Chapter twenty-four #2
I had to trust her. There was no choice, but deep down, I felt I could.
I met her gaze squarely. “Because I’m being watched verra carefully by Alec Buchanan, and I can ill afford to cross him outright.
He has gained permission from the king to wed me, and I currently do nae have any choice but to feign that I will go along with this. ”
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “I’ll do it,” she said firmly.
“I’ll have my most trusted maid take the missive to James Ross and send one to yer sister.
” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, crossing to a small desk near the window.
From a drawer, she drew out parchment and an inkwell, setting them on the desk.
“Write them now,” she said. “I’ll see they’re sent. ”
I moved to the desk, dipped the quill in ink, and wrote with careful urgency.
I wrote to James first, and each word stirred so much emotion in me that I was shaking when I was finished.
I looked down at my words of confession.
I’d told him of my curse, my heart, and Alec’s threats.
I sealed the missive and pressed it to my heart, praying to the gods that he would come to me as I asked.
To Millicent, I begged her to come to court and help me escape Alec’s plans.
When I finished, I handed the missives to Mary, who tucked them into the bodice of her gown.
“My maid will do this today,” she promised.
I returned to the stool, gathering my satchel and rising. “My guards will be growing impatient,” I said.
Mary surprised me by hugging me fiercely. When she pulled back, she said, “I feel I have finally found a friend.”
“As do I,” I assured her, smiling.
I moved to the door, where two guards waited just outside, their faces impassive. They fell into step on either side of me as I walked, their presence a reminder of my true status. Not a healer, not a guest. Prisoner.
The word settled into my bones as we walked.
Alec’s threats pressed against my ribs like a blade held just short of breaking skin.
I kept my eyes forward and my face composed, but inside I prayed with desperate intensity that my missives would reach James and Millicent quickly and that I could find a way to break free of Alec before the cage he wanted to put me in became permanent.
That evening, as my two guards escorted me to the dais in the great hall for supper, I took in my surroundings.
Iron chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, each strung with dozens of tallow candles that dripped wax onto the stone floor below.
The long trestle tables were crowded with courtiers in their finest clothes, their voices rising and falling in conversation as their hands reached for roasted meats and flagons of wine.
The air smelled of spilled drink and sweat, and of the feast’s rich, heavy scent.
As we approached the dais where the king sat in the middle, I was instructed to sit by Mary, so I made my way up the dais to the empty seat, frowning inwardly that Alec was on the other side of me.
I forced myself to nod stiffly to him, thanking the gods again that business with the king had kept him away from the bedchamber since I had returned from attending Mary earlier.
I looked to Mary, who grinned at me. “I requested that ye be beside me,” she said.
Something in her tone suggested there was more to say, but she could not say it now, so I nodded as I sat and took her in.
She wore a pale blue silk gown, her blonde hair was bound in a net of silver thread, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement.
She looked nothing like the frightened woman who’d wept in her bed that afternoon.
I’d barely settled on the bench and reached for my wine goblet when the king rose.
The hall fell quiet. All eyes turned to King Alexander. His face was ruddy with relief and something close to wonder as he looked out over the assembled courtiers.
“My daughter,” he said, his voice carrying to the farthest corners of the hall, “has been delivered from her illness by the skilled hands of Lady Katreine Wallace.” He gestured toward me, and I felt the weight of dozens of gazes.
“She must possess some magic, for my Mary came to me this very afternoon and told me she feels entirely well. I’m pleased to announce that I have negotiated a betrothal between her and Lord Ogilby. ”
A ripple of murmurs spread through the hall, followed by the clink of goblets as courtiers raised their cups in salute.
I kept my expression composed and my eyes on my trencher, though my pulse raced at the word magic spoken aloud in a hall full of ears.
One whisper, one rumor that I was more than a healer, and I would face deadly accusations.
Amid the noise of the king’s proclamation and the courtiers’ response, Mary leaned close to me, her voice low and urgent. “My maid went to deliver yer missive to James Ross this afternoon,” she said. “But he’d already left for Ross Stronghold.”
I clutched my goblet as waves of emotion hit me. I tried to control myself, to suppress the urge to cry that rose within me. I stared at the nearest candle flame, watching it flicker as the news settled into my chest.
“I’m sorry,” Mary added, her voice small.
I forced myself to take a sip of wine, using the moment to collect my thoughts.
James was gone. The words I’d written, my confession, my plea, had never reached him.
I’d placed my hope in a message that never made it, pinned my chance of escape on a man who might never know I needed him.
And I could not believe he had simply left without trying to see me.
Then again, he thought I was willingly betrothed to Alec.
I clenched my jaw to contain my hopelessness and my urge to wail.
“Were ye able to send the missive to Millicent?” I whispered, my lips barely moving.
Mary nodded. “Aye. My maid took it directly to the Wallace stronghold. It should reach yer sister soon.”
Relief washed through me, though it was tempered by the knowledge that Millicent might not come.
We hadn’t spoken since I’d fled our home years earlier, and I had deliberately not contacted my family to keep them safe from any harm I might bring them.
I had no way to know whether she would risk the king’s displeasure by coming to court, but I prayed she would.
“I need to reach James,” I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “If ye could send the missive to him at the Ross stronghold—”
“I will,” Mary said, squeezing my hand beneath the table. “Tonight, if I can.” Mary’s eyes held mine, knowing. “Ye love this James Ross,” she whispered.
“Aye,” I replied. “Thank ye for doing this for me,” I said, the words inadequate to express the gratitude that swelled in my chest.
I looked away from Mary, my gaze drifting down the high table to where Alec sat, his dark eyes fixed on me.
Had he seen us whispering? Did he suspect I was planning something?
The thought sent a chill through me. If he knew I was trying to reach James or Millicent, he would move quickly to stop me, to secure his claim on Renfrewshire and on me before either could interfere.
My time was running out. I needed James to know the truth about my curse, about Alec’s threats, and about my love for him.
I needed James. And I needed to reach my sister, who, if James refused to come, was my only remaining hope.
The scrape of a chair on stone pulled me from my thoughts. Alec had risen from his seat, his goblet raised, his expression one of pleased anticipation. My heart sank as he turned to address the hall.
“My lords and ladies,” he said, his voice carrying over the din of conversation.
“I would ask ye to raise a toast with me to a safe journey for my beloved betrothed and me to Renfrewshire.” He smiled, the expression not reaching his eyes.
“I can nae wait another second to travel to the home where we will wed. We leave at dawn.”
The room began to spin around me as goblets rose and voices called out blessings for our journey.
Somehow, I found the will to lift my goblet and arrange my face into what I hoped was a convincing smile, while fear curled cold and sharp in my belly.
We would leave at dawn. I was as good as caged.
Once at Renfrewshire, with the ceremony performed and the marriage consummated, escape would be much harder, and a life with James would be out of reach.
Knots lodged in my throat, and I had to gulp down wine for fear I’d start crying.
Time was torture for me. It had stretched on since the day of my curse, an endless, unchanging line, and now, somehow, it was both stretching and unchanging, moving with terrifying speed toward long years of darkness.