Chapter 24
ONE WEEK LATER
Evander stared down at the letter.
Familiar, flowery script curled over the envelope, bearing his name. He knew who’d written it. She’d even scented the paper.
He was going to have to read it. She’d know that the letter had been delivered and would probably know, somehow, if he didn’t read it promptly.
Besides, if he put the letter aside and left his study, there would be people, and those people were going to want to talk to him and ask him things, and that he simply could not stand.
With a sigh, he tore open the envelope and began to read.
To my brother,
Your news has finally reached me. I’m so glad that Skye has returned! You must be breathing a big sigh of relief. I am thinking of you, I promise!
You must come and visit me soon. Ma is here with me, and she adores the baby. You must come and see us very soon—you are an uncle now!—and make it a long visit, please.
Maybe you could bring Skye? I’m hearing conflicting stories about where she’s been and what happened to her, but you know that I never listen to rumors. I’ll wait until you can tell me the full, true story.
I miss you a lot, you know. Life here is good, and I’m happy. Not every woman can boast of being married to a man she truly loves, with a baby, a castle, and a fine, loving family around her. Write back to me quickly and tell me when you are coming.
All my love,
Your troublesome sister, Erica.
P.S. Tell Skye I am asking after her. I thought about writing to her, but I thought she might be overwhelmed with settling in, and in any case, there’s a strong rumor that she does not remember much.
I do not want to upset her, so I’ll wait to introduce myself in person.
If her memories haven’t come back by then, of course!
She’s going to be my favorite sister-in-law; be sure to tell her that! Maybe that’ll make her remember me.
Or not, you know.
Keep her safe, will you? And keep yourself safe. Much love from your worried sister, who has got a new baby to worry about and so has very little anxiety to spare for anybody else at this moment in time.
Evander allowed himself a small smile while he read the letter.
Favorite sister-in-law? Skye is her only sister-in-law, he thought wryly.
Carefully, he folded up the letter again and leaned back in his seat, arms folded.
A scrabbling caught his attention. Movement by the window drew his eye, and he glanced over to find a large raven perched on the sill, watching him with one midnight-black eye.
Ravens, and in fact all corvids, were remarkably intelligent.
Evander had learned this lesson the hard way once, years ago.
As a small boy, in an attempt to impress his friends, he’d hurled a stone at a raven.
He’d missed, and the bird simply flapped off, annoyed.
He’d thought little of it at the time, but later, as he ran through the twilight forest to reach home, a raven came diving down out of nowhere, its large beak glistening, and shot past him.
Several more joined him, flapping their heavy wings around his head, their beaks pecking angrily at his shoulders and at his hands where they covered his head.
With many a scream of panic, he’d run home and told his mother what had happened. She’d only sighed and told him that corvids were clever enough to remember. They remembered those who’d been kind to them. They also held grudges.
And so they did. For about a week, every time Evander left the castle, a pack of ravens would attack him.
In the end, his mother and Erica helped him put together an offering—seeds, nuts, berries, anything a bird might like to eat, as well as a few interesting shiny objects.
He could still recall what artifacts he’d put out for the birds.
A piece of gilt which he’d peeled off a chair, a matted clump of gold thread, a shiny button—several shiny buttons, in fact—and a brass ring.
The birds had descended. The ravens in particular had taken their time picking through the artifacts, and in the end, they were all gone.
His offering had been accepted. There had been no more attacks, and Evander had thoroughly learned his lesson. No more throwing stones at birds, or any animal for that matter.
He’d also learned the value of an apology.
The raven stared thoughtfully at him through the glass.
He watched it, not daring to move in case he scared it away.
After a moment, the bird lost interest and plunged off the sill and out of sight, no doubt circling the tower a few times before going off to do whatever ravens did when humans weren’t watching them.
Look at me. Sitting here, wasting me time with thoughts about what ravens get up to, when I ought to be working. I’m going mad.
He’d heard no word from either Laird MacColl or Laird MacCrimmon. If there was going to be war, he’d have heard by now. There’d been no attacks on his lands, no villagers terrorized.
No war, then. Andrew is dead. The other councilmen are on their best behavior. Watching a fellow councilman get decapitated would encourage a person to behave anyway.
He sighed, covering his face with his hands.
At that moment, a knock sounded at the door, making him flinch.
“Tea,” came a familiar, muffled voice.
