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He is your fate.
That was what she had heard repeatedly while held prisoner at Strathearn. Did she start questioning the trust of the guidance she had received for so many years or did she do as she always did and pay heed to it? It had never failed her.
Let it be as it should.
Fia sighed and whispered, “But how should it be?”
She shook her head and decided to do as the voice warned. She would let it be… for now.
* * *
“The hellhounds’howls were heard again. Someone will die,” Argus whispered afraid to speak aloud. “You must send her to do what you brought her here to do.”
Varrick stood on the highest battlement of the keep staring out over his land and cast a glance at the sky.
“Sinead refuses to leave her shelter just like before when the howls were heard. She hunts no more in that area, the animals having all but gone from it where once it teemed with life.” Argus pointed not that far from the castle. “You can see for yourself how the area suffers. The pines heavily shed their needles. Pines never shed their needles that much in winter. You cannot wait. You must see this done.”
Varrick and Argus turned, hearing footfalls rushing toward them. It was Marsh, his face pale, and his steps frantic.
“He’s come for the bairn. Ella is in pain. The bairn comes too early. Don’t let him take our bairn, my lord,” Marsh pleaded.
* * *
Fear struckFia like a slap in the face as soon as she entered the Great Hall. Servants whispered among themselves. Warriors bent their heads mumbling to each other as they ate and cast short glances at her. Something was wrong.
“See to things while I am gone, Berta,” Merry ordered a servant as she slipped on her cloak. “I don’t know how long I will be.”
“Worry not about here. Think only of Ella and the bairn,” Berta said, her pretty face pinched with fear.
Fia hurried to approach them. “Can I help?”
Both women drew back as if she had swung at them.
“Your evil hands will not touch her,” Merry warned.
Marsh rushed toward Fia after entering the room and hearing Merry.
“You will not go near my wife,” Marsh shouted and hurried to stand between Merry and Fia.
Fia remained calm, knowing anger would not help the situation. “I may be able to help. I have delivered many bairns.”
“So, you tell us,” Marsh accused, “but will you say how many bairns died at your hands?”
“One, unfortunately,” Fia admitted. “He was stillborn. There was nothing I could do for him. Is this your wife’s first bairn?”
Marsh shut his eyes as if in pain.
Merry placed a comforting hand on Marsh’s shoulder. “Ella has lost three bairns.”
“All born alive?” Fia asked.
“No more questions,” Marsh snapped. “Ella needs all the women who have birthed bairns to help her.”
“Then begone and gather all the help you can,” Varrick ordered, having entered the room and having heard the exchange. “You will come with me, wife.”
Argus followed Marsh and Merry, offering what help he could.
Fia followed her husband to his solar. It was a sizeable room with various weapons hanging on the walls. Wood chests were piled three high against one wall and on another wall leather garments hung from pegs. Several tankards lined the rough-hewn mantle over the fireplace and a narrow table with benches sat before the hearth.
