by Mac Flynn
A smile brightened his face, and he leaned down and pecked a light kiss on my lips. "Grave words, but I fear she will not risk confronting a goddess."
I blinked at him. "Then she knows?"
"She would if she approached you. Her kind are adept at sensing the powers of the old gods," he explained.
"Then how must I proceed. How can I help?" I asked him.
"By keeping your senses open and your eyes keen. That is, until she is caught, and she will be caught," he assured me.
I smiled and bowed my head. "I will do as you wish, my laird."
He cupped my chin in his hand and lifted my eyes to his. "As I advise, my goddess," he teased me.
"As you advise, then, Tristan," I corrected myself.
He stepped back and offered me his arm. "Now if you would, my goddess, breakfast awaits and it promises to be more pleasing than yester morning."
I laughed and took his arm. "I will gladly accompany you to such a feast."
Tristan guided me out into the passage and down the stairs to the dining hall. Our guests, minus the stoic Father Clarke, were seated in their customary chairs. Before them was the usual fare of meat, cooked vegetables, and a good bounty of bread. The brothers MacNaughton each had their plates filled to the brim with the good food.
All but the aged MacLaren stood at our entrance, and Tristan waved them back into their seats.
"I would not dream of interrupting such a bountiful feast," he laughed as we each took our seats.
Seumas leaned forward and glanced across his patron and at me. "You look particularly lovely this morn, my lady, even more so than last night," he complimented me. "Have you changed your hair to better suit your beautiful face?"
"Perhaps you have overlooked her radiance before," Tristan spoke up.
Seumas smiled and bowed his head to Tristan. "Perhaps I have."
Mary emerged from the kitchen carrying two bowls of warm broth. She set one bowl before my laird, and another in front of me. I turned to smile at her, but something about her wide grin caught my attention. Her eyes were bright and unblinking as she bowed her head and stepped away from the table.
I furrowed my brow and turned to look at my bowl. The broth was chicken with bits of vegetables that floated at the surface. I took up a spoonful of the soup and sniffed the liquid. There was a strange, bitter smell to the food that suggested a new ingredient. I took a tiny sip and wrinkled my nose. The soup had a pungent flavor that displeased my mouth. I set my spoon down and reached for an apple that sat in a platter in the center of the table.
"The broth not to your liking?" Lady MacLaren asked me.
I shook my head, and the movement caused my vision to blur. My hand missed the apple and I fell forward. I spilled the contents of my cup and knocked against the bowl so it rattled out of my path.
"Muira!" Tristan cried out.
The audience at the table rose, and Tristan and Lady MacLaren rushed to me. Tristan pulled me off the table and tried to sit me straight, but by that time my body had a terrible pain that made me shudder. I quaked in his arms as he set me on the floor and into his arms. Lady MacLaren knelt on my other side and pressed the back of her hand against my forehead. Her hand felt like a cool cloth against my hot, quivering skin, and I heard her gasp.
"She is with fever," Lady MacLaren told my laird.
Duncan stepped over to my bowl and picked up my spoon. He scooped up a small bit and tasted the end with his tongue. His face twisted into a snarl and he tossed the spoon away.
"Wolf's bane," he informed the company.
Tristan's eyes snapped up to Mary who stood two yards away with her grin still on her face. He set me in Lady MacLaren's strong arms and stood to face the servant.
"What do you know of this?" he questioned her.
She chuckled, and the sound made even my feverish mind shudder. There was a deep, wicked malice that promised ruin to the suffer. "Everything," she answered him. "It twas I who placed the wolf's bane there, and with any luck she will succumb to the same fate as your mother!"
Tristan let out a cry of fury that echoed through the long hall. He lunged at her, but she was took quick. What appeared to be a single step for her was several yards backwards so that she stood near the fireplace. Her false face and clothes dropped off her body like a waterfall, and she revealed herself as Bean Lyel.