Evander rolled his eyes. “If that is ye, Fergus, ye daenae need an excuse to come up here.”
The door swung open, revealing Fergus with a tray.
“It’s nae an excuse,” he responded with a grin.
“Normally one of the maids brings that up.”
“Aye, I ken. I wanted a chance to talk to ye.”
“Well then, talk to me. Here I am.”
Fergus moved over to the desk, pushing aside a stack of papers and crumpled rubbish. Gingerly, he slid the tea tray into the freshly cleared space. Evander noticed he’d added a second cup.
“Shall I pour?” Fergus offered pleasantly.
“I’m nae really in the mood for tea, but fine.”
He poured two cups and pushed one toward Evander.
“Now,” he sighed, settling into the only available chair. “Let’s talk.”
“That’s nae possible. I’m nae in the mood to discuss business matters. I’ve got enough to do.”
“Did I say business matters?”
“No gossip, either. Me head aches.”
Fergus pursed his lips. “It’s nae gossip. I want to talk about ye, Evander. Ye and Lady Skye.”
Evander tensed up at her name. There’d been no avoiding the mention of it.
The councilmen brought her up frequently, asking when she would return.
Evander had avoided giving a direct answer, but whatever reply he managed to cobble together was generally so sharp and angry that the councilmen didn’t bother to ask a second time.
Rumors abounded, of course. One popular rumor was that the woman who’d returned with Evander wasn’t Skye at all, only a woman who looked terrifyingly like her. That would explain the missing memories, they said.
Anyone who actually knew Skye angrily denied that rumor.
Another rumor which seemed to be taking root was that Evander had been cruel to her, shouting at her and even striking her, and she’d fled.
That one was easily disproved, since Clan MacCrimmon and Clan MacColl hadn’t declared war on his clan, which they would have done if there’d been a huge insult like that.
Another explanation—the most commonly accepted one—was that since the marriage had only ever been a political one, Skye simply didn’t feel obliged to stay.
“I understand it, ye ken,” he’d once overheard a maid whisper to her companion. “If I were in her shoes, I’d want to be safe at home.”
“Ye never would be in her dainty shoes,” huffed her friend. “Nae with yer massive feet.”
“Oh, hush. Ye ken what I mean. Keep Bryden is nice enough, but it’s hardly a home for her. When she was here before, she tiptoed around the place. I could tell how uncomfortable she was.”
“She’d have warmed up to it soon enough.”
“I suppose. Never had the chance, though, did she?”
The maids had moved on without realizing that Evander was listening to them, and he was happy enough to keep it that way.
They were right, though. She wasnae at home here. She didnae choose to leave, but by now, I reckon she’s beginning to understand that leaving was the right thing for her. This was never her home.
He imagined Skye at Keep MacCrimmon, laughing and joking with her brother, taking care of her mother, and getting reacquainted with her old friends.
She’d probably forgotten him already. It was impossible that she’d want to remember.
The thought made his chest tighten in misery.
But wasn’t that for the best? Wasn’t it ideal that she should forget him? He didn’t want her to be miserable. He should be pleased that things were going along so easily. Developing naturally, moving on. Her life was going on without him, and that was by far the best outcome.
And if he kept telling himself that, surely he’d believe it sooner or later.
“Is the marriage annulled yet?” Fergus asked abruptly.
Evander flinched. “I havenae gotten round to it yet.”
Fergus pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Ye havenae gotten round to it yet. That’s interesting.”
“How is it interesting?”
“By me calculations, an annulment isnae so easy to get.”
Evander heaved himself to his feet, moving over to the window. The raven was long gone, of course, but he noticed that it had left something on the sill, something that hadn’t been there before.
“We never consummated our marriage,” he responded crisply.
“Aye, but ye were wed for a year. Sure, she was missing for most of it—”
“All of it.”
“—but still, it’ll nae be easy.”
Evander said nothing, easing open the window. He still couldn’t quite make out what the raven had left.
“What is yer suggestion, then?” he muttered. “Stay married?”
Fergus stamped across the room, trying and failing to catch Evander’s eye. “I am suggesting that ye go and talk to her.”
“Impossible.”
“Ye keep throwing that word around. Impossible. But none of this is impossible, and I think ye ken that. Evander, ye have been creeping around this castle like a bear with a sore head. Ye are angry, hurt, and restless. Have ye ever stopped to consider why that is?”
