Chapter 14
The morning light spilled across the floorboards of the Great Hall, though Hamish looked as if it were stabbing straight through his skull. He sat slumped at the table, muttering into his hands about “evil drink.”
Declan glanced toward the hearth where the cleric stood, his robe hanging uneven over his body and his hair unkempt. His eyes, however, were bright and clear, far too clear for a man who had matched Hamish cup for cup the night before.
“A blessed morning to you, sir,” the cleric greeted, his voice warm and pleasant, almost overly so. “And my lady. A fine morning to you both. I trust the night was… everything it should be for a night of consummation.”
Declan wanted this done and the cleric sent on his way. He had a servant pass the bridal sheet to him for inspection.
The cleric gave it a quick, approving nod. “Excellent. No room for doubt now. Your vows are solidly sealed.” He stepped forward with an easy smile and extended his hand to Declan. “You have my thanks for your hospitality.”
Declan took it. The grip was surprisingly firm for a cleric, but he met it with strength, the cleric lingering in it as if to prove his own worth.
“May your days be… memorable,” the cleric said, giving a shallow bow. Then, without offering another word, he turned and left, the door closing hard behind him as if the keep itself was pleased he was gone.
Aura watched the door a moment longer. “He’s far more jovial today than yesterday.”
“And eager to leave, yet he offered no parting blessing,” Declan said, his brow narrowing.
Hamish groaned. “He’s a strange man, though he can hold his drink. Now close the shutters before the light kills me.”
“The shutters are closed, Hamish,” Declan said. “You are no use to me hung over so badly. Go home to Freyda and let her fix you a concoction that will ease your misery.”
Hamish stood slowly. “First, all wonder if the marriage has worked a miracle.”
“Miracle?” Declan asked, then realized what Hamish was referring to. “Only one way to find out.” He looked around at the female servants. “Will anyone volunteer to see if my marriage has ended my curse?”
Mira stepped forward.
“Brave lass,” Hamish said.
“I appreciate your courage,” Declan said. “You will be rewarded either way, Mira.”
She smiled, tilted her chin up, and bravely stepped toward Declan.
Mira didn’t fall.
“Closer,” Declan said.
Mira didn’t hesitate, she stepped right in front of him, barely a hand’s length between them.
She smiled, remaining on her feet.
The few in the hall cheered.
Hamish held his head. “We’ll be celebrating more than just a wedding.”
Another cheer rang out and Hamish turned and slowly headed to the door.
The servants scattered, eager to spread the news that the marriage had ended the curse.
Declan started toward Aura when he tripped and stumbled, righting himself quickly.
Aura’s brow arched. “Are you all right?”
“Aye,” he muttered, glancing at the floor to see what he had tripped on, but there was nothing there. “Clumsy start to the morning. It looks like the marriage took care of the curse.”
“Or was it love?” she asked with a soft smile. “It is, after all, far more potent than exchanging meaningless words.”
“Then the curse will worry us no more since I intend to love you for the rest of our days.”
Aura pinched her leg under the table to make sure it wasn’t a dream that she was not just wed but wed to a man who loved her. Something she had never even dreamed of happening.
“You are lucky I feel the same,” she said playfully.
“I am lucky but more so blessed to have you as my wife,” he said as he reached the dais and tripped once again as he stepped up on the platform. He muttered an oath and called out, “See the floors are cleaned well today.”
Aura stood, his sudden clumsiness disturbing her. “I think it best if I go into the woods today and gather what is needed.”
“You’ll not go alone,” he commanded, approaching her.
“So eager to get to me, you don’t watch your step,” she said with a playful smile.
“More than eager,” he said, leaning down to kiss her when he reached her and she showed him she was just as eager to greet him.
“Once done in the woods, we can retreat to your bedchamber… for a rest,” she suggested in a soft whisper.
“Then we best hurry, for I feel the need to rest growing stronger.”
The woods had settled into their autumn hush, leaves crunching underfoot, light flowing through the thin, almost bare canopy above. The air was cool and damp, scented with moss and bark and the faint sharpness of berries left too long on the vine.
“I cannot believe it,” Declan said, a happy grin on his handsome face. “Not a single woman fell at my feet, and none rushed with desire toward me as we made our way through the village. I’m free.” His happy grin soured when he caught the frown on his wife’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“It seems too easily solved,” Aura said, moving with confidence through the woods, her eyes alert for what she was looking for.
“You said yourself that love is potent. Our love is so strong that it kicked that curse’s arse and that is all that matters. It is done, finished, never to darken our doorstep again.”
