Annista did.
She fell to her knees.
“Annista!” Father cried. “Pray get up. This is nay place to make a scene.”
A scene? Did he—he who had sent his gentle daughter to her death—not recognize grief when he saw it? Did he not feel any grief?
“Och, well,” said Earl Neilan softly, “let the lass greet.”
“I am no’ greeting.” Though as Annista climbed back to her feet, her heart did weep. She looked at the earl. “Why is her grave in this state? Has no one cared for it?”
He looked taken aback. “Indeed, we scarce had the chance. There was bad weather—”
“She died in September. Could ye no’ do her justice then?”
“Annista!” Father exclaimed. “Ye will show some respect.”
“Nay,” Earl Neilan lifted a hand. “The lass is right to question me. We ha’ been remiss.”
“Remiss?” Annista hissed the word and narrowed her eyes.
“We were waiting for the stone,” Alan spoke quietly. “Then the bad weather did come. Ye remember, it came early this past year.”
“We will, aye, ready the grave now, wi’ the spring,” Earl Neilan began.
“Nay.Iwill. I will care for her grave. No one is to touch it, save me.”
I am sorry, dear one. Annista thought, fixing her gaze not on the cold grave stone but the mound of earth beneath.I am here now. I will look after ye.
No response came from beneath the quiet earth. Was Robena here? Or had her spirit fled the place of torment where it had suffered?
I will bring ye justice, Annista added, the grief and anger fair choking her.
She did not notice the tears in her eyes until Father took her arm and said, “Daughter, let us go from this sad place.”
All three men were respectfully silent as they walked away.
****
Earl Kallan provided a grand dinner that evening which Annista, still lost in her thoughts and emotions, was unable to enjoy. She pushed her food about her plate until the others finished eating, her father and the earl exchanging elaborate and quite foolish compliments all the while. The two men had got what they wanted, secured their alliance, and would henceforth have one another’s backs during these uncertain times.
No matter that Annista had, to all effects, been sold for the purpose.
Alan did not speak to her even though he sat beside her at the table and when, the meal being done, she excused herself to her chamber, it was only Mistress MacKallan who protested.
“Will ye no’ sit wi’ me in the solar, that we might grow better acquainted?”
She should. She truly should. Mistress MacKallan might prove an ally of sorts and she had few enough of those at hand. But what sort of ally had she been to Robena? Would she be willing to support Annista if she knew she wanted naught more than to end Evan’s life?
“Goodnight,” Father called when she made her excuses, admittedly lame, to Mistress MacKallan and headed out of the hall. “I will bid ye farewell in the morning.”
Farewell.
As Annista climbed the stairs to the gallery and thence to her chamber, she wondered what her life here would be.
Likely whatever she made of it.
These people hated scandal. They indulged in political intrigue even as they maneuvered to avoid it. If she killed Evan—provided him with what he deserved—would they conceal the deed rather than have it known far and wide what their eldest son and heir had been?
