Some of Senga’s anger seemed to dissipate. Suddenly, she looked bone-tired.
“I’m sure ye noticed that there was hardly anyone about,” she said at last, rubbing her eye with one knuckle. “That the convent’s quiet. The reason for that—as well as why yer absence hasn’t been noticed yet—is because the town is swarming with soldiers again. They got drunk and caused trouble. People were hurt, even a few were murdered. Our infirmary is full, and more keep coming. The soldiers are looking for ye.”
Freya felt faint, and sank down onto the edge of her bed. “I had no idea.”
Astrid spoke up. “There’s a bounty on yer head. Laird Grahame wants ye back. Aside from the soldiers, there were mercenaries and bounty-hunters. They came here, of course, but the Abbess turned them away. She told them, quite truthfully, that ye were not here—and ye weren’t, this morning—but they didn’t believe her. They aren’t permitted to break in and search without the Abbess’ permission, but that can’t last for too long.”
Freya’s heart sank deeper and deeper.
What have I done?
I should never have come here. Should never have put them in so much danger.
Freya opened her mouth, an apology ready to come tumbling out. Before she could speak, however, Senga spoke.
“I think we all know what made you dash off without thinking twice,” she sniffed. “Although perhaps if you’d thought for a moment or two, you’d have realized what a terrible idea it was.”
The hairs on the back of Freya’s neck prickled.
“Senga,” Kyla murmured reproachfully. “Stop it.”
“Why should I?Shedoesn’t think before she speaks. She’s gone blundering after poor Brendan ever since she got here, even though he made it as plain as he could thathedidn’t wanther. I hate to say it, Freya, but you’ve embarrassed yerself quite a bit,andbrought danger to us all.”
Freya rose to her feet, facing Senga.
“Oh, I’ve embarrassed myself, have I?Me?”
“Senga, stop. And Freya, ye aren’t helping,” Kyla said desperately, adjusting her spectacles. “Astrid, do something.”
Astrid only blinked at her.
Freya was not listening to anyone. She took a step forward, coming almost nose to nose with Senga.
“I think,” she said, her voice low and angry, “that ye are in no position to lecture me about what isembarrassingor not. I know all about ye, Senga.”
Color jumped into Senga’s pale cheeks. Clenching her jaw, she glanced at her companions.
“I’ve got no idea what ye are talking about.” she said stoutly, although her eyes were jumping here and there, palpably nervous. “Ye are talking through yer hat.”
“Am I? The Abbess told me that yer secrets were yer own business, and I shouldn’t pry. But not everybody here is quite so principled. I’m clever, and I can guess well enough. I know why ye have been here for so long, yet refuse to become a nun, Senga. Ye arewaiting.”
Senga flinched, as if Freya had actually aimed a blow at her.
Freya couldn’t stop. It was as if somebody else had control over her words, choosing what she would say, and calculating which would hurt most.
“Ye are waiting for aman, Senga. What, did he tell ye he loved ye, and that ye should wait? And ye just… just believed him? Ye cannot blame me for fighting for whatIwant, when ye are waiting and doing nothing. Brendan isalive. He’s real. He cares. Do ye really think he’ll come for ye, after all this time? Because I don’t, and neither does anyone else.”
Senga cast a bewildered look at Kyla and Astrid. Kyla dropped her gaze, but Astrid’s expression remained unreadable.
“Ye don’t understand,” she said, her voice small. “He’s different. We have a bond. We—” she broke off abruptly, shaking her head as if dazed. “I don’t have to explain myself to ye, or anyone else. Besides, my waiting hasn’t brought danger to the convent the way yer shenanigans have. If ye would just?—”
“I’ll not hear another word of advice from a woman who’s spent her lifewaitingfor a ghost. It’s pathetic.”
The words were out before Freya could stop them. She could have bitten off her tongue,wouldhave bitten off her tongue if it would have undone her terrible words.
But of course, that was not possible. She swallowed thickly, anger and panic shimmering inside her. There was a sick kind of exultation at seeing how hurt Senga was. She’d seen that spiteful joy on her father’s face, when he toldherthat she was useless, stupid, ugly, and should have been a boy, should never havebeen born. He’d never hit her, not once, but words could cut deeper than the lash from a whip.
Tears glimmered in Senga’s eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, then turned away.
