Chapter 26
TEN MINUTES AGO
Was that a new crack in her ceiling? Skye thought so. There was a spider in the corner, busily spinning a web. She watched it from where she lay on her bed, the covers flattened and crumpled around her.
Stupid little spider. It’s a waste of time. The maid will come in later today with a duster and brush away yer home.
Although perhaps she would ask the maid to leave the cobweb. She’d get an odd look from the woman, but it would be worth it. The spider might catch a few of the flies that had been buzzing around the room over the past few days, annoying it.
It was her fault that the flies were here. She kept leaving her food trays untouched, and of course, the flies were attracted to them.
I ought to be hungry. I’ve been eating sparingly over the past few days. But nothing tastes good! It makes me feel sick. It sticks in me throat.
Her mother, of course, rarely let her go past a mealtime without at least eating a few bites. That was kind of her, but really, Skye would have preferred to be left alone. It was easier.
How long does this last?
No answer was forthcoming. The feeling, a heaviness deep in her chest, had plagued her since she left Keep Bryden.
And as the days dragged by with no word from Evander, the heaviness grew…
well, heavier. As if she’d swallowed a stone, a large one.
She could feel it when she moved, when she tried to eat.
Food and water fell on the stone, shifting in her stomach.
When she tried to sleep, the stone dug into her side, making it impossible to drift off.
“Ye can talk to me, lass,” her mother had said, over and over again.
But how could she possibly talk when she couldn’t find the words? Were there words for this?
Heartbreak, perhaps.
Oh, how Skye hated that word. It was something she might read in a fairytale, a story about two ill-fated lovers separated forever. Heartbreak sounded like something intangible, a kind of malaise, perhaps.
It’s nae like a sickness. It’s like a real break. A limb broken, a bone snapping. It hurts more than ye think it will, and it affects everything. Ye cannae move with a broken leg or a broken back. The pain spreads everywhere. Small things are harder.
She’d broken her arm once, as a child. Her right arm, the one she used most. The healers set the bone and wrapped her arm in a sling, and then all she had to do was wait for the clean break to heal.
Living without using that arm was strange. She’d reach for a glass of water, only to have a stab of pain remind her that it was the wrong arm. It hung across her body like a dead thing, useless but for causing pain.
It healed, of course. But would this break heal?
It feels deeper than that.
She closed her eyes, feeling a single tear leak out from underneath her lids. Surprising that she had any left, really. After her arrival home, she had done little else but cry, draining herself of water and salt. But no, apparently there was at least one droplet left.
Wonderful.
The door creaked open without warning, and she flinched. Pushing herself up on her elbows, she squinted at the door.
Helena slipped inside, bringing a gust of cold air with her, along with the smell of rain and the outdoors.
“I thought ye were going for a walk with Hunter,” Skye said. “Back so soon?”
Helena drew in a breath, smoothing down her skirt with shaking hands.
Frowning, Skye sat up properly, dangling her bare feet over the side of the bed. “Maither? What is it?”
“Ye had better come quickly and see for yerself,” Helena said. She sounded exhausted.
A tendril of worry uncoiled itself in Skye’s gut.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Maither. Please.”
“Just hurry. And put on yer boots; it’s raining outside. That thunderstorm is here at last.”
Skye obeyed, scrambling off the bed and thrusting her bare feet into her boots.
She didn’t bother with a cloak and immediately regretted it when she stepped outside her warm bedroom.
Cold drafts blew down the corridors, making the tapestries shiver.
Goosebumps rose up on her limbs. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.
Helena scuttled ahead of her, leaning heavily on her walking stick and moving faster than she ought to.
“Slow down, Maither,” Skye called. “Think of yer leg!”
Helena didn’t answer. She led her down endless hallways and then through the large Great Hall where they ate their meals. Or rather, where the rest of them ate their meals and Skye stared at her plate and wondered how much she could force herself to swallow.
The Great Hall was especially cold. Skye could see the open front door approaching, a white rectangle of sky glimmering warningly.
The storm was no surprise to anyone. It had been coming for weeks, and now the air pressure had dropped so abruptly that even a blind, deaf man would guess that something was about to break.
