“What happened at Concarn, Alana?”
“I told Iain the truth about my father. Iain and Bruce think I was sent to spy upon them.”
Eleanor paled.
“I love him, but I do not think he loves me right now.” She stood and walked over to the window. The shutter was closed and she pulled it open. A pigeon was standing on the ledge outside the window, drinking from the small pool of water that had gathered there from melting snow. It flew off.
Alana watched it for a moment as it vanished into the darkening sky, and then she glanced at the bright silvery puddle.
Eleanor said, “Maybe that is for the best.”
But she sounded far away, when she was seated so close by, upon the bed. Alana realized the tiny puddle was mesmerizing her. She must look away. Instead, the silver within the water intensified in brightness, becoming blinding. She felt light-headed and dizzy; she felt faint.
Silver beckoned, a bright, frightening light. Alana had never seen such a bright white light before.
The light shimmered like a cloud floating in space.
She saw the outlines of a stone chamber, dully lit by torches and candles. She saw that four people were standing there. It took her a moment to realize that all four figures were women, and it took her another moment to realize that something terrible was about to happen.
One of the women sobbed. Three of them held one another, as if to stand upright. The fourth stood alone. Her dark hair was long and oddly familiar.
Alana realized she was staring at herself.
And then one of the women dashed to the bed and screamed.
A man lay there, the sheets blood soaked. His face was ghostly white. His blue eyes were wide and sightless. His hair was blond....
It was Sir Alexander.
“Alana!”
Alana began to vomit, clawing the stone beneath her fingernails. All she could see was her father, lying dead upon that bed, as the floor spun crazily around her.
CHAPTER NINE
ALANAPAUSEDONthe threshold of the great hall the following day, clasping a wool mantle tightly to her chest.
Everyone had gathered for the breakfast. Buchan was eating with a hearty appetite, as was Godfrey. Her father was sitting back, not eating, clearly absorbed in thought.
Alana stared at him, trembling.
What did her vision of the night before mean? Was her father going to die—and would she be present when he did?
She had not slept at all last night, worried as she was about her father. She might be distrustful of him and his intentions, and she was hurt to the quick by his favoritism, but she had no wish for him to die.
As she had done when she had had her vision of the destruction of the Buchan earldom, she prayed this vision was a false one, too.
And if it was not? What was she going to do?
Her father saw her and smiled.
Buchan saw her, too. There was no turning back. Alana started forward with Eleanor, her insides churning. She wanted to do her duty, of course she did. The problem was, she no longer knew what that duty was, or to whom it was owed.
Alana sat down next to Godfrey, across from Sir Alexander. As she greeted everyone, all she could see was her father lying dead on that bed, the sheets soaked with his blood.
“Good morn, Alana.” Sir Alexander was cheerful.
Alana somehow smiled. “Good morning.”
