That did leave the question of how she’d get down, but she climbed as she thought. It could be that the shadow-things would get tired and leave, or that, like wolves, they’d find other, easier prey.
Then again, perhaps Cathal would be in flight nearby and would see her. Sophia would have put him up against a pack of shadow-things any day. He would have to find her first, of course, and she didn’t get the feeling that she was anywhere near Loch Arach.
So how did yougethere?
As she asked herself the question, she broke through the top of the forest.
Treetops stretched away around her. A few reached above her head, but even those, so high, were easy to look around. The view wasn’t reassuring. All the leaves were dark, and the sky itself was a muddy reddish-gray shade that Sophia couldperhapsput down to clouds over a sunset, but that struck the deeper part of herself as more significant and less natural. If there was life in the forest, even as little as a squirrel in a tree or a spider on a branch, it hid itself well. As far as she could make out, the only beings nearby were her and the shadow-men.
More like shadows than men. Cathal had said that. He’d been speaking of the creatures he’d fought, the less-human minions of Valerius. They’d sounded different, the way he’d described them, but still…men who looked a bit like shadows, shadows that took the vague shape of men. Was a connection so unlikely?
The forest was on a hilltop, it seemed, so Sophia could look down over the dark sea of treetops and into the valley below. A castle squatted there, comparatively low and wide, vainly clutching at the sky with stumpy towers. She could see that the forest ended a little way from it, revealing bare earth and a dark river. Human habitation: it should have been an immense relief, but nothing in her wanted to take a step in that direction, even if it were a practical option.
She shifted her weight, wrapping one arm around the tree trunk and freeing her other, and looked down. The shadows around the tree were thick. There was no way of knowing whether they were natural or animate. If she’d had flint and steel, Sophia thought, she could have lit one of the smaller branches and thrown it down, perhaps even injured one of the things in the process.
A small shape settled itself into the palm of her free hand for a second, long enough for her to recognize it as a tinderbox, and then, as she looked down in surprise, it shimmered and vanished.
“What—”
“Sophia.” Disembodied, a voice filled the air around her: Alice, sharp and no-nonsense, with an edge of alarm. Sophia looked around for her, seeing nothing. “Sophia. Wake up.Now.”
And a short, hard shake of her shoulders knocked her out of the tree and the forest alike, back into the world of her now-familiar bedroom at Castle MacAlasdair, back to candlelight and Alice’s narrow eyes.
“I…” Now relief came, and oh, it was blessed. This was her room, her bed, with stone walls around her and no shadow shapes chasing her beneath a rotting sky. “Thank you. How did you know?”
She put out a hand to grasp Alice’s shoulder, thinking both to thank her and to confirm her solidity. Pain jabbed into her palm at the first contact—not much, not really, but enough to draw a yelp from her and to startle her into dropping her hand. Then she stared at Alice’s shoulder and at the bloodstain on her chemise.
“That,” Alice said grimly, “is how I knew.”
Sophia turned her hand up. Three scratches ran across the palm. Now she felt the others, the ones on her shoulders and neck, and a cold pain in her leg. “The trees… In my dream there were trees…”
“Dream trees must be fearsome. Look at your ankle.”
Alice stepped back, far enough to pull up the hem of Sophia’s chemise. At her ankle, just above the bone, a ring of purple-red skin encircled her leg.
Fifteen
“This…” Cathal began, and then couldn’t say anything else.
Sophia’s hand, palm upturned, rested in his. In his grasp, her hand was tiny, the small bones delicate as glass ornaments, and Cathal kept his hand perfectly still. He knew his strength too well. More than that, he knew the rage that was building within him, tightening the muscles of his shoulders and neck. Perfect control was more important when imperfect control could mean disaster. Artair had told him that many times.
Let himself go, even slightly, and the rest would give way like an avalanche. The time would come, shortly, when he would be dangerous to be around. He had no wish to hasten the moment, or to threaten Sophia further. Bad enough that he couldn’t keep her safe.
None of the welts on her palm were truly bad. He’d had worse just about every day he’d been a squire, between training and chores. Any kitchen boy would pick up greater wounds peeling turnips. Yet the scratches blazed bright across her dark palm, dried blood an accusation like letters of fire.
She left her hand in his and made no attempt to move it. Her skin was warm and smooth against his palm, though on her fingers themselves he could see calluses, and ink stains, and a few small red marks that looked like burns.
“Let me see your ankle,” he said, curt and low in his chest.
Really, he hadn’t expected protest from Sophia, nor even truly from Alice, but the lack was almost as painful, as was the quick grace with which she sat down and raised her skirt. “You’ll have to come around,” she said, “for I don’t think it would help matters were I to sit on your desk.”
She spoke with mild, friendly tones and smiled wryly, just as she might have done in any other mildly troublesome situation, as if Cathal hadn’t put her in danger, as if he hadn’t failed in the most basic duty of a host. When he extracted himself from his chair and came over to her, he studied her face, looking for anger or accusation, and found none.
Kneeling in front of her felt like homage, and he minded not at all.
That moment passed swiftly, though, shattered by the sight of the ring of discolored skin around her ankle.
He didn’t think either of the women knew enough Gaelic to translate the oath he swore, but his voice probably made the meaning quite clear. Alice’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve seen this before? I thought you might have.”
