CHAPTER 24
ONE WEEK LATER
Evander stareddown at the letter.
Familiar, flowery script curled over the envelope, bearing his name. He knew who’d written it. She’d even scented the paper.
He was going to have to read it. She’d know that the letter had been delivered and would probably know,somehow, if he didn’t read it promptly.
Besides, if he put the letter aside and left his study, there would be people, and those people were going to want to talk to him and ask him things, and that he simply could not stand.
With a sigh, he tore open the envelope and began to read.
To my brother,
Your news has finally reached me. I’m so glad that Skye has returned! You must be breathing a big sigh of relief. I am thinking of you, I promise!
You must come and visit me soon. Ma is here with me, and she adores the baby. You must come and see us very soon—you are an uncle now!—and make it a long visit, please.
Maybe you could bring Skye? I’m hearing conflicting stories about where she’s been and what happened to her, but you know that I never listen to rumors. I’ll wait until you can tell me the full, true story.
I miss you a lot, you know. Life here is good, and I’m happy. Not every woman can boast of being married to a man she truly loves, with a baby, a castle, and a fine, loving family around her. Write back to me quickly and tell me when you are coming.
All my love,
Your troublesome sister, Erica.
P.S. Tell Skye I am asking after her. I thought about writing to her, but I thought she might be overwhelmed with settling in, and in any case, there’s a strong rumor that she does not remember much. I do not want to upset her, so I’ll wait to introduce myself in person. If her memories haven’t come back by then, of course! She’s going to be my favorite sister-in-law; be sure to tell her that! Maybe that’ll make her remember me.
Or not, you know.
Keep her safe, will you? And keep yourself safe. Much love from your worried sister, who has got a new baby to worry about and so has very little anxiety to spare for anybody else at this moment in time.
Evander allowed himself a small smile while he read the letter.
Favorite sister-in-law? Skye is her only sister-in-law, he thought wryly.
Carefully, he folded up the letter again and leaned back in his seat, arms folded.
A scrabbling caught his attention. Movement by the window drew his eye, and he glanced over to find a large raven perched on the sill, watching him with one midnight-black eye.
Ravens, and in fact all corvids, were remarkably intelligent. Evander had learned this lesson the hard way once, years ago. As a small boy, in an attempt to impress his friends, he’d hurled a stone at a raven. He’d missed, and the bird simply flapped off, annoyed. He’d thought little of it at the time, but later, as he ran through the twilight forest to reach home, a raven came diving down out of nowhere, its large beak glistening, and shot past him. Several more joined him, flapping their heavy wings around his head, their beaks pecking angrily at his shoulders and at his hands where they covered his head.
With many a scream of panic, he’d run home and told his mother what had happened. She’d only sighed and told him that corvids were clever enough to remember. They remembered those who’d been kind to them. They also held grudges.
And so they did. For about a week, every time Evander left the castle, a pack of ravens would attack him. In the end, his mother and Erica helped him put together an offering—seeds, nuts, berries, anything a bird might like to eat, as well as a few interesting shiny objects. He could still recall what artifacts he’d put out for the birds. A piece of gilt which he’d peeled off a chair, a matted clump of gold thread, a shiny button—several shiny buttons, in fact—and a brass ring.
The birds had descended. The ravens in particular had taken their time picking through the artifacts, and in the end, they were all gone.
His offering had been accepted. There had been no more attacks, and Evander had thoroughly learned his lesson. No more throwing stones at birds, or any animal for that matter.
He’d also learned the value of an apology.
The raven stared thoughtfully at him through the glass. He watched it, not daring to move in case he scared it away. After a moment, the bird lost interest and plunged off the sill and out of sight, no doubt circling the tower a few times before going off to do whatever ravens did when humans weren’t watching them.
Look at me. Sitting here, wasting me time with thoughts about what ravens get up to, when I ought to be working. I’m going mad.
He’d heard no word from either Laird MacColl or Laird MacCrimmon. If there was going to be war, he’d have heard by now. There’d been no attacks on his lands, no villagers terrorized.
