Iris stopped short. “What?”
“Before I left, I was so angry with him,” Lydia said. “What if he blames me for nae understandin’? For bein’ difficult?”
Iris turned fully toward her. “If he’s angry, it’s at himself. From what ye’ve told me, he doesnae seem like the kind of man who would blame ye for his own misdeeds.”
“That’s what frightens me, too,” Lydia said. “Men like him daenae forgive themselves easily.”
Iris’s expression softened. “Neither do women like ye.”
Lydia huffed out a breath. “Ye always see too much.”
“I had years of practice,” Iris said quietly. Then, more brightly, “Come. Let us sit. Ye’re pale.”
They moved to a stone bench set against the inner wall, damp but catching a sliver of sunlight. Iris spread her cloak under them before urging Lydia to sit, and Lydia obeyed, though she couldn’t keep her foot from tapping against the ground.
“Ye’re worryin’ yerself sick,” Iris said. “And ye’re with bairn. Ye need to rest.”
“I daenae ken how,” Lydia confessed. “Every time I close me eyes, I see him ridin’ through the storm. I see Sebastian’s face. I hear Kieran’s voice tellin’ me to stay put.”
“And do ye?” Iris asked.
Lydia looked up. “Do I what?”
“Stay put.”
Lydia hesitated. “I try.”
Iris smiled faintly. “That’s all anyone can ask.”
Lydia couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her. But then, just as her spirits lifted, just a little, a shout echoed faintly from the outer yard.
Both sisters stiffened.
Lydia’s heart leapt into her throat. “What was that?”
Iris stood at once, scanning the battlements. “Probably nothin’. A change of watch, perhaps.”
Despite her reassuring words, though, Lydia could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she held herself like a strung bow, ready to strike. For all she was trying to calm Lydia, Iris was far from calm, her darting gaze betraying her worry.
They waited, breath held, the moment stretching thin?—
Then there was silence again.
Lydia exhaled shakily. “See? This is what I mean. Me body reacts before me mind can catch up.”
Iris stepped closer, placing both hands on Lydia’s shoulders. “Listen to me,” she said firmly. “If danger comes, you willnae face it alone. Nae again.”
Lydia’s eyes stung with tears. Her sister’s presence was as much a comfort as it was a worry. The last thing Lydia wanted was for something to happen to Iris because of her, because she was there and because Sebastian wouldn’t spare a soul in his search for her. She would never forgive herself if Iris was hurt or worse, killed.
“I daenae want somethin’ to happen to ye because of me. I daenae want ye to be punished again for somethin’ that isnae yer fault.”
Iris pulled her into a brief, fierce embrace. “This isnae yer fault, Lydia,” she whispered. “It was never yer fault.”
Lydia clung to her for a moment longer then nodded and pulled back.
“I hope ye’re right,” she said, looking toward the gate. “Because if I’m nae imaginin’ this…”
She didn’t finish the sentence; she didn’t need to.
