“Aye. But what?”
“Something that frightened her.” Rhian felt sure of that, if nothing else.
Moira looked stricken. “D’ye suppose,” she asked in a hushed voice, “she saw her own death? She said—she said Rory MacLeod still lives. That being so, there will be further battles. As we learned wi’ Da, anyone can fall.”
It was true. Saerla might, or Moira. Or Farlan. Saerla would not want to say.
Rhian swallowed something bitter. “If we could persuade her to tell us, we might be better prepared. Keep whomever it is fro’ battle. Try to protect him or her.”
“Aye. ’Tis always my instinct, that, to protect. But sister, can one protect against destiny?”
“I do no’ ken. The way Saerla explains it, there can be more than one destiny laid out, like paths to be chosen.”
“She did tell me that, back when I was trying to decide wha’ I must do about my feelings for Farlan.”
“So aye, if she would tell us the danger, we might try to prepare for a choice, at least.”
Moira gave Rhian a hard look. “Ye maun persuade her to tell us. I think she will better confide in ye than me.”
“Will she?” Rhian doubted it. “If she believes she is protecting one o’ us, or all o’ us, by keeping the information to hersel’, she will never say.”
Moira squeezed Rhian’s hand. “Try, sister, will ye no’?”
Rhian nodded. “I will go and search her out just as soon as we finish here.”
“Fiona and I can finish. Ye go and find Saerla.”
It took the better part of the afternoon. Wherever Rhian went in search of Saerla, it seemed she had just left. The armory. The kitchen. The training field. At last she ran Saerla to ground on the battlements, having been directed there by no less than Alasdair.
The wind still blew hard up here, as it had earlier on the height. It seized Rhian’s hair and tore it from the loose knot she wore, scattering it around her face. When she clawed it out of the way, she saw Saerla leaning on the top of the wall.
“Sister?”
Saerla did not look pleased to see her. In fact, her expression revealed little emotion. Careful. Shut down.
So unlike Saerla.
“Wha’ are ye doing awa’ up here?”
“Naught.” Yet when Rhian first came up, she’d caught Saerla staring away across the glen. Toward the MacLeod stronghold.
She stepped into place beside Saerla, trying to decide on the best approach. “How d’ye feel?”
“I am fine.”
“Are ye certain? Ye did fall senseless, up on the rise.”
Saerla turned her head and looked at Rhian, her eyes wide and filled with mist. “I am no’ senseless now.”
“Nay, but—”
“I ha’ all my wits about me, sister.”
“Verra well. I only wondered—”
“Do no’ ask, Rhian.” Saerla’s voice throbbed with intensity.
“But ’tis plain ye Saw something troubling, something that has frightened ye. If ye share wi’ us what it was, we may the better seek to defend ye or whomever ye ha’ Seen.”