The servants from the kitchen rushed into the room, and I noticed the real Mary among them. Bean Lyel leaned back her head and cackled. The light from the fire danced off his wizened features and cast her twisted, laughing face into dark shadows.
"You seek revenge for this trollop's death, but your efforts will be fruitless!" she warned him. "Before I am finished with you and your murderous ways you will lose everything. Your love, your will, and even your ancestry!"
Bean Lyel turned and jumped into the fire. Her body was not consumed by the flames, but rather swallowed in a thick blast of heat. Her laughter continued to echo around the room for a few moments more before a deathly silence fell over the room.
A spasm of pain shot through my body, and I cried out. Lady MacLaren squeezed one of my hands and Tristan jumped back to kneel by my side.
"Muira?" he choked out.
"Everything will be fine," Lady MacLaren promised him. She looked down at me and smiled. "Listen to my voice and relax."
I wanted to keep my eyes open to reassure Tristan, but the effort proved to be too great. My mind slipped away, and the room faded to black.
CHAPTER 38
I struggled through a sleepless darkness that oppressed me. My eyes would not open and my limbs would not move. There was a great weight on my chest that I could not throw off nor slit out from beneath. I thrashed and struggled, and hands held me and voices yelled at me. There was a high voice among the others, one that was familiar and yet not. The voice broke through the dark veil that surrounded my mind and penetrated the hazy, feverish thoughts that encompassed me.
"Calm, my little goddess. The pain will pass and all will be well," the voice whispered to me.
Her words were a medicine that lifted the weight off my chest. I took deep breaths and slipped into a dreamless sleep.
The next waking moment I knew was in the early morning hours. My eyes fluttered open and I gazed around at my bed chambers. The weak light from the young sun streamed through the windows and cast a soft warmth over the room. I caught a shape to my right, and I turned my head. My blurry vision imagined that the Lady Campbell, Tristan's mother, sat nearby with her smiling face looking kindly at me.
The image, however, was a mirage, and in a moment the smiling face vanished. I started when I recognized the shriveled form of the moor witch.
She chuckled at my response. "And a good morning to you, as well," she teased.
I opened my mouth, but my dry lips didn't allow words to pass. The old witch took a glass of water from the nightstand close beside her and stood. She shuffled over to me and raised me to a sitting position so she could tilt my head back and give me a drink of water. I greedily gulped down the precious water, but she removed the glass before I was satiated. I whimpered, but she shook her head and set me back down on the pillows.
"That's enough for you at this time," she scolded me as she resumed her seat in the chair close by. I noticed there was an empty chair beside her own.
"Did. . .you. . .save me?" I croaked.
The witch chuckled. "It was partly my doing, but some credit is due to the necklace around your neck. There's a very powerful magic there granted to you." She leaned forward and smiled at me with her toothy grin. "And I have noticed you have changed much, as well" she commented. I blushed under her knowing gaze, and she cackled and pulled away from me. "I see I've hit on something, but no matter. What is important is your health, and I will see to it that it stays well. I, and the Lady MacLaren."
"Lady MacLaren?" I repeated.
The witch nodded. "Aye. She assisted me much in reviving you from near-death. The gods wished to have your
soul among them, but I knew a trick or two against the poison that that vile fiend gave to you and you were saved."
My eyes widened and I tried to sit up. "Tristan! The others! Were they-" She stood and pressed me back onto the bed.
"None within these walls suffers as greatly as yourself," she assured me.
I sighed and a smile slipped onto my lips. "I am glad to hear that."
The witch sat on her chair and studied my face. "You are a rare creature. One so full of innocence that concern for yourself is second to the concern of others."
"I can only be who I am," I countered.
The old woman closed her eyes and chuckled. "Sage advice for one so young, and yet I see that you hold something very ancient within you." My eyes widened and my heart quickened. I feared my secret and the secrets that Tristan held were at the whims of the witch. She opened her eyes and held up a hand towards me. "You needn't have any fear from me, little one. I am an outcast, and the norms of the village and castle are not my own."
