Betris had pressed herself into the musty-smelling arched window so she would not be noticed when they walked by, and her narrowed eyes caught the quill and slightly curled parchment in Ailith’s hands.
She bit her lip and tasted something.Blood.Betris had chewed at her lips while she pondered Ailith from her hiding spot.Her gaze followed their swishing skirts as they headed up the curved stairwell.
Something was thorny with the Gordon, now MacDougal, lass.
Betris was sure of it.
She leaned past the window to peer down the hall.William was off with Eoghan, and Ailith left her chambers with Sine.The chambers were empty, yet Betris had not heard a bolt secure the door.
I canna, she thought as her body rose without her permission.I canna snoop.
But what if Ailith was hiding something more?What if she was more dangerous than everyone else realized?What if it wasshewho was the witch and not her friend whom she fought over at Stonehaven?
What if this witchy fae Ailith had everyone beguiled?
Betris was not foolish enough to fall for her falsely captivating ways.
Her head buzzed, and she was striding to Ailith’s chambers before she realized she was walking.
Sliding her gaze up and down the hall, Betris pushed on the door, and it swung inward easily.With a final glance down the hall to make sure no housemaids approached, she slipped inside the chambers and closed the door.
The chambers were tidy enough, with a wardrobe containing their clothes, a well-worn trunk, a mussed bed with the furs thrown back, comfortably overstuffed chairs, and a table.
A table with a marked-up parchment on it.
Betris stepped quickly to the corner of the room, her eyes fixed on the parchment.Strange markings, splatter-like, lettering that didn’t resemble anything she had ever seen.What type of writing was this?
Suspiciouswriting.
She might not have spoken to a priest or abbot in over a fortnight, and her last church visit had been before Ailith and William’s wedding, but she knew that the church frowned on anything that smelled of paganism or druidism – things they considered witchcraft.They might not do a lot about it – their focus was on converting the whole of Alba as far as she knew – but those harmed by any witchcraft were entitled to recompense, especially when endorsed by the church.
And who was more entitled to recompense from all this woman had done than the Grants and MacIntoshes?
Pagan, changeling fae, witch – all of those fit Ailith.
Ailith’s leather satchel hung on the carved chair's back.With a hesitant finger, Betris flipped it open.Flowers inside.Purple bells and tiny, reddish-pink puddock-stools.
Why the plants?Was she planning something with them?To concoct some deadly recipe?
The more she looked, the more uneasy she became about Ailith.Betris's own brother was a dear friend of Ailith’s husband.What if he were somehow harmed by this diabolical woman, as her beloved had been?The thought soured her stomach.
Betris placed her hand on the parchment – the ink was wet, thick – and crushed it in her hand.She’d take it as evidence against the garnet-haired MacDougal.An excusable theft.
Something needed to be done to stop this woman.In that moment, Betris decided to take what she knew and this evidence and seek her own abbot’s counsel back at Ballogie keep.He and her chieftain, James Grant, would know what to do about Ailith.
Otherwise, the woman might hurt everyone around her – William, Mairi, Eoghan.
As she had already hurt Betris.
Somethinghadto be done.
William sat with Eoghan at the rear of the main hall, picking at his midday meal.A tankard of honeyed mead remained untouched next to his platter.He was only half-listening to Eoghan’s discussion of the dark-haired MacDougal lass who had caught his attention during the wedding celebrations.His mind was on Ailith.
She had told him her bizarre story of coming back through time to protect her puddock-stools, and while he believed her – on some level, hehadto believe her – it wasn’t set in his mind.He didn’t believe it the same way he believed Ailbert was his brother or his father was a widower.Nay, he believed it like one who hears of a boat on a sea-borne horizon that he has not seen himself.
In his mind, to make sense of her claims, he yet considered her more of a changeling.Thathe could understand.
Yet, as of late, more and more of Ailith’s story sank into his mind, as if the implausible storycouldbe true.And he loved her even more for trusting him with this scathing secret.