She stopped. “I hope you’re right and neither the witch nor dark magic has something waiting for us. Which is why I am going to craft us a strong talisman to keep evil at bay.”
She placed her woven basket on the ground before she knelt near a gnarled shrub, its limbs clawing crookedly toward the path.
Declan went to lean down by her when his knee gave way and he went down on it, though he caught himself before it could be noticed.
“Blackthorn,” Aura said, her fingers brushing aside a branch with practiced care.
“Look at the berries—dark, nearly blue. They’re best harvested just after the first frost, but these will do.
Used in charms for protection, reversal spells, and sometimes even severing bonds.
Healing-wise, I have discovered that the bark, once decocted, helps with breathing problems. Freyda has seen success treating such problems with it. ”
Declan remained kneeling beside her, watching her work. “You know all that just by looking?”
“I know what the roots taste like, too,” she said with a small grin. “Though I don’t recommend it. Bitter enough to turn a man inside out.”
He huffed a laugh, studying her as she clipped a few twigs, bundling them with practiced ease. Her hands were nimble but gentle, and he was reminded of how it felt last night when she touched his shaft and the memory caused it to stir and, for a moment, he forgot why they were out here at all.
Then he watched how she worked, and he realized he was curious about how her mind worked, how she knew the earth like a language he’d never been taught. He admired her for pursuing her interest even though it could bring her harm… mark her as a witch.
She straightened, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, cheeks pink from the chill. “There’s a patch of mugwort near the stream if we cut across the path—”
A sound snapped through the stillness.
Declan’s head turned sharply, hearing leaves rustling somewhere just beyond a small grouping of pines.
He reached for her arm, tugging her up beside him. “Stay behind me.”
Her brow furrowed. “What is—?” She hurried to look around and asked before he had a chance to reply. “Where are the two warriors you had come with us?”
Declan pushed her behind him and pulled his sword from its sheath. “Hunting a deer they spotted.”
A deeper shadow moved in the gloom of the pines. Two shapes emerged—lean, sharp-eyed, with the wary grace of predators. Their clothes were worn, their faces weathered and scarred, and their foul odor could be smelled from a distance. Neither looked like they belonged anywhere near decent people.
The woman carried a dagger, its blade catching a glint of pale light. Her grin was crooked as were her yellow teeth, and her eyes were cold.
“Look what we found,” she said. “A little lordling and his gather-lass. I’ll take whatever you have on you,” she continued. “That means your coin, your fine clothes, that will fetch a tidy sum, but that fine wool cloak, I’ll keep for myself.”
“You’ll get nothing from us,” Declan warned.
The man smirked. “We’ll see about that.”
Declan barely had time to warn Aura again. “Stay behind me.”
They lunged together. Declan caught the man’s blade in a clash with his own that jarred up his arm.
The woman darted past, reaching for Aura’s arm, only for Aura to twist away.
Declan pivoted, catching the woman’s wrist with the slap of his sword and forcing her back, but the man pressed forward again, his blade cutting dangerously close. But Declan managed to avoid it while delivering a surprising attack with his dagger he had pulled from his belt, slicing the man’s arm.
The woman grew furious seeing her partner’s arm drop to his side, blood pouring from it and slashed at Declan, but his dagger cut her hand, forcing her to drop her dagger.
Aura was quick to kick it into the underbrush.
Blood soaked the man’s dirty sleeve, and he groaned in pain. “We need to leave.”
“And fail him?” she said with wide-eyed fright. “He won’t accept failure.”
Declan’s gaze narrowed. “Who sent you? What was your mission?”
Neither answered, but their sudden unease was answer enough. The man’s grip tightened on his sword, though his stance had shifted—not to fight, but to flee—regardless of the fate that awaited him.
Through the trees came the pounding of footsteps and a fierce battle cry. Declan’s two warriors burst into view, weapons drawn.
“We’re done,” the woman muttered, and ran leaving the man to rush after her.
“Do we follow?” the one warrior asked with a quick look at Declan.
He shook his head. “Nay, they are not worth the chase. Stand watch while my wife finishes harvesting what she needs.”
Both warriors took a stance, their eyes alert to the forest around them.
Declan turned to Aura, a questioning look in her eyes. He knew what she thought without asking. “There is no point chasing after them. Their fear will keep their tongues tight. They will tell us nothing.”
Aura’s voice was steady, though her eyes flickered with unease. “Aye, they fear whoever sent them more than they fear you.” She hesitated, then added, “With that kind of fear, I cannot help but wonder if it involves dark magic.”
Declan sheathed his sword, his tone grim. “Then we’d best find out who’s weaving it since he obviously means us harm. And there is only one person who can help us with such evil magic… the witch.”