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“That cannae be—”
“He loves ye, Jonet! He’s loved ye for years. He’s never once looked at me because all he can see is ye and I hate ye for it!” Freya’s voice cracked. From the distance, Jonet could see her eyes filling with tears, though her face was still twisted in her anger. “Do ye ken what it feels like to watch the man ye love run after someone else? And that woman do
esnae even have the decency to look at him? Ye’ve been so caught up in yer own pitiful life that ye cannae see what’s around ye. Ye think the world is yers, that everyone should march to yer beat. It’s nae happenin’ anymore.”
“I daenae think that,” Jonet gasped. “I dinnae—how could I have kent?”
“I daenae want to hear it.” Freya cocked the arrow higher. Jonet swallowed, her limsb seizing with fear. “I willnae let ye live a second longer when ye’ve stolen the only thing I’ve ever loved.”
“Wait!” Jonet cried out. “Ye mean it’s all been a lie, Freya? Yer friendship? Ye never cared about me at all?”
“How could I when I could only see one person? And that one person has never once looked at me.”
Jonet needed only a sliver of pity. She knew that was all she would get, and she prayed that would be enough. A sliver of remorse so that Freya could choose not to kill her. If it did not work, she was all out of options.
She could taste the tangy fear in the back of her throat as she tried to give Freya a tender look.
“Daenae ye remember when ye took me to this same loch to cheer me up after Henry died? And when I refused to get in, ye pushed me in, clothes and all?”
Freya narrowed her eyes. “This willnae work, Jonet.”
“And when I broke surface, I made it seem as if I was nae mad then lured ye to the bank so that I could pull ye in.”
“If ye think that this story will make me want to kill ye any less then ye’re sorely mistaken.”
Yet she kept going, her voice tinged with desperation. “Ye were so mad at me at first, but then we had so much fun. That was the only time I’ve ever seen ye relax and actually laugh. That’s when I realized that I’d found me best friend.”
“I never thought of ye as me best friend, Jonet,” Freya snarled. Jonet’s story had not even nicked her defences. Jonet sagged hopelessly. “Ye were only one thing to me. The only person standin’ in me way of what I wanted.”
“Then why dinnae ye kill me earlier?” Jonet demanded in a surge of defiance. “Why would ye wait until now, when I’m so happy?”
“Because I thought that if I’d stayed patient, he would be mine. After all, I’ve already done so much for him that it would only make sense.”
“Done so much for him? What did ye—”
“Enough! I’ve wasted enough time. It’s time for ye to die.”
Jonet held her breath and racked her brain for something to say, or to do. She looked around her, but the tiny pebbles scattered through the grass would not do anything for her. She was utterly defenceless and out of options.
She could not simply accept her death. She could not believe that it would truly end like this when she was just within reach of true happiness. To die so shamefully, her body wasting away at the bottom of a loch… Jonet’s heart clenched at the very thought. Her eyes were now dry of tears, and she could not look away from Freya’s malicions grin.
I’m sorry, Faither, Maither. I’m sorry, Matthew.
Jonet closed her eyes. The acceptance would not come and so she tensed, waiting to hear the thwang of the arrow before it pierced her heart. It never came.
Instead, she heard Freya cry out and when she opened her eyes, she saw that the bow and arrow was lying off to the side, next to a large stone that had not been there before.
Then Jonet heard it. The sound of a horse approaching. It was so familiar, bringing her back to the time she had raced Matthw. She would never forget it, Temper’s hooves pounding murderously into the earth. Jonet hardly had any time to process his appearance. Nor the man that was sitting atop him, his face dark with anger.
Neither did Freya. She tried to run, but she was too slow. Temper seemed to be driven by the force of his rider and Freya had no chance of escape before Matthew reached out and swung the large blunt stick he carried into her, throwing her onto her back.
He might have to kill her. He fully planned to. The moment Matthew swung off Temper, hardly waiting for the horse to slow down fully before he dismounted, he charged after Freya, holding the stick high above his head. He saw nothing but red rage, pushing him to take care of the threat. The woman who had not only tried to kill the love of his life yet had spent years making her miserable.
“Matthew, nay!”
Jonet threw herself at him, using both hands to pull his arm down. He was right above Freya, watching as she tried to squirm away. She had landed badly on her leg, it seemed, and was clutching her arm to her body as she tried her best to scramble out of range. Had it not been for Jonet, he would have brought the stick right down on her head.
“Matthew, stop!” Jonet forced her way in front of him, pushing on his chest. Her scent filled him, cleared the fury a bit. “Daenae hurt her.”
