Awaiting the Wolf Killer Highlander by Alisa Adams
5
Sorcha stood at one end of the long table in the great hall, feeling like a small child who had been called before her disapproving parents to be harshly chastised for bad behavior.
She tried to remind herself that such feelings did not befit a lady of her position, that she was not a girl anymore but a woman, and the leader of her clan at that. And most of all, that the scowling men who stood opposite her were not parents but merely a greedy old man and the feckless bullies who associated with him.
“There have been disturbing rumors coming from this castle since yesterday morning,” Ryan McKenna announced, jutting his rather prodigious chin out accusingly. “Reports of a cart leaving at first light, carrying your servant girl and this new guard of yours.”
“The servants and guards undertake many tasks in the running of this castle,” Edmund spoke up from his place next to Sorcha. “Most of them are beneath the notice of the lady of the house, and a great many of them involve carts, I should think.”
Carr snickered. “That is your response to such a charge?”
“We have yet to hear a charge,” Sorcha observed. “If it is your intention to make one, I suggest you do so rather than continue to waste my time with these vague and annoying insinuations.”
“So you claim, then, to have no genuine idea of where the two might have gone?” Currie asked.
“For all we know,” Edmund retorted, “they might have gone off to picnic together in some sunny meadow, which would be no one’s business but their own.”
“Would it not also be the business of the two children who rode with them?” McKenna challenged. “And since those children were your younger siblings, would that not make it your business…and the business of the rest of the clan as well?”
Sorcha did not know how to respond, and when she glanced over at Edmund, she could see that he was struggling to come up with a suitable answer as well.
“Nothing to say to that?” Currie inquired mockingly. “Do you deny, then, that you sent your ailing siblings—the heirs of this clan—away from here without telling anyone?”
“You see, I happen to have a theory,” Carr said. “I think that you learned of a cure, and rather than share it with the rest of the clan, you selfishly chose to keep it for your own loved ones.”
“It is a strange and amusing trick indeed, Carr,” Edmund remarked casually, “that although your lips move, it is McKenna’s voice I hear.”
Carr turned bright red and fell silent.
“If I were to send my brother and sister away,” Sorcha said through clenched teeth, “it would be to keep them as far away from you and your sycophants as possible, for I fear that you intend treachery and bloodshed.”
“You fear treachery from me?!” McKenna barked harshly. “For standing before the wrongfully appointed leader of this clan and asking perfectly valid questions regarding the welfare and whereabouts of its heirs? What a black joke indeed! I have ever been loyal and true in my service to your family! That is why I should have been made steward once Dand stepped aside, not a boy too young to grow a beard or a wee girl!”
“That is all quite beside the point, sir,” Edmund declared firmly. “Whether you agree with this state of affairs or not, Lady Sorcha was chosen to lead, and it is your duty to support her.”
“No, my duty is to the people who inhabit these lands, not to the nobles who ignore their needs and blithely watch as their loved ones die!” McKenna slammed his fist upon the table loudly.
“It seems to me that all of this might easily be settled to everyone’s satisfaction,” Currie sneered. “What if we were to simply go to the chambers where Freya and Aodh slumber and confirm that they are indeed in their beds as you claim?”
“Then I would remind you that you are in my home as a courtesy,” Sorcha snapped, “and that only this hall has been made available to you this day. If you choose to go beyond this area without my leave, it will be the sworn duty of my guards to strike you down as they would any intruder.”
“Is that so?” McKenna leered at her, licking his thin lips. “And how can you be sure that all of your guards still obey you, little girl? How, when they have seen so many of their fellows and family members struck down by this sickness, and all while the ‘lady of the house’ has done naught but sequester herself from her people and read every book in her library twice over?”
Those words felt like a sudden icy rain soaking Sorcha, trickling down her skin and chilling every inch of her. It was a horrible point to concede, but she had no choice. How could she have faith in the people who surrounded her each day? After all, at least one of them had told McKenna about the cart’s departure the previous morning.
She had spies all around her. And for all she knew, half of them meant her harm.
“At any rate, I see no reason for us to engage in such a demonstration,” McKenna said briskly. “Or at least, not this day. For now, we shall take our leave of you and this…foppish Brodie outsider who counsels you so poorly.”
Edmund’s face tightened, but he said nothing.
“But make no mistake, lass,” McKenna went on, “your time as leader is swiftly drawing to a close. Soon, your elders and betters will supplant you and restore this clan to all its former glory.”
And with that, McKenna withdrew from the great hall with Carr and Currie close behind.
“The only ‘glory’ I would restore the clan to in this moment,” Sorcha snarled once the door had shut behind them, “is that which existed before his odious birth!”
“Take care how you speak, my lady,” Edmund cautioned. “I take your meaning well, but there are those who might think you make light of the plague.”
“Yes, and now I must assume that my every word and deed is being scrutinized from the shadows,” she said bitterly, “and related to that hideous toad and his underlings.”
“That is correct, yes.”
Sorcha sighed angrily, smacking her palm against the tabletop (and pretending it didn’t hurt her hand tremendously). “At least I know that Freya and Aodh are safely out of these jackals’ reach. If only I could be as certain that they will heal from their maladies.”
