“And began with the bloodletting?” Tristan raised his eyebrows.
“Aye.” Morwenna nodded. “He is the best in the land,” she protested. “Your father put his faith in him.”
“And that faith has been ill rewarded.” Tristan looked as if he might run upstairs this instant and take the man to task. “How long has this bloodletting been going on?”
“About a sennight.” Morwenna sighed shakily. “I did not think to question it.”
Mirrie bitterly regretted planting this idea that the physician was not trustworthy in Tristan’s head. Once again, he was concentrating on the wrong thing. Instead of admitting his feelings of grief and sorrow, he was determined to try to fix a situation not in his control.
Because Tristan cannot bear to be not in control.
She dragged a hand over her eyes and heaved herself up from the chair. She ached from top to toe, although the long ride from Ember Hall already seemed part of another life entirely. “Should you not go to him?” she suggested gently, daring enough to take Tristan’s hand in her own. “This time may be precious.”
You should not waste it arguing with your mother, she wanted to add.
Tristan’s piercing blue gaze clashed with hers for a brief moment. “That is true.” He bit down on his lip. “There is not a moment to lose.”
He still held her hand, but she could tell from the far-away expression on his face that he was not thinking of this time in the solar, nor of the dying man on the floor above. Tristan’s sharp mind had gone elsewhere.
Morwenna took a few steps over to her husband’s desk and ran her fingers across the polished surface. “The times I would berate him for poring too long over his books…” she said sadly.
Tristan folded his arms and walked to the other side of the desk. His heavy brows drew together as if he was puzzling something out.
“I will return to him.” Morwenna sighed deeply. “You will come with me, Tris.” It was a statement, not a question. Then she smiled at Mirrie. “And you too, Mirrie, dear.”
Mirrie opened her mouth to protest. This was time for family and she did not want to intrude on their grief.
“What was the name of Frida’s friend?”
Morwenna and Mirrie both started in surprise at the question. Tristan gazed from one to another, clearly expecting an answer.
“Which friend?” Morwenna asked with a shrug. “She had many over the years. None so close to her as Mirrie, though.”
But Mirrie had divined the path of Tristan’s thoughts. “You mean the girl called Juliana,” she injected, quelling the sharp-edged emotions that threatened to surface at the memory of her name.
Tristan snapped his fingers and smiled in triumph. “That’s the one. Juliana. Dark hair. Tall.”
Morwenna shook her head in confusion, her weary face showing even greater signs of strain than before. “We have not seen the girl for years. Whatever can you want with her?”
“She was a healer,” declared Tristan, as if it was obvious. “One of the druids, if I remember correctly.” Shafts ofevening sunlight fell through the open window and cast golden highlights all around him.
A brightness so at odds with the darkness of their situation.
Mirrie stood quietly. On the one hand, she could see the possible wisdom of Tristan’s idea. On the other, she knew that Morwenna would never yield to it.
Morwenna had a deep-seated fear of sorcery. Even her own daughter’s youthful Sight had caused her some distress; Mirrie had always privately suspected that the countess felt relief when Frida lost her gift after her accident.
Juliana was as much a Seer as Frida had ever been. She had been raised amongst the druids. Perchance her gift may even have strengthened over the years.
Mirrie tightened her lips. In her experience, women like Juliana usually grew stronger over the years. More beautiful. More skilful.More powerful.
Rendering her more likely to attract the attention of those who thought witchcraft was a crime that should be punished.
Which was all the more reason not to bring her into Wolvesley Castle at a time when the respected judiciary, law-maker and peace-keeper, Angus de Neville, was fading from life.
Only Tristan would concoct such an audacious plan. She shook her head in disbelief.
But he caught her movement and now she found herself a prisoner of his piercing stare.
