Angus seized his arm.
“Bruce has given me my home,” she said. “The home that was my mother’s. It is to be my dowry.... I am mistress of Brodie now.”
“Bitch!” He screamed. “You have gone over to Bruce? Bitch!”
Angus began to drag him away. “Ye’ll sleep below tonight, my English lord.”
Godfrey struggled uselessly against the larger man. “I am not English, you savage ass! What did you do, Alana? And why? Why?” He was screaming, tears running down his face.
“Bruce will be king,” she gasped, and she realized she was crying, too. “Please, Angus, unhand him, we are only talking!”
“Iain said he is to go to the dungeons if he causes trouble,” Angus spat.
“He is not causing me harm,” Alana said. Godfrey laughed again, without mirth.
“And what will your lover think when he learns the truth about you?”
He meant to tell Iain about her sight? A weight dropped within Alana’s chest. “Godfrey!” She rushed to him. “There is no reason to say anything!”
“No reason? You have stabbed me in the back! You have stolen Brodie from me!”
“Don’t do this,” she begged. “We are friends.”
“Friends? Friends do not betray one another! Friends do not steal from one another!”
“Brodie was stolen from me!” Alana cried. “From me!”
Iain stepped back into the hall, saying, “The whole castle can hear ye screaming at one another.” He was dark. He looked back and forth between them, with suspicion.
Alana stared silently at Godfrey, begging him with her eyes to keep her secret.
His gaze filled with tears, Godfrey stared back. Then he turned to Iain. “Do you not want to know the truth about her?”
Iain glanced at Alana. She felt her gaze becoming moist, and she turned away, sinking back down onto the bench. Eleanor sat beside her and took her hand.
“What is he speaking of, Alana?” Iain asked, very quietly.
Alana made a helpless gesture. “There is something,” she began. She choked. How could she tell him? Images flashed in her mind, of times when he had looked at her with warmth, with affection, with lust or with admiration...and too many images then followed, rapidly, of other men, staring at her with horror, in fear, repulsed.
“She is a witch,” Godfrey said.
Iain started, glancing at Godfrey.
“Your lover is a witch. Everyone knows. Ask anyone.”
Iain seemed amused. He turned to Alana, who trembled, sick with desperation, her gaze glued to his. His amusement vanished. Puzzled, he said, “Alana? What does he speak of?”
She hugged herself. “He is telling you the truth.”
“What?”
“I have the sight, Iain. I am a witch.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Then he said, “Everyone leave us.”
* * *
ANETERNITYSEEMEDto go by then, as everyone left the hall, Angus pulling Godfrey with him, Eleanor shooting Alana a worried glance, as she, too, got up and left. When they were all gone, Alana remained seated on the bench at the table, alone. Iain stood before her, his stance braced, one hand on the hilt of one sword. The only sound to be heard in the chamber was the hiss and crackle of the fire and Alana’s heavy breathing.
