Holding it up, she showed it to Rab who woofed his approval at the find. “I’d almost forgotten. It really has been a day, aye? I should get changed.”
Rab led the way back to her bedchamber where Aila expected to find Brontë and Tris waiting for her. Although a glance at her clock confirmed it was long past time for them to rendezvous, the room was empty. Thankfully, it was also warm. She shed her wet clothes in front of the fire with sincere thanks for whoever had come around to rekindle it for her. Her phone and the time machine fell out of the inner pocket of her leggings.
That’s right, she’d carried her phone back with her. Shivering, she set the items aside and dried herself off then donned a plain blouse, a petticoat and wool skirt. She laced up an outer corset to keep everything in its proper place. While they weren’t the fanciest clothes she had, they were comfortable and warm following her run through the freezing rain. After a moment’s thought, Aila added a pocket and tucked the key into it.
A few minutes ticked by. She combed her hair in front of the fire and braided it, resisting the urge to watch the clock. Sensing her restlessness, Rab paced the room. To the door and back, nails clicking on the wood floor then muffled by the rug. Aila picked up her phone, but unable to flip through any feeds to distract herself, she added it to her pocket. If nothing else, she could finally take a picture of Finn. There was that, at least.
Rab sat down by the door with a garbled whine-slash-woof. She looked back at the clock. Her stomach was tied in anxious knots. It hadn’t even been ten minutes since Finn left. “We need to be patient. He’ll be back.”
The dog lifted a dubious brow with a low, decidedly negative woof.
“We’ve probably missed it already anyway.” He went to his spot by the fireplace and laid down with a huff, his nose inches away from where she’d set the time travel device. “Och, ye’re a bad influence on me, Rabbie lad.”
Rab bounced up and his head swiveled expectantly between her and the door.
“Ye’re right. We should go take a peek, aye?” Aila shoved her feet into her shoes and she found her plaid shawl, swinging it around her shoulders before she opened the door and stepped into the hall to close it behind them.
“Stick close now for a sec.” Looping an arm around him, she turned the dial back to minutes after the time Finn had left and pressed the button. “Here we go.”
As usual, the dog ran ahead as if he knew precisely where she intended to go, as if he were privy to her thought processes. He was kind enough to wait for her at the head of the stairs and provide a steady hand for her down the dimly lit steps.
“If I do stay here, I’ll have to work on some lighting solutions.” He chuffed in response and Aila smiled. “We. Ifwestay, aye?”
Turning to the left at the base, she glided on fleet feet from room to room. Aila arrived at the antechamber outside the solar to find the doors closed. Earlier, they had stood open. That didn’t stop her from peeking between the cracks to take a look. Shifting her position, she was able to get a glimpse of the few women around the room. Only one appeared overcome by shock. Her stomach sank. Shite, Finn’s wife was lovely. Blonde, delicate, petite. Aila could see Effie clearly in her perfect features.
Finn stood not far from the door, his back to her and hands clasped behind him. The duke was speaking, his words too muffled to make out. When Finn answered…the fine hairs on the back of Aila’s neck stood on end with the vehemence in his voice. There was not a person in the room whom she could see who didn’t appear similarly affected. Etteridge was pale as a ghost while his wife looked as though she might faint.
When Finn turned back toward the door, Aila leapt away. Guilt suffused her. Torn between staying to be there for him and knowing that if he’d wanted her presence there, he would have asked her to accompany him, she decided to err toward the former. She shouldn’t even be there to begin with. Reasoning that she’d been desperate to find out whether he still intended to challenge Etteridge wasn’t excuse enough. Nor was the torment of wondering how Finn intended to greet his wife. If there was anything he wanted to share with her, he would.
Donell had been right when he’d said that with enough curiosity and a daring disposition, she could solve a centuries-old mystery. What he’d failed to take into consideration was an impulsive streak that tended to get her in way over her head. It had driven her to follow Finn when she ought not, leave him when she definitely shouldn’t, fling him forward in time without warning, and accept Donell’s offer to come here in the first place. And that was only within a month’s time! A twenty-five percent success ratio was no justification. Moving forward, she’d have to work on denying her impulses.
Aila hurried away with Rab on her heels. Once they were out of sight, she slowed and thought about what she’d heard him say to his wife. “That was pure dead brilliant, what he said back there,” she told Rab as they made their way back toward the west tower. “Compelling with a dash of antipathy yet with enough emotional appeal to assure he was the wronged party. And bloody brutal.”
The dog barked his agreement.
“Honestly, a dagger to the chest couldnae have been more effective.”
They reached the base of the stairs. Before Aila could set foot on the bottommost step, Rab veered away and turned down the passage toward the servants’ hall. “Rabbie, come back here!Och, do ye need to go out or something? Need something to eat?”
Unless Rab wanted to gnaw on Sir Clinksalot’s shinbone or piss on his shoe, he’d reached his desired destination at the statue. He snuffled around the base as he had earlier and clawed at the pedestal. The key!
“Ah, ye ken something, do ye no’? Ye’re my canny lad, ye are, Rabbie. Let’s see.”
Further down the passage, the servants’ hall was a buzz with activity, probably in light of the many guests who would soon be expecting their meal. There were so many additional people in the castle at the moment. Heralds, soldiers, noblemen…long lost wives. She’d be lucky if the passage remained empty for long. Whipping out her phone, Aila activated the flashlight function and examined the statue. The shield carved into his tunic was definitely the same as the one on Mr. Boyce’s necklace.
Her thoughts stalled in a moment of mourning for the poor man, but he’d wanted her to expose the truth. Whatever it may be. And she meant to do just that.
Much to her chagrin, there were no keyholes in the statue that she could find and a quick jiggle of the sword hilt on the carved shield proved it was solid stone. There was, however, a narrow slit in the chest of the figure of the rampant lion, just as on the necklace. Too narrow for the key….
“I’m missing something,” she muttered under her breath as she tweaked the little sword again.
Stepping back, she studied the sculpture from top to bottom. A knight similar to those of the Knights Templar. Or those of Monty Python’sHoly Graildepending on one’s frame of mind. A helmeted knight with a tunic covering most of his body. Armor clad feet and arms, hands clasped before him. “Holding a bloody sword.” Aila smacked a hand to her temple. “I’m such a numpty.”
The hilt wasn’t sculpted in relief to the body. It stood independent of it. Aila wrapped her hand around it and tugged.
Nothing.
“Nay, this has to be it.” As Rab pawed at the base of the statue with a series of gurgling huffs, she was sure of it.
