When the last eyes were behind them, Fawn leaned closer, her voice a whisper against the cold air. “Rhodes… I fear there is a warlock among us.”
CHAPTER 24
Rhodes’s stride was purposeful, his grip firm around Fawn’s hand as they entered the keep. The murmur of villagers faded behind the heavy door, replaced by the crackle of torches in the hall. He did not release her.
“I should go to the animals,” she said quietly, glancing toward the stairs. “They’ll be unsettled after all the noise, after the ravens.”
“Not now,” Rhodes ordered. “If you run to them straightaway, it will look as though you care more for them than for what just happened in the village. The people are watching, Fawn. You cannot give them reason to think you hide something.”
Her first instinct was to argue, to rail at the unfairness of it. But she swallowed it down. He was right. As much as it pricked her pride, she saw the wisdom in his words.
“Very well,” she said at last, reluctant but yielding. “Later, then.”
He gave a brief nod and guided her to a table close to the hearth in the Great Hall. At their presence, the servants shifted uneasily, some bowing, others darting glances their way before returning to their tasks. Rhodes ordered food and drinkbe brought to them, and soon a platter of bread, cheese, and roasted meat was set before them with tankards of ale and hot cider.
Fawn had scarcely taken her seat when the great doors creaked open again. Boyce strode in, Sara at his side. The young woman’s hand clutched protectively at her rounded belly, her face pale.
“My lord,” Boyce said, with a bob of his head. “Forgive the interruption, but this cannot wait. We must speak of the witch. The people are frightened. Some say she must be sought out, found, driven away… or worse.”
Sara shivered and pressed her hand harder to her stomach.
Boyce rested his hand briefly at her back as if to steady her. “I’ll not leave Sara alone with talk of witches. All know witches steal the unborn, draw their breath from their mother’s stomach, and leave them to be born lifeless.”
Fawn’s eyes widened, shock snapping through her, leaving her unable to hold her tongue. “That is nonsense and nothing more than old wives’ tales meant to frighten. No witch can do such a thing.”
Boyce stiffened, his jaw working, but it was Sara who whispered, “Yet bairns are born lifeless.”
Fawn’s heart softened. She saw the fear in the young woman’s eyes, felt the tremor in her voice. Leaning forward, she let her tone turn gentle. “Aye, bairns are sometimes lost, and it is a sorrow beyond words. But when something cannot be explained, blame is too often laid on another and from that, tales grow, twisted until they no longer hold truth. Do not let such tales frighten you, Sara. You are safe. Your child is safe.”
Sara’s hand patted her belly, as if reassuring the bairn resting within. Her eyes shimmered, fear still clinging but easing at the edges. A small breath left her, almost a sigh of relief, and she gave Fawn a faint, grateful smile.
Boyce’s arm tightened around Sara as if he could shield her with his strength alone. “You truly think it could be Elune or Cander, my lord? You set guards at their doors, but men murmur that no ordinary guard can stop a witch. They fear for their own lives.”
Rhodes leaned forward, his hand braced flat on the table, his voice low but edged. “I said I would not rule anyone out. They are new to the clan, and until I know more of them, they will remain watched. That is caution, not condemnation.”
Sara shook her head, speaking softly but firmly. “Elune is no witch, my lord. She is harmless. A woman alone, weary, grateful for a roof and warm food. She’s not the cause of this.”
But Boyce pressed on, his tone hard. “Kindness can be a mask, a way to weave trust. I tell you, my lord, the men guarding her and Cander are no match if either of them wields dark craft. Fear gnaws at them and they whisper of forsaking the duty.”
The crack of Rhodes’s fist striking the table silenced the hall. The fire snapped in the hearth, and for a heartbeat no one breathed. His eyes swept to Boyce, unflinching.
“Then those men should worry less about witches,” Rhodes snarled, “and more about what I’ll do to them if they dare forsake their duty.”
Silence fell heavy, the only sound the wind tapping at the shutters.
The silence stretched until Sara, her voice trembling yet laced with courage, broke it. “My lord… what of the raven in the turret room? Where did it come from?”
Boyce shot her a sharp look, worry sparking in his eyes as though he feared Rhodes’s temper might flare again.
But before Rhodes could speak, Fawn lifted her chin and answered, her voice soothing. “He came to me wounded. His wing was torn, and I could not let him die when I might mend it. That is all. When the other ravens cried out, he must haveanswered, as any creature will when called by its own. They were likely waiting for him—waiting for their mate.”
Sara’s fingers clutched the edge of her cloak, her gaze darting between Fawn and Rhodes. The explanation hung in the air, simple and human against the tangled whispers of witchcraft.
Rhodes’s voice cut through the silence. “That is all for now. We will speak no more of it here.”
Boyce opened his mouth as if to argue, but the sharp look from his laird silenced him.
Rhodes rose slightly, his tone carrying the weight of command. “Take your wife, Boyce. See her settled. We will talk later, just you and I.”
