When she’d awoken from her Vision travels yesterday evening, she’d been overwhelmed with relief to find herself alone. She’d sought out Chase to tell him of what she’d seen, but her relief had been short-lived when she learned it was too late to warn him. All that was left was to wait and worry.
While her hands performed the familiar task of straining the herbs, her thoughts drifted to the gates of Sinclair Keep, the stronghold she’d seen along the pathways of her Vision.
A sense of foreboding hung in the air this morning, thick and cloying, hindering each and every breath she took.
Perhaps that was due to the heavy dread in her heart. The images she’d seen haunted her. None of the paths that she had managed to explore had ended well. Not one of them.
Her only slim hope lay in her final fleeting glimpse of the future, in the small scattered shining holes where something—or someone—had been ripped from Skuld’s carefully woven tapestry.
The pot shook in her grip as she poured the hot liquid into the straining cloth. Its heat seeped through the pad she’d wrapped around the handle, burning into her skin, and she dropped it to the hearth as soon as she’d filled her cup.
If only she’d managed to warn Chase before he’d left. If only she’d never insisted the Elf interfere. If only she were smart enough to properly interpret what she had seen.
“If only, if only, if only,” she muttered, balancing the steaming mug of clear liquid as she sat on the rumpled blankets where she had tried unsuccessfully to sleep.
At some point she would need to dress, to eat, to prepare for the inevitable encounter with her brother. She needed to move all the bags of dried herbs from around the hearth, where Ulfr’s men had carelessly tossed them, to the upper tower. One random spark and her treasured herbs would be gone in a bonfire.
So many little tasks awaited her attention, but right now she hadn’t the strength of will to ignorethe dark clouds of sorrow hanging heavily over her.
Right now, she could only watch in her mind’s eye as the steed Chase had ridden galloped wildly from the Sinclair’s gates, riderless.
She lifted the cup to her lips, to sip the hot liquid, when the door was flung open, crashing back against the stone wall.
Her cup jostled, splashing hot liquid on her, but Christiana barely noticed. She had eyes only for the angry man filling her doorway.
“I’d have the truth from you,” Torquil snarled, his eyes wild with rage.
“I canna speak to you with any words that are not true, brother. Well you ken the limitations—”
“Silence,” he roared, kicking the door closed before he moved slowly in her direction, one foot after another like a beast stalking its prey. “The time for yer clever deceptions is past. I’ll no be making the errors I have in the past, allowing room for yer words to dance with the truth.”
Christiana’s thoughts raced, searching for what could possibly have happened to set him off.
“Neither Noble nor O’Donar is here for my benefit, are they? They were never meant to bemychampions, but yers. It’s yer preference for the future they serve, no mine, is that no the way of it? You’ve betrayed me in my own keep, have you no?”
He knew. Somehow, he’d learned the truth.
She desperately sought a way to divert himfrom his questions as she rose to her feet, but the fury on his face did not bode well for her success.
“Dinna bother to search for a clever riddle to put me off. I see the truth in yer silence. And I’ll be having no more of yer deceptions. Straight answers to straight questions, Christiana.”
“What would you have me say?”
If she could keep him talking, she had a chance. He loved the sound of his own voice. If she could get him to carry on, pontificating, he’d say something that would enable her to answer any question he might ask.
“Did you lie with Chase Noble? Is that why you were abed in my keep?”
Her heart stopped. “Why would you ask me such a—”
“No!” he hissed, grabbing her elbow to jerk her toward him. “No twists upon yer words, sister. Yes or no. Did you sleep with him?”
His breath came in great heaving pants, buffeting her face with each exhale.
“This is no the sort of question—”
“Yes! Or! No!” he yelled, and it felt as if the very walls of her tower shook.
“Yes.”
