One would suppose she had learned over the past weeks to avoid the fen like a sensible, rational person.
But no.
Just as on the day of her arrival, she could not stop studying thegowk stanestanding alone on its little solid island amid the marsh. Given that Alis could send her packing any day now, she felt some urgency to solve the mystery of the stone.
And after much contemplation, she had a hunch.
But confirming her hunch required standing beside the stone at sunrise. Which at this time of year, with the solstice looming, was more akin to staying up late than rising early. Being so far north meant that sunrise and sunset were scarcely two hours apart.
And so Chrissi had simply not gone to sleep.
Once the house was quiet, she had donned wellies, hiked up her skirts, and trudged into the muck. The sky was so twilight-bright, she didn’t need a lantern to light her way.
Of course, she had learned her lesson in the past. This time, she entered the bog with a plan. The workers assistingher on the excavations had charted a way to the stone—a path to follow that avoided the more treacherous holes.
The ground was, indeed, less swampy than it had been when she first arrived—the marsh grasses green and lush.
And she would have reached the stone without incident had her good foot not slipped and sent her toppling onto her hands and knees, covering her to the neck in cold, muddy sludge.
Fortunately, the ground under the mud was solid, enabling her to push herself upright. She stood, shaking mud from her hands. It was apropos, she supposed, to be covered in mud once more—ending her time at Kinord Castle as she had begun it.
This time lost and alone in the dim twilight.
Biting her lip, she blinked back tears.
Had she not shed enough over the past week?
But given the flood trickling down her cheeks, the answer was clearly no.
Why?she longed to scream at the sky.
Why did life have to be so difficult? Why did Alis have to betray her heart with both his wordsandhis silence? Why did their babe have to die?
Why, why, why?!
She was crying in earnest now, muddy fists to her eyes, terrible loud sobs wrenched from her chest. Those in the castle probably feared a wild animal prowled the night.
A sound to her right had her lifting her head.
Alis trudged through the muck toward her, a scowl on his handsome face.
Similar to herself, he was dressed in wellies, shirtsleeves, and a long overcoat that dragged behind him. Unlike her, he hadn’t taken a cold mud bath, though his red nose testified to the chill of the pre-dawn air.
She shivered to see him.
Surely he would cast her out now. His good grace could only extend so far.
“Chris,” he growled.
“A-Alis,” she hiccupped, chest spasming as she fought to stop her tears.
He stopped two feet in front of her, eyes flicking up and down the muddy, disastrous expanse of her.
“I dislike finding ye covered in mud, lass.”
“I d-dislikebeingcovered in m-mud.”
“Ye be mad to be out in the bog. And in the cold dark, no less. Have ye no concern for your wee neck?”
