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Maira and Willow kept walking to their horses.
“Fia, ye’ve got to believe me,” said Morag. “I am no’ makin’ this up.”
“There is no one but us here,” Fia answered with a sad shake of her head. “I want to believe ye, ye ken I do. But I think our cousins are right. The wind is pickin’ up and we should be gettin’ back to the castle.”
“Nay! I’m no’ goin’ until I find Mazelina or the brooch. I am goin’ to prove to ye all that I am no’ a liar.”
The girls mounted their horses and headed to the gate.
“Come on, Morag and Fia. It’s getting really windy,” Branton called out.
“Go without me. I’m stayin’ here to think,” answered Morag stubbornly.
“Morag, come with us,” pleaded Fia. “Da is no’ goin’ to like it if we leave ye here alone.”
“Then dinna tell him.” Morag folded her arms over her chest. “I am no’ goin’ anywhere and none of ye can make me.”
Fia walked over and spoke with the girls and Branton. After a minute, Branton looked over to Morag. “I’ll stay with you, Morag.”
“I dinna want ye here, Branton.” Morag felt tears welling up in her eyes and blinked them away. “I want to be alone.”
“Come on, Morag,” said Fia. “Dinna act this way.”
“Fia, I am no’ goin’ until I find out what happened to the brooch as well as Mazelina.”
Branton talked to the girls once more and then shouted out to Morag. “I’m going to escort the girls back to the castle and I will be back for you right afterwards, Morag. Will you be all right until then?”
“Of course, I will,” she said, no longer even caring. “I am safe in the secret garden. This is where I belong. Besides, I’m sure Mazelina will be returnin’ at any minute.”
She didn’t miss the roll of Willow’s eyes or the scowl of disbelief on Maira’s face. Even her own sister didn’t seem as if she believed her.
They left the garden and Morag dug through the dirt once more, not finding the brooch anywhere. Could Mazelina have taken it? But why would she? And was Mazelina real or only a figment of her imagination? She was beginning to wonder if she were going mad. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she had never seen Mazelina eat or even sit down. She wouldn’t allow Morag to hug her either. Neither had Morag ever seen the bed covers rumpled or a dish with food left anywhere.
“I am goin’ mad,” said Morag, wiping a tear from her eye. “I imagined the whole thing, and I am nothin’ but a liar.”
She stood up, looking down to Imanie’s grave, tears dripping down her cheeks. “Oh, Imanie, why are ye no’ here for me when I need ye, like ye were for the others? My cousins and even my own sister dinna believe me about Mazelina. And I promised Bedivere I wouldna say anythin’ about my uncles and faither’s lives bein’ in danger, or else they might have believed me. And now, my da doesna want me to marry Bedivere because he thinks the man is just an assassin. But I love him, Imanie. I want to help Bedivere because he has had to kill men he didna even ken in order to protect his family. I would do anythin’ to help him, even die if I had to.”
“Well, then it’s your lucky day,” came a voice from behind her.
Morag spun around on her heel to find Whitmore right behind her holding the hilt of his sword above her head.
“Nay!” she cried, holding up her hands to hide her face as the man’s sword came right toward her.