"Then you will not tell anyone?" I asked her.
She bowed her head. "Not a soul."
I relaxed and smiled. "You are a rare creature yourself to protect such a secret."
The old witch chuckled. "Aye, but secrets are a great specialty of mine."
I tilted my head to one side and studied the wizened woman before me. "May I. . .may I know your name?" I requested.
She raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask? Do you seek power over me?" she wondered.
I weakly shook my head. "I did not-" She chuckled and shook her head
"A mere tease, little one. If you must know, I go by the name of Ciardha," she answered.
Our attentions turned to the door where there came a knock. The entrance opened and Lady MacLaren entered with bowl of warm soup on tray. She walked over to the bed and smiled at both of us.
"I thought you were not long in awakening, and brought some soup to ease your tired body," she told me. She set the tray on the nightstand beside Ciardha and knelt beside the bed. Her kind eyes looked me over and one of her hands clasped mine. "You had us very worried, but I have assured everyone the danger is past."
"How long was I asleep?" I asked them.
"Two days, and they were very long for your loved ones," Lady MacLaren told me. "Your mother and husband-to-be were especially worried."
My eyes widened and I tried to raise myself, but Lady MacLaren pressed me against the bed. "Mother? Is she here?"
Lady MacLaren smiled and nodded. "She is, and she is very anxious to see you. Would you like to see her?"
"Yes, if I may," I pleaded.
"Then I will call her in," Lady MacLaren promised.
Lady MacLaren strode from my bedside, and I watched her without blinking as she reached the door and opened the entrance. She stepped out and whispered a few words, and in a moment the door flew open. My mother with one edge of her dress in hand hurried inside and over to my bed. Lagging behind her came Tristan with Lady MacLaren by his side.
My mother and I clasped hands, and warm tears streamed down her face as she smiled down at me. I hadn't seen her in such distress since my father died. She took a seat beside me and brushed some of my wet hairs from my face.
"H-how are you feeling?" she choked out.
"Much better," I assured her.
Tristan came up beside her and gestured to the empty chair beside Ciardha. "You may sit and stay with her a while, if her caretakers grant you the time."
"I would advise it," Lady MacLaren spoke up. Her soft eyes flitted between my mother and me. "Love and time are the best healers."
"And a great deal of blessing," Ciardha added.
Mother squeezed my hands in hers and nodded. "And we are truly blessed," she agreed.
"Then let us give mother and daughter some time together," Tristan requested.
Ciardha rose and shuffled to the door while Tristan and Lady MacLaren followed. The door shut behind them and my mother leaned over and pressed her forehead against mine.
"Oh my little daughter, why has God sent such terrible enemies against you?" she whispered.
I reached up and pressed a quivering hand against her cheek. "I am fine, Mother. Our laird and my friends protects me."
She pulled away and pressed her lips together. "But what a terrible war you have come into, and to be poisoned by such a fiend! And one who was in a servant of our departed laird!"
I furrowed my brow. "How much has our laird told you?" I asked her.
"He has announced to all that one loyal to his father tried to kill you, and that she is found to be a witch named Sheehy," she informed me. "You were saved only by the kindness of Lady MacLaren and the witch of the moors."
"A witch. . ." I repeated. I sank down into my pillows and pursed my lips. "Then she had tried to kill me before."
My mother caught my eyes and searched my face. "Muira, I know you are of strong will like your father, but I fear for you against sorcery."
I smiled and squeezed her hands. "Her attempts have failed many times because of my friends and our laird. Now that she has shown her true self no one will give her sanctuary, and I hope she will do no one any further harm."
My mother sighed, but a smile slipped onto her lips. "You have such faith in you, Muira. I have sometimes wondered if you were perhaps destined for another, more beautiful world than the one we inhabit."
"I would rather remain here and make this one better," I countered.
There came a soft rap on the door. I looked to my mother, and she gave a nod.