Evander whipped around to face his friend. “Of course I ken why it is, ye bloody fool! I miss her! I want her back! She means more to me than I ever could have imagined, and now…” he trailed off, closing his eyes. “Now she’s gone forever. It’s all me fault.”
There was a brief silence. Then Fergus laid a tentative hand on Evander’s shoulder. “Ye are too hard on yerself, me friend.”
Evander closed his eyes. “Often, I think that I am nae hard enough. I let her go. I drove her away. And that’s that. She’s gone, and I have to go on without her. Annulling the marriage is the only way to free us both. It’s what she expects.”
“Are ye sure of that?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
Fergus sighed, his hand dropping from Evander’s shoulder. “I’m just afraid that ye might regret what ye are doing.”
“I’m a laird. There are no good choices for me. There’s a choice that will hurt some people, and a choice that will hurt many. I choose for the greater good, and that never includes me own happiness.”
After a moment, Fergus stepped back.
“It’s clear to everyone in this keep, meself included, that ye are miserable,” he stated. “We miss Lady Skye, and so do ye. Ye are moody. Ye snap at everyone. Ye hide in yer study. Ye prowl around the castle like a bear with a sore head. Oh, and when’s the last time ye trimmed yer beard?”
“Give over, lad.”
“I’m serious. If we can all tell that ye are miserable, that ye miss her, doesnae that tell ye that ye ought to do something?”
“Enough, Fergus,” Evander responded, his voice a little harder this time. “I ken that ye mean well, but this is me decision. I daenae take orders from ye.”
Fergus inclined his head. “I’m nae trying to give ye orders, me Laird. I’m trying to give ye advice, because I am yer friend and I care about ye.”
Silence fell. Evander said nothing, staring out the window.
After a moment, Fergus stifled a sigh, and creaking footsteps echoed toward the door.
“Daenae forget yer tea, Evander,” he said softly.
The door creaked open and shut again, and when Evander glanced over his shoulder, his friend was gone. The room was empty, and he was alone once more.
Turning back to the window, he eased it open, crouching down to fit his arm more easily through the gap.
Gingerly, he patted along the windowsill.
The awkward angle made his shoulder ache, and he was distantly aware that if he knocked the item off the sill, it would fall into the forest below and he’d never find it.
It’s probably nae a gift. It’s foolish to think so. The poor bird probably just left a treasure here, and now I’m about to steal it.
Something cold and circular shifted under his questing fingers. Swallowing, Evander carefully pinched at the item, drawing it back along the sill until he could more easily slip it into his hand. Once he’d drawn his arm back inside the window, safe and sound, he allowed himself to open his hand.
A silver ring glinted in his hand.
He blinked, sure that he’d somehow made a mistake. The ring was tarnished, to be sure, but it was certainly silver beneath all that tarnish.
Heart pounding, he tried to slip the ring onto his finger. It didn’t fit, being too small.
This is a woman’s ring.
Of course, the raven could have picked the ring up from anywhere. Ravens liked shiny things, and sometimes they discarded the said shiny things without any rhyme or reason.
Abruptly, Evander’s knees decided that they’d had enough, giving out from underneath him. Back against the wall, he let himself slump downwards, landing with an undignified thump on the floor, still staring at the ring in his palm.
“She doesnae care for me,” he said aloud. “She could have refused to go. I wouldnae have dragged her into the litter.”
The thought rang falsely in his head. After all, it was a rare person, without any self-esteem at all, who would insist—no, beg—to stay somewhere they weren’t wanted. And that wasn’t the kind of person Skye was.
And how do I ken what kind of person she is? We… We’re like strangers. There’s no reason for me to be drawn so strongly toward her.
He closed his hand over the ring, squeezing tighter and tighter until the smooth, curved edges bit into his palm.
A person could interpret this as a sign. After all, it was a little heavy-handed—a corvid delivering a woman’s ring, something that almost looked like a wedding band, right after a friend had urged him to go after her.
If I didnae ken better, I’d say that the Fates were giving me a sign. But I do ken better.
Evander climbed unsteadily to his feet. Almost without thinking, he swept up the cooling tea that Fergus had poured, downing it in one long gulp. It was good tea. There was cake on the plate too, but he knew without trying that it would taste like wool in his mouth and just as dry.
Fortunately, I am nae the type who believes in signs, he thought grimly, shoving the ring into his pocket.