“I would give anything for you to spend one more Samhain with your family.”
A wistful smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I know you would. But you and the boys are my family now, and this time has its own magic.”
He leaned in, lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss. The flames in the hearth danced, mirroring the passion that had only deepened as the years passed. As they held each other, surrounded by the ancient stones and the stories they held, Lucy knew that their love was a thread woven through time itself, and she hoped that somehow her aunts and sisters would know that she was happy, just as Lucy was sure they were thriving in their time.
The next morningfound Lucy in the bustling castle kitchen, the air thick with the aroma of baking bread and simmering stews.
As the morning passed, her thoughts turned to the village. One of the boys who labored in the stables told her that his friend and their family were ill. The village healer had married and moved away with the traveling merchant she’d met last year during one of the weekly market days.
After kissing the children, Lucy stopped in the lists to let William know she was taking soup to the family.
“Take Thomas and two of the men with you.”
He winked at her and went back to throwing knives with the men as she took a moment to lean against the wall, watching him as sunlight glinted off the blades.
Buttercup, her horse, was waiting in the stables. The boy had already gone ahead in a cart headed for the village. The boy would let the family know Lady Blackford was coming.
CHAPTER 3
The village was bustling,an idyllic scene of rustic charm though she could do without the disgusting smells. With the village being inland, the sea breezes didn’t reach this far to carry the stink away.
Chickens roamed freely, goats and sheep exchanged animated conversations, and merchants hawked their wares from thatch-roofed timber cottages lining the muddy lane. The weekly market would increase the size of the village twofold, with traveling merchants and people coming from tiny nearby villages. Most of the homes had small gardens in the back, already tilled over and ready for the coming winter.
The sun was shining, making the day warm as the villagers were busy mending fences and splitting firewood, while women swept doorsteps and tended to the animals. Children scampered underfoot, their chores momentarily forgotten as they cast curious glances at Lady Blackford in her blue gown, as she and the men passed through on horseback.
Memories of past prejudices still haunted her, making itdifficult at times for Lucy to spend time in the village other than the market days, but since the village healer left and the castle healer had passed away, it fell on her, so for William, she would do what needed to be done.
The murmured greetings she received were polite, but she caught several people making the sign of the cross as she passed. No doubt the lingering effects of Clement declaring her a fairy and then a witch.
Back in her own time, the term ‘witch’ bore little weight, often associated with fun Halloween traditions like dancing around bonfires or putting up various decorations, including orange and purple blinking lights, brooms, pumpkins, spell books, and fake cauldrons filled with dry ice.
Samhain, on the other hand, wasn’t about lighthearted fun, but rather a time when the veils between worlds was thin, a time when one needed protection against restless souls. The whole veil being thin, Lucy could personally attest to, as to the rest? Well, so far, no ghosts had appeared in the castle corridors.
Every year Lucy excitedly picked out a costume, everything from a ballerina to a scientist, to a witch, and one year she’d dressed up as Wonder Woman, complete with a lasso spray painted gold.
It had been so much fun tramping from house to house clutching a pillowcase full of candy, eating caramel apples, comparing candy hauls with her sisters and friends, carving faces into pumpkins set down the front steps to light the way for trick-or-treaters, and then ending the night on the beach, telling spooky stories around the bonfire.
She wished she could share some of that fun with the villagers without them calling her a witch. This year, Lucywanted to invite everyone in the village to Blackford to celebrate.
The dirt path to the village was muddy after the rain last night. Careful to avoid the deeper puddles, she guided Buttercup around them so the muddy water wouldn’t splash on her dress.
Thomas rode in front, following the boy from the stables, who led the way to the humble abode, while the other two guards rode behind Lucy, keeping watch.
As they turned the corner, Lucy caught sight of a beautiful noblewoman with auburn hair dressed in fine silks riding with her husband through the village.
When they dismounted, a woman stopped in the middle of tossing water onto the dirt, scowling at the departing couple.
“Best stay away from that one, my lady.” The woman spat on the ground. “Last night at the inn, she had a young serving maid beaten for spilling her wine.”
The woman narrowed her eyes as the noblewoman turned and looked over her shoulder at them, glaring at them both.
“Doesn’t seem to care for you, lady.”
Lucy dismounted, letting one of the guards see to Buttercup. “Who is she?”
The woman, who’d already lost interest, shrugged. “No one from around here.”
The conversation over, Lucy noticed a few villagers gathered outside a small cottage as a young girl sat in the dirt, weeping.