"Come in," I called.
The entrance opened and Tristan stepped inside. My mother stood, and he bowed to us.
"Bean Keith, I hate to intrude but the nurses wish for her to rest soon and I would like just a moment alone with Muira," he pleaded.
My mother bowed her head. "As you wish, my laird."
She hurried from the bed and he to it, but he grasped her hands when she tried to pass him.
"I would not have this be a command, but a mere request," he insisted. A playful smile danced across his lips as he studied her face. "You are, after all, soon to be my only mother, and I would not have us in such an awkward relationship."
"You do us a great honor, my laird," Mother replied.
"Then do me the honor of raising your head, Lady Keith," he insisted.
My mother's head snapped up and her eyes widened. "My laird, I am no-"
"You are a lady now, one who is so dearest to my love," he told her. "And I will ensure you and yours that none will know want."
My mother smiled and bowed her head. "Thank you, my laird, but my needs are very little. Only-"
"Your home and your children?" he guessed.
She gave a nod. "Aye, my laird."
"Then I will grant you as much food as you ever desire, and I will care for your son in any way you wish," he promised.
My mother's smile faltered and she looked past him at me. "And my daughter? Is she still in danger?"
Tristan shook his head. "No longer, and the witch who deceived us will not do so again. The witch of the moor will ensure that, and my soldiers will ensure other dangers."
My mother smiled and clasped his hands in hers. "Then I will rest easy and be glad for the title you give me that will allow my children a good life."
Tristan studied her face and chuckled. "I need not ask where my bride finds her innocence and lack of selfishness."
"You do my honor, my laird, and now I will leave you two alone," Mother promised.
She pulled herself away, gave me one last smile, and left so my husband-to-be could speak with me alone.
CHAPTER 39
Tristan walked over and took a seat in the chair recently occupied by Ciardha. He leaned forward and set his chin on his entwined hands. His elbows lay on his spread legs, and he furrowed his brow. He sat there for many moments neither moving nor speaking, but merely studying me.
"I am sorry for the trouble I have caused," I apologized
; He started, and smiled and shook his head. "You could never cause me trouble, my goddess, but trouble does brew. The words of the witch Sheehy, the former Bean Lyel, has brought forth many questions that I sought to bury with my father."
"Your mother's murder," I guessed.
He nodded. "That, and my father's dealings in witchcraft. The topic has unsettled many in my household and the village."
I reached over and clasped one of his hands in mine. "I am sorry."
Tristan patted my hand and shook his head. "It is none of your doing, my goddess, but I fear you bear the worst of the consequences."
"I feel fine," I replied. He raised an eyebrow. "I feel better," I amended.
He chuckled. "That is good to hear as Lady MacLaren must depart soon. The laird is eager to return home before the first snow."
My face fell and I sighed. "I see. . ." I murmured.
"She has promised to return when the first flowers bloom," he added. "And your mother is to be a guest in our home until she is assured you are quite well."
I straightened and smiled. "I am glad. What of Ciardha. Will she remain here?" I asked him.
Tristan furrowed his brow and shook his head. "No. She has already returned to her home."
I tilted my head to one side and blinked at him. "Is something the matter?"
My laird shook himself and smiled. "She is a very strange creature. I knew only of her powers, but not of her oddities."
"Oddities?" I wondered.
"She has a persistent habit in watching my every movement," he told me. "It would be alarming coming from an enemy such as my cousin or Laird MacNaughton, but from her it only perplexes me."
I furrowed my brow. "Then they are truly our enemies?"
He chuckled, and there was no mirth in the sound. "Even your innocence could not blot out their dark hearts. Aye, they are enemies are surely as the sun will rise tomorrow. They both seek power, and my cousin seeks my castle and all my wealth."
"Can you not banish them both?" I suggested.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Without due cause I would merely be starting a rebellion from those lesser lairds under my authority. No, I would need proof of betrayal, or worse, the attempt on your life."