Helena reached the stone landing just outside the door. Hurrying over to the low wall, she leaned on it, panting.
“There. Look,” she groaned. “Yer braither is about to do something he will sorely regret.”
Skye glanced in the direction her mother was pointing. Her blood ran cold.
A large crowd had gathered in the courtyard, oblivious to the oncoming storm and the rain. Fat, cold raindrops fell all around her, pattering on her head and beginning to soak her hem.
She scarcely noticed them.
There, at the center of the crowd, stood Hunter.
Hunter and Evander.
They were face to face, the length of a glimmering, viciously sharp sword between them. Hunter was holding the sword, the point digging into Evander’s chest.
The sword had already pierced his skin. Blood trickled down his chest beneath the point, staining his thin linen shirt. The rain had made it look worse than it was, diluting the blood. Both men were soaked, hair plastered to their heads.
Something heavy surged up in Skye’s throat, a lump as hard and heavy as stone forming there. Evander had his hands hanging loosely by his sides, making no attempt to push the blade away. In fact, she could see his sword lying in a puddle a few feet away.
A strangled scream tore out of her throat.
“Hunter, nay! Wait!”
Both men flinched, glancing up.
Hunter’s eyes were dark with panic, wide enough for her to see the whites all the way around. Was it her imagination, or was his hand shaking on the hilt?
Neither man moved, and Skye threw herself down the stairs, slipping on rainwater. She plunged into the crowd, who immediately dispersed to let her through.
“What are ye doing?” she gasped breathlessly, seizing Hunter’s wrist. “Put down the sword.”
“He willnae fight me,” Hunter shot back, a little plaintively. “I told him to pick up his sword. I told him to leave, or else I’d kill him, but he willnae go. He willnae go, Skye!”
She tightened her grip on his wrist and glanced over at Evander.
He was already watching her, his eyes cool and almost serene.
Up close, she could see that the blood trail reached almost to his waist, and that a few droplets had landed on the tip of his sword.
The lump in her throat thickened, and she swallowed several times in an attempt to push it down.
The trouble with panic is that it could paralyze a person. With something terrible just on the horizon, the easiest choice was to do nothing. To sit on the ground, bury one’s head in one’s hands, and cry. Or perhaps wait for someone else to intervene.
Why didnae Maither stop this? She could have stopped it. But she came to fetch me.
Her gaze darted to the entrance of the keep. Helena stood still, watching them evenly and placidly. Her face gave away nothing.
Swallowing, Skye tore her gaze away from her mother and turned back to her brother.
“Think about what ye are doing,” she said shortly. “Ye are about to kill a fellow laird in cold blood while he is unarmed, in yer courtyard, in front of half the clan. Do ye think that’s a good idea?”
Hunter bit the inside of his cheek. “He insulted ye.”
“Aye, and I’m nae threatening to kill him, am I?”
“Skye…”
“Put the sword down, Hunter. Let’s talk like adults, eh? Put the sword down.”
Hunter’s grip wobbled, just a little. He briefly closed his eyes, then let his sword drop from Evander’s chest, the tip clanging against the ground.
Skye let out a ragged, relieved breath and took a step back. She glanced sharply between the men.
“Well then, let’s get to the bottom of how this has happened. Evander, what are ye doing here? Why on earth didnae ye leave when Hunter told ye to?”
“Because I need to speak with ye,” Evander responded calmly. His voice, deep and low and entirely unhurried, sent a shiver down her spine.
Swallowing, she averted her gaze.
I willnae do this again. I willnae.
“Then we’ll talk.”
“Nay!” Hunter snapped. “I daenae want him here. I want him to go, Skye.”
At that moment, a sharp flash of light signaled lightning above them. Barely two seconds had gone by before the thunder came, a low and angry growl. Around them, people glanced at each other uneasily.
Skye pressed her lips together. “He’s going nowhere, Hunter. Look at that storm. He’ll have to come inside.”
“I daenae care if he gets struck by lightning,” Hunter snarled. “He isnae me guest.”
She planted herself in front of her brother, hands on her hips, and stared him down.
“But he is mine,” she responded coldly. “I didnae invite him. He sent me away, true, but I’ll nae see him murdered here at yer hands.
