“I’m tellin’ ye, it must be someone from the outside,” Rhea insisted, with her hands on her hips. “A servant would ken better than to climb like that.”
Avery shook her head. “Nay, that doesnae sit right. Why risk being caught? Someone inside the castle would’ve had easier access.”
“Unless they wanted to be noticed,” Rhea countered. “Send a message.”
Sorcha barely heard them. She sat on the bed, with her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. Their voices faded into the background as her thoughts spiralled.
An assassin.
It must be the same one who had attempted to kill William.Because there was no other way to explain it.
What if… what if I’m next?
The thought slipped from her lips before she could stop it.
The sisters froze.
Sorcha lifted her head, tears shimmering in her eyes. “What if I’m the next target?”
Rhea’s expression faltered. Color drained from Avery’s face. It was as though they were both imagining such horror.
The air thickened with fear.
“I need air,” Sorcha blurted, scrambling to her feet. “I-I cannae stay here.”
Before they could stop her, she bolted out of her room and hurried to the garden.
The morning sun was soft, the air cool. The atmosphere wasn’t harsh, so it was perfect for her to walk aimlessly with her racing heart.
She had never been this afraid.
Perhaps leaving the castle was a good thing, after all. Maybe William had been right, no matter how cruel it felt.
It’s better if I leavebefore he becomes the next target. Before I drag him into this.
Just then, a familiar soft voice broke through her thoughts.
“Will ye be fine?”
Sorcha turned around.
Avery stood a few steps away, her hands clasped before her, her expression calm. She looked every inch the elegant lady.
Sorcha tried to smile… and failed.
Avery approached her slowly. “With everything that’s happening… will ye truly be fine?”
Sorcha looked away, blinking rapidly. How was she going to answer that? She didn’t even know herself.
Avery let out a long sigh. “I’ve noticed, Sorcha. Ye arenae happy about leaving. Nae truly.”
Sorcha looked back at her, her face contorting with hurt.
“Why?” Avery asked gently. “Why does it feel like ye’re mourning instead of celebrating?”
The question was not supposed to break Sorcha, but it did. Her shoulders sagged miserably, everything happening around her becoming too much.
She exhaled shakily. “Because I once vowed never to marry again,” she said quietly. “Because of this same fear. The fear of an unknown curse… or an assassin.”
