Page 47 of Leila’s Legacy

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Leila hugged herself in the cold quiet of her room. It had been so easy to adjust to the bustle of activity when she’d been healing Lady Davina. Her mind had been focused on caring for someone ill rather than overwhelmed with worry for her father.

Lady Davina’s room had been as sumptuous as Leila’s had been back at Werrick Castle, with tapestries and plush bedding, as well as various other luxuries that extended beyond a simple bed and an abandoned trunk.

Even more delightful than her surroundings had been the companionship. Ana’s matter-of-fact personality and the gentle kindness of Lady Davina. In the last few days, Lady Davina had been awake and speaking, her concern always on others.

Leila squeezed her arms tighter around herself. She was a prisoner again, confined in the cold tower chamber, alone, empty. A familiar burning ache clenched at the back of her throat.

Footsteps sounded against the stone stairs leading up to her chamber, crisp with authority, but still gentle. Niall. The loneliness began to ebb at the very thought of seeing him. He had said he loved her in those precious seconds that they were alone. Before she had been able to wrap her heart around his declaration, before she could even compose a reply, he was gone.

He let himself into her chamber and locked the door behind him. Leila rushed forward, anticipating the softness of his lips on hers once more, the strength of his body like a wall against her. But the fullness of his mouth was drawn into a grim line and he did not come at her with mutual eagerness. Nay, he stood for a long moment, as though unsure of what to say.

“What is it?” Fear turned her heart to a block of ice. “My father.”

“Nay, ’tis no’ yer da.” He glanced down at the parchment in his hand. “Father Gerard is dead.”

She frowned in confusion. “He was the priest who was to determine if I am a witch or not, correct?”

Niall nodded and extended the missive in his hand for her to see. “I’m to take his place.”

“You’re to judge me?” she asked slowly.

A muscle in his jaw. “I have questions to ask ye.”

“I’m no witch,” she said with vehemence. If he loved her as he had so recently claimed, surely, he would not even question her innocence of such a preposterous charge. “Ask me your questions.”

Regret shadowed his features as he unfolded the missive. “Do ye consort with the devil?”

Leila scoffed at the ridiculousness of it. “Nay.”

“Do ye…” He shifted uncomfortably. “Do ye fornicate with demons?”

She couldn’t stay her mirth at that question. “Nay, of course not.”

“Do ye propel yerself through the air?”

“Are you asking if I can fly?” Leila shook her head. “What is this foolishness they’ve given you?

“Please answer the question,” Niall said softly.

Leila sighed. “I do not fly through the air.”

“Do ye see the future before it happens?” He kept his gaze fixed on the parchment when he asked that question. As though he did not wish to see her reaction.

The questions no longer seemed as humorous or silly. Her pulse ticked with wild abandon. She could say she did not and lie.

Yet, she could not agree to it and damn herself. Rather than speak, she let silence fill the space between them.

“Leila.” He said her name with a flinch to his brows. “Ye have to answer the question.”

“I…” She pressed her lips together.

“Mayhap the next question, then.” He ran his finger down the page. “While ye consider yer answer to the last one.”

She nodded, but her mouth went dry.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Have ye seen events that happened in the past in visions?”