AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Hold your tongue!
The warning had Fia locking her lips tightly. She had to mind her tongue. It would do no good to spew her anger at him. Besides, anger always blocked her knowing and if she needed anything right now it was forewarning of things to come.
Fia was glad for the continued silence as they traveled. The forest could be intimidating in the winter, the bareness of the trees appearing more like giant sentinels warning people away, but not her. She loved its stark beauty and stillness and used it to calm herself, to draw from the peacefulness of the woods and fill herself with it. She would need it to deal with her husband.
Argus returned with the other warriors and rode to take the lead once again. Varrick left her side to join him and once again two warriors flanked both her sides. She did not care. She kept her mind steady on the forest, reaching out to the peace it offered her and she was grateful to feel her calm return.
Snow began to fall, lightly, but by midday it turned heavy and if it continued there would be sufficient snowfall by evening.
Fia kept her hood up over her head and her hands tucked beneath her cloak and her eyes in front of her since the swirling snow made it difficult to see. She also spoke to the horse, letting him know that there was no worry that all would be well.
An image suddenly flashed in her mind—a monastery and the face of the cleric who had wed them. She realized what was shown to her, so it was not a surprise when Varrick returned to her side with news.
“There is a monastery not far from here. We will stop, hopefully, just for the night and continue our journey tomorrow if the snow allows.”
“I will not be welcomed there,” Fia said.
“They know of you?”
“Where do you think the cleric that wed us came from?”
“He still heals at Clan Strathearn,” Varrick reminded.
“He would waste no time in sending word of what happened.”
“It matters not. The monks will not deny me or my wife,” Varrick said with certainty.
Fia held no such certainty, and a ripple of fear ran through her.
The snow worsened, the snowflakes falling in abundance and the cold nipping sharply. She sensed the relief of those around her when the monastery was spotted, and she was relieved as well. A stone wall circled the place, and they rode directly to the entrance, a large wood door, Argus was already there pounding on it.
It took a few moments before the door creaked open partially.
“Lord Varrick and his warriors seek shelter for the night,” Argus’s booming voice announced, and it was followed by an exchange too low to be heard. The door closed, and Argus walked over to Varrick.
“We are welcome. The witch is not,” Argus said. “Word has reached them from Clan Strathearn concerning their cleric.”
Varrick dismounted and Fia watched as determination rather than anger seized his face and how he approached the door with powerful strides, his shoulders broad, and how the swirling snow itself seemed to avoid him. He was a man who would not be denied.
Varrick pounded on the door repeatedly as soon as he reached it. Argus remained behind him, two of his warriors waited on either side of him.
The door creaked open once again.
“You will let us all in or I will seize this place for my own,” Varrick warned.
“We are under Lord David of Clan MacSymon, protection,” the monk said. “And you and your warriors are more than welcome here—the witch is not.”
“I do not care if you are under the king’s protection, my wife enters with me, or you suffer the consequences,” Varrick threatened.
The monk went to push the door closed and Varrick gave it a vicious shove, sending the monk tumbling back to land in a heap on the floor. Varrick entered, stepping over him.
Argus followed him in along with the two warriors.
“Secure this place while I get my wife and see that the horses are sheltered,” Varrick ordered.
“What goes on here?” came a commanding shout.
Varrick turned to see a slim man of fair height hurry toward him.
