A deeper, more powerful command suddenly cut through the square. “SILENCE!”
The word fell like a sharp blow.
The villagers froze, turning as Rhodes strode forward, the cold wind sweeping his dark cloak out like raven wings. His presence seemed to grow with each step, until he stood before Cander, towering over the stooped figure, his expression carved of iron.
“You will not sow fear in my clan,” he ordered, each word deliberate, his voice carrying to the farthest edge of the village. “No doom, no shadow, no madness. If ravens circle, they will answer to me. If danger comes, I will meet it steel in hand. But I will not have my people torn apart by the ravings of one old man.”
Cander faltered, stumbling a step back, but his wild eyes still glinted.
Rhodes turned, his gaze sweeping the villagers. “Hear me well. Fear feeds on whispers. You will not feed it. Trust in your laird, and trust that Clan MacBrair will not bow to shadow or evil forces.”
The murmurs stilled. Men straightened, women drew breath, children quieted. The tide of panic, so quick to rise, ebbed beneath his command.
Fawn clutched Sprig close, but unease prickled her skin, an unease she hadn’t felt in a long time and one she had never wanted to feel again. It lingered in the square. Darker. Stronger. She drew in a sharp breath as the realization struck her. What she felt was not from the people… but the presence of another witch. Not any witch since the power was so strong, she sensed the presence of… a warlock?
Rhodes reached for Fawn’s hand, his grip firm but steady, and drew her toward him. “Enough of this,” he muttered, low enough for only her to hear. “Come away from the crowd.”
She went willingly, eager for the chance to warn him of what she had sensed, darkness, heavy and pressing, clinging to the air like heavy smoke. She had barely drawn breath to speak when a sudden rush of gasps erupted and a shout.
“A raven burst from the turret window!”
Black wings cut through the gray sky near the turret and Fawn froze, her heart slamming against her ribs… Rook.
The bird wheeled once above, releasing a sharp, piercing squawk. From the trees, the waiting ravens answered in a chorus, lifting as one into the air to follow. Together, the dark cloud of wings wheeled and vanished into the distance.
Fawn’s mouth went dry, shock rooting her in place. Rook’s wing had not yet healed. He could not have flown. Unless… unless some other power had seized him. Her pulse stuttered. Had she harbored evil all along, brought it into the very keep with her?
Cander’s cracked voice shrilled across the villagers, feeding the moment like oil to flame. “There! You saw it! The bird flew from the turret itself! Whoever dwells there is the witch!”
The villagers stirred, fear darkening their faces as their gazes turned. One by one… eyes settled on Fawn.
Fawn clutched Sprig tighter against her, the kitten pressing low in her pouch, hissing softly as though sensing the sharp biteof suspicion around them. Her breath came uneven, her mind racing. Would they believe Cander’s raving? Would they see her not as their laird’s wife but as a witch who had brought ruin to their doors?
Beside her, Rhodes’s grip on her hand tightened, as steady and determined as when he held a sword. Then, with deliberate calm, he stepped in front of her, broad shoulders squaring to shield her from the eyes of the crowd.
“My wife is no witch,” he said, his voice as cold as ice. The square went still, his words carrying to every ear. “Let no one here dare say otherwise or they will answer to me.”
A murmur rippled, unease twisting through the villagers until another voice rose to challenge it.
Elune.
She stepped forward, her gnarled hands steady despite the tension in the air. “There was no trouble here until Cander arrived,” she said firmly, her gaze fixed on the old man. “The ravens followed him. Not Fawn.”
All eyes turned again, this time toward the stooped figure at the edge of the gathering.
Cander’s cracked laugh carried through the cold. “And what of the sheep, hmm? The attack came after Elune arrived. Who’s to say it wasn’t her? Maybe it is she who calls the birds, she who whispers to beasts. Maybe she is the witch you seek.”
A collective gasp rose, the fear swelling like a wave ready to break.
Rhodes stepped forward, his presence a wall between Cander and the crowd, his voice thunderous. “Enough! I will hear no more talk of witches. Not one word.” His fierce gaze swept the villagers. “You will not tear this clan apart with suspicion.”
Silence fell, heavy but relieved. Shoulders eased, heads bobbed. The people wanted his certainty more than they wanted Cander’s fear.
Rhodes’s command rang out again, as confident as the blade he wielded in battle. “Cander, Elune, you both will return to your cottages since neither of you are familiar to us. Boyce, place a guard at both their doors. None enter, and none leave until this is settled.”
The villagers nodded, grateful for the order, relief breaking across their faces now that their laird had drawn a line.
Rhodes did not release Fawn’s hand as he turned and walked her through the parting crowd. Their footfalls rang against the frosted earth, the silence thick around them.