That’s a fine way to ruin our hard-won peace.
Ye willnae have to see him. I’ll take him inside and hear what he has to say, and then that will be that, aye?
Just… Just let me deal with this. Please. ”
Hunter’s jaw tensed. His gaze slid over her head, fixing on Evander.
“Fine,” he spat out. “But he leaves the second the storm is over, regardless of whether it’s the middle of the night.”
“Very well,” Skye sighed. She turned away and found Evander’s gaze fixed firmly on her, intently enough to make her shiver.
Swallowing down her sudden trepidation, she made herself meet his eyes.
“Follow me,” she ordered tightly. “That wound needs to be seen to.”
Not waiting to see if he followed her or not, she strode off, cutting a path through the crowd. People moved silently aside to let her through.
She kept her head high, focused on the path before her. There was no sound of footsteps behind her. Perhaps he wasn’t following? That would be humiliating.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she turned, hands on her hips. Evander stood directly behind her, watching her thoughtfully. His steps had made no sound. He’d followed her without a word.
Her mouth had gone dry, the dryness spreading down her throat.
“Ye can fight well,” she remarked. “Very well. So, why didnae ye?”
“Ye are asking me why I didnae hurt yer braither?”
“He could have killed ye. I daenae ken why he didnae. He’s talked about killing ye often enough. Just a push of the blade, and ye would have been dead on the ground, yer blood puddling on the cobbles, nae water.”
“Indeed,” Evander agreed. “That could have happened easily.”
She growled in annoyance. “So why didnae ye fight back? Ye could have stepped away. Ye could have knocked his sword away. Ye just stood there like a… like a sack of flour.”
“A sack of flour, eh? Harsh.”
“Be serious.”
“I thought ye would have wanted me dead.”
She pressed her lips together. “Enough of that. Did ye bring the annulment? Or are ye simply here to update me on its progress? I’ve heard nothing from ye.”
“Nay,” he answered calmly.
She narrowed her eyes at him. Did that mean no to all of it? Was there no progress?
“Why are ye here?” she asked.
He took a long moment before responding.
The rain was falling more heavily now, spattering on the ground and lifting a soaking mist at least knee height.
The crowd had finally seen sense and began to disperse.
Somebody led away a horse which she assumed was Evander’s, the poor damp creature in need of a good drying down and some warm oats.
Hunter had gone. She was glad of that. There’d be no good standing here and talking honestly to Evander with him staring at them. Helena was gone too, and that was another relief. It would do her mother no good to stand out in the rain, getting soaked.
It occurred to Skye, belatedly, that her clothes were soaked through and stuck damply to her skin. She shivered, thinking wistfully of the warm fire still burning in her room.
“I wanted to speak to ye,” Evander said.
So that was it, then. He wasn’t going to add extra details until they could speak in private.
She pressed her lips together, her gaze dropping to the bloody stain on the front of his shirt.
“Well, we had better get out of the rain,” she mumbled.
At that moment, lightning split the sky once more, accompanied by an angry roar of thunder. The storm was getting closer. There was no space at all between the thunder and lightning, which meant that it was right overhead.
“Come on, in ye go,” she sighed, gesturing for him to step inside. “I’ll feel guilty if ye are struck by lightning.”
He obeyed meekly.
That was another strange thing.
Where’s his fire? she wondered, the corners of her mouth tugging down. He didnae fight Hunter. He’s nae snapping at me. I daenae understand. Perhaps it’s because the annulment has come through and he’s relieved. I wonder if he’ll marry another woman.
That thought made her chest tighten.
She swallowed hard, willing herself to be calm.
This is none of me concern. It stopped being me concern the second I left Keep Bryden.
Turning on her heel, she strode away down the corridor. He followed, and this time she could hear the gentle pat of his footsteps, slow and even. She was walking fast, in the hope of making him jog, but he kept pace with her easily, his long strides quickly catching up to hers.
Stupid tall man. I’d like to trip him up.
He gave a low chuckle, as if he could read her thoughts, and she glowered up at him.
“Enough giggling,” she snapped. “Once the storm dies down, ye are out, ye hear?”
“I hear,” he answered mildly.
She was not convinced.