“I must confess, I was surprised when you told me that you had chosen to send them away with this man,” Edmund said, “given that he is largely a stranger to us.”
“I had no other recourse,” she replied sadly. “They were perishing before my very eyes. I was forced to grasp at even the barest sliver of hope and to pray that sending Amelia along was enough to safeguard Aodh and Freya. I suppose we shall soon see whether such a course of action was wise.”
Just then, the door to the great hall opened, and Malcolm strode through.
“Good heavens, you have returned so soon?” Sorcha asked, delighted. “Are Freya and Aodh healed? May I see them?”
“Their healing will take a great deal longer than a mere day, I fear,” Malcolm answered, taking the letter from within his tunic and handing it over to her. “That is why I bade Amelia remain behind. I assumed you would wish her to watch over them. She wrote this message for you that you might know she is unharmed and staying with them of her own free will.”
Sorcha frowned and accepted the letter, scanning it carefully. “This does appear to be her handwriting,” she conceded. “And she does not appear to have been coerced in the writing of it. But why, then, did you come back on your own?”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “To remain by your side, my lady, during what appears to be a most troubling time for you. I thought you might welcome the safety of my presence.”
“And why should she assume that you are to be trusted when you are new to us, and even those who have served in this castle for years now seem eager to betray us?” Edmund asked.
“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?” Malcolm said, flashing his most charming smile. “I am a newcomer to your lands, and as such, I have no inherent histories or loyalties with anyone who might be your enemy. My allegiance could, perhaps, be swayed by the offer of riches. But then, since you are the lady of the house, I must assume that whatever offer I am made, you would be in a position to make me a better one.”
Sorcha looked at him for a long moment, then threw her head back and laughed. She tried to control her mirth as Edmund looked on, bemused, but every time she thought it was at an end, it seemed to bubble up within her again until tears rolled down her cheeks.
When she finally caught her breath, she said, “Thank you, Malcolm Haldane! I surely needed that!” She turned to Edmund. “You may take your leave of us now, Edmund.”
Edmund looked from her to him and back again, then shrugged mildly and left the room.
“Am I to assume, then, that things have not been harmonious in my absence?” Malcolm ventured.
“More members of my clan have fallen ill,” she told him miserably, slumping into one of the chairs at the table. “The healers have come to believe that this sickness originated from a specific well near the center of town, which makes a certain terrible sense. It was just outside the blacksmith’s shop, which was where Aodh took his sword lessons from one of the apprentices…and he drank water from it mightily as he exercised. The blacksmith and his son were next to be taken ill, along with others who lived near the well and made use of it, so it stands to reason.”
“It has since been sealed off then, I take it?” Malcolm guessed. “The well, I mean?”
“Of course it has. But whatever foul sickness originated in it has now spread far past it, from person to person and home to home. Finding its source has not allowed us to subdue it or to save those afflicted by it. If these people you know are not capable of finding a solution, I fear that every member of our clan shall expire.”
“But you have not fallen ill,” he pointed out. “Despite spending so much time in the company of your brother, the sickness seems to have spared you.”
“Yes,” she muttered darkly. “No doubt out of gratitude, since I am the true cause of it.”
He frowned, puzzled. “But you just said the well—”
“The well was tainted, yes. As a punishment from the gods, according to a crone named Davina.”
Malcolm’s eyes widened. “Surely you do not mean the old woman who calls herself ‘Davina, daughter of Elspeth’? Staggers about scaring people and delivering dire predictions of doom?”
“Yes, the very same! Do you know her?”
“We have had our dealings here and there,” he replied shrewdly.
“And you know her to be a fraudulent hag, then?” Sorcha asked hopefully. “Her portents and warnings are merely feeble flights of fancy, is that it?”
“I wish I could say that were true. But Davina is a sort of intermediary between the mystics who currently tend to your siblings and the world of men. It has been my experience that her words are best heeded and given weight in order to avoid a grim outcome.”
Sorcha put her head in her hands. “So she spoke the truth of it, then. This plague has occurred because our clan is cursed due to my leadership. Perhaps it would be best if I did step aside and allow that swine McKenna to act as steward.”
Malcolm sat in the chair beside hers and put his hands over hers, lowering them so he could look into her eyes. The way his emerald orbs twinkled at hers offered her much-needed comfort and reassurance. “I cannot speak to the existence of a curse, my lady, or whether you play a part in it. However, I have known plenty of men like McKenna in my time, and I can assure you of this: Once he has power, neither he nor his successors will ever give it up willingly, not even to a rightful Campbell heir.”
“Then what am I to do?” she wailed. “Simply sit back and watch my clan die before my eyes?”
“Certainly not. We shall go to Davina and ask her to provide more information regarding this ‘curse.’ Specifically, the most expeditious way to break it.”
“How do you know it can be broken?”
He beamed at her. “My lady, it has been my experience that every curse may be broken if one only knows how. That is the very nature of curses. Take heart! We will find your salvation, I promise you.”
In that blessed and blissful moment, feeling the warmth of his palms against hers, she believed it with all her heart.
