.”
“We missed ye this morning,” Bess added, her small hand slipping into mine with such innocent trust that my throat tightened. “Ye were nae in the great hall to break yer fast.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Is that where ye saw her da?”
They both nodded.
“Did he…” I faltered, trying to think how to ask them if they’d been ordered to stay away from me. “Did ye say anything about me to the two of ye?” I finally settled on looking between them.
“Aye,” Guinn replied. “He said ye would nae be coming to the nursery today, because ye did nae feel well.”
So, he’d not yet forbid them from seeing me. Still, he had forbidden me from talking to them. He had probably not considered that they would seek me out.
“Are ye feeling better?” Bess asked.
“Aye,” I replied, deciding not to tell them of the da’s anger toward me. I would simply send them back to the nursery.
“What are ye doing now?” Guinn asked, peering past me toward the stables. “Are ye going riding?”
“Nae exactly,” I hedged, unsure how much to reveal. The girls watched me expectantly, their curiosity palpable. “I’m looking for something in the stables.”
“What are ye looking for?” Bess asked, her eyes wide with interest.
“’Tis nae of importance for the two of ye,” I said. “Now off yer both go, back to the nursery.”
Bess’s eyes immediately filled with tears that twisted my heart. “Ye do nae want us with ye?” she whispered.
“Nay,” I assured her, “’tis nae that.”
“Then why send us away?” Guinn demanded, setting her hands on her hips in a gesture that bespoke of a lass who’d had to grow up too soon.
I stared at her, unable to think of a believable reason.
Her lip trembled slightly as she looked at me, then turned to her sister.
“Come, Bess. Murieall does nae wish us around just as Da did nae for so long.”
“That’s nae true!” I said, but both girls had already turned away.
Bess’s shoulders hunched beneath her cloak, and as Guinn took her hand, sniffles filled the air, then soft crying.
My control snapped and took my good sense with it.
“Wait!” I called. “Ye can come with me, but it must be our secret.”
They were both before me, hugging me, before I could even blink. Their joy warmed me through, and despite knowing the anger I invited from Munro should he find out I’d spent time with them, I couldn’t bring myself to recant my words or regret them.
After a moment, Guinn looked up at me. “So what are ye looking for?”
“A dagger,” I admitted finally. “It’s hidden beneath the floor in the third stall.”
Her eyes grew round with excitement.
“Like a treasure hunt?” Guinn breathed, already bouncing slightly on her toes.
“Aye,” I said.
“Who asked ye to find it?” Bess inquired.
I crouched to their level, refusing to lie. There’d been too much of that already, and my gut told me that to lie to them now would not please Isabella at all and make her less inclined to speak with me again. “A man asked me to locate it for his son. A man who has passed on.”
“Ye mean a ghost?” she whispered, excitement rather than fear in her voice.
I swallowed, knowing the only choice for me was to continue with the truth. “Aye, lass. I hear ghosts. Do ye remember me telling ye both on the first day I met ye, that I was cursed?”
They nodded.
“Well, I was wrong. The witch did nae curse me. She gave me a gift, and I must use it to help others.”
“Is it scary to hear the voices?” Bess asked, her voice hushed.
“Sometimes,” I admitted. “But they just need help.” I straightened, casting a nervous glance across the courtyard. “Let’s be quick about it, then.”
As we slipped into the dim interior of the stables, the girls skipped ahead of me, whispering to each other in that conspiratorial way of children sharing an adventure.
I followed more cautiously, fear of discovery making my shoulders tense, my movements wary.
If Munro found us, his anger would be terrible to behold.
Yet watching Guinn and Bess bounce with excitement ahead of me, I still couldn’t bring myself to regret including them.
I was more certain than ever that this is what it meant to truly live.
You had to take risks, to follow your heart rather than carefully laid plans.
And perhaps, just perhaps, this was the path that would lead me to Isabella’s voice once more, and through her, to the truth that might heal Munro completely.
The stable air hung thick with the scents of hay, horse, and damp earth as the three of us crept toward the third stall.
My fingers trailed along the rough wooden walls, collecting splinters and dust as I went.
A bay gelding watched us curiously, his large eyes following our movements as we slipped past. Guinn led the way, her small shoulders set with determination, while Bess stayed close to my side, her hand occasionally reaching for mine when a horse nickered or shifted in its stall.
“This is the third one,” Guinn announced in a stage whisper, stopping before a stall that housed a dappled mare. The horse regarded us with mild interest, munching contentedly on a mouthful of hay.
I glanced around nervously, half-expecting to see one of the stable hands appear. “We’ll need to move her,” I said, eyeing the mare. “Guinn, can ye lead her out while Bess and I check the floor?”
Guinn nodded eagerly, slipping into the stall with the confidence of a child who’d spent her life around horses. She murmured soothingly to the mare, taking hold of her halter and guiding her out into the center aisle of the stable. The mare followed docilely.
“Now what?” Bess asked, looking up at me with wide eyes once the stall was empty.
“We look for loose floorboards,” I explained, dropping to my knees on the straw-covered floor. The straw was damp and smelled faintly of urine, despite having been recently changed. I pushed it aside, running my hands over the wooden boards beneath.
Bess knelt beside me, her small hands mimicking my movements, though her nose wrinkled at the smells. “Is the ghost here now?” she whispered. “Watching us?”
I paused, listening for the voice that had guided me here. “I do nae ken,” I admitted. “Sometimes they speak and then are gone. Sometimes they linger.”
“How many can ye hear?” Guinn called from where she stood with the mare.