“I've returned,” she said as she entered.
Inside, the rooms were close and warm. Eva's eyes moved to her mother, in the first narrow bed, her hair damp with sweat and her breaths shallow.
“Maither, I'm here. Daenae worry,” Eva whispered.
Her nine-year-old brother, Jason, lay in the second bed, his face flushed with fever as his small limbs twitched restlessly.
“Jason, shh, tis all right, lad,” she said.
Eva quickly crossed to him and dipped a cloth into the basin. She placed the cool compress gently on his brow, and then another on mother's, whispering soothing words though neither spoke.
“Daenae fash, Ma,” Eva murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair from her mother’s cheek. “I’m right here, and I’ll see ye through this.”
She moved back to Jason, tucking the blanket around his trembling shoulders with a tenderness that pricked tears into her eyes.
“Hold on, lad,” she whispered. “Hold on for me.”
As she worked, her mind churned with frantic thoughts, each one darker than the last. The memory of James’s empty jar haunted her, and the hopelessness in his voice echoed in her ears. Waiting for a letter felt like waiting for death itself to walk through her door. That was when the idea struck her, foolish, dangerous, but the only path left.
She stepped back from the beds and pressed a trembling hand to her chest.
I could go into the castle, slip into the healer’s stores, and take what I need. A thief in the night.
The very thought made her stomach curl with guilt, for the castle was protected by the guards, and stealing from the Laird was no small crime. But her family’s lives weighed more heavily than any fear or shame she carried.
Eva hurried to the small wooden trunk at the foot of her bed and lifted the lid. Inside lay her best dress, simple but neatly mended, a deep blue wool that brought out the color in her eyes. She changed quickly, pulling the fabric over her curves before fastening it with a worn belt. Then she donned her hooded cloak, pulling it low to hide her features in the deep shadows it cast.
She crossed to Jason’s bedside and knelt beside him, taking his small, burning hand in both of hers.
“Jason,” she whispered, even though she knew he couldn't hear her. “I’ll get ye the remedy, I swear it by everythin’ I am.”
His eyes fluttered beneath the lids, but he did not wake. Eva stood and moved to her mother, leaning down to press a kiss to her fevered brow. The heat radiating off her mother’s skin frightened her more than she dared admit.
“I’ll set things right, Ma,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “Ye’ll both be better soon, I promise.”
She pulled the cloak tighter around herself before stepping toward the door. The weight of what she was about to do settled like a stone in her stomach, but she did not falter. She stepped outside, letting the door creak shut behind her.
Her gaze drifted upward toward the massive silhouette looming over the village. Castle McLaren rose like a dark crown atop the hill. Eva’s heart thudded in her chest as she stared at it, the enormity of her plan settling heavily upon her shoulders.
The castle belonged to Laird McLaren, a man she had never met but heard countless stories about, a man said to be stern as winter, and twice as unyielding. To trespass within his walls was madness, but to do nothing was unthinkable.
Ye can do this. For them.
Tonight, she would enter Castle McLaren… and pray she would return with the herb that could save her family.
CHAPTER TWO
“That was a sorry venture, David,” Connor remarked as he rode through the castle gates with the weight of failure pressed hard upon his shoulders.
The courtyard bustled, yet every man who glimpsed the Laird’s storm-set eyes moved out of his way without a word.
David rode at his side. “Nay, me laird, was a good mission.”
Connor dismounted with the rigid tension of a man refusing to surrender to despair. He tossed his reins to a stable lad who nearly stumbled as he caught them, then looked at David with a glare sharp enough to cut through steel.
“I’ll nae pretend it was anythin’ but a failure,” Connor went on.
Twelve years had passed since that fateful day in the forest. An ambush had taken the lives of his parents and his little brother. Yet the wound felt fresh as the day it had opened. He had swornthen that he would never stop searching, never let the truth slip through his grasp. Time, however, had been a stubborn enemy.
