The world felt wrong in its quiet. The storm had passed in the night, tearing itself apart and leaving Castle McMurphy washed clean and deceptively peaceful. The air was sharp and cool, carrying the scent of wet stone and crushed grass. Sunlight filtered through thinning clouds, pale and uncertain, glinting on puddles that mirrored the gray sky above.
Lydia walked beside Iris along the inner path that traced the castle walls, her boots sinking slightly into the softened earth. The stones under their feet were slick, darkened by rain, and ivy dripped steadily from the battlements overhead.
It’s too calm now.
She clasped her cloak tighter around herself though the chill she felt had little to do with the air.
“Ye’re walkin’ holes into the ground,” Iris remarked gently though her eyes were sharp as they scanned the walls. “If ye keep that pace, ye’ll wear the path away.”
Lydia forced a small smile. “I’m sorry. I dinnae realize.”
“Ye’ve been restless since dawn,” Iris said. “Ye barely touched yer breakfast.”
“I wasnae hungry.”
“That’s nae like ye.”
Lydia slowed then stopped altogether, turning to face her sister. “I feel as though I’ve forgotten somethin’ important.”
Iris frowned. “Forgotten?”
“Aye. Or… nay.” Lydia shook her head, frustrated. She didn’t know how to express this strange feeling that had gripped her that very morning; she didn’t know how to put it into words. “Nay forgotten. More like the world is holdin’ its breath.”
A raven croaked from the wall above them, harsh and sudden. Lydia flinched, suddenly on high alert.
Iris followed her gaze. “It’s just a bird.”
“I ken,” Lydia said quickly. “I ken. But daenae ye feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“That this quiet is borrowed.” Lydia gestured vaguely toward the green stretch of lawn, the hedges heavy with rain, the gatestanding closed and solid. “That somethin’ is wrong because nothin’ is wrong.”
Iris studied her for a long moment then reached out and took Lydia’s hand. “Ye’ve been livin’ with fear for weeks,” she said softly. “It doesnae simply vanish because the sky clears.”
“But this is different,” Lydia insisted. “I can feel somethin’ is wrong.”
“Somethin’ is wrong, Lydia,” said Iris with a soft sigh. “Somethin’ is wrong, but that doesnae mean ye’re in danger in this very moment. Daenae fash. I’m right here with ye.”
They resumed walking, slower now. Lydia nodded to herself, thinking that perhaps she was too cautious now, too frightened, expecting danger to jump out at any moment.
And when it did, she wouldn’t be fighting only for herself anymore. Now, she had another life to protect.
“Ye think Sebastian will come,” Iris said after a moment of silence, not as a question.
Lydia swallowed. “I daenae ken. I just… every time the wind shifts, I expect to hear horns or shoutin’.”
Iris squeezed her hand. “Elijah has men posted on the walls. Scouts beyond them. If anythin’ moves within miles, we’ll ken.”
“Before they reach the gates?” Lydia asked quietly.
“Aye, said Iris. “Before they reach the gates.”
But after a lifetime of knowing her sister, Lydia could tell when she was lying.
They passed under a stone arch that opened onto a small inner green, the grass flattened in places by rain. The castle loomed around them, walls high and reassuring, but Lydia found herself glancing up at them with unease rather than comfort.
“Do ye think Kieran is angry with me?” she asked suddenly.
