Diarmuid turned to look at her. “I will return—
His expression turned harsh. Ailsa gasped or tried to, but her throat was nearly closed.
“Lass…” Diarmuid had made it to her side.
Ailsa knew he was there and yet, he seemed to be at the end of a very long tunnel. She was floating away from him.
And could not seem to stop.
Chapter Nine
The darkness gaveway to light.
Ailsa blinked. Everything was shrouded in mist. But there was someone there. Ailsa focused and her vision began to clear. It was a girl, likely the same age as she was.
“Hello,” the girl greeted her kindly. “Have they sent you to be my companion? That is very kind.”
Ailsa found it hard to think. But she managed to remember a few details. “Brigitta?”
“Yes.” She clapped her hands together, her expression full of anticipation. “What part of music do you sing? Give me a few notes.”
Ailsa sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Strangely, the chamber became brighter. She opened her mouth and sang a few lines.
“How wonderful,” Brigitta said excitedly. “We can sing complimenting parts. What instruments do you play?”
Brigitta extended her hand in the direction of several musical instruments. As far as education went, Brigitta had been tutored very finely. Just as Ailsa had been. She pointed at the harp.
“We shall have no dull days at all,” Brigitta exclaimed. “Come away from the bed.”
It was a very simple thing, to get out of bed. Yet Ailsa found herself looking at the floor. A fine mist still flowed over it. Putting her feet on to it made her shiver. Beneath her bare feet,the floor was very cold. With each step, that chill went deeper into Ailsa’s bones.
Brigitta had started humming. She was dancing too. She extended her hands toward Ailsa.
“I have been alone for what seems like such a long time. Come…let us begin our friendship.”
Looking down, Ailsa saw the mists, but she also saw a fine silk skirt. She didn’t recall dressing, yet she was clothed in a very pretty spring gown. It was fitting, for it matched Brigitta’s.
“Come…come…,” Brigitta urged her.
Ailsa lifted her hand and placed it into Brigitta’s.
*
“No…” Diarmuid shookAilsa. “Ailsa?”
“Diarmuid?”
Laird Keith stood in the chamber. “Blessed Mother of Christ. Ye are alive!”
His father wrapped him in a fierce hug. Diarmuid pushed free of his father’s embrace and leaned over his wife.
“What ails the lass?” Errol asked.
Diarmuid heard Ailsa struggling to breathe. “Poison,” Diarmuid growled. “In the cider that I bid her drink. Likely placed there to finish me off should I awake after the blow on the back of me skull.”
“That is what laid ye low.” Errol shook his head. “We will find the culprit.”
His father frowned for only a short time before he drew in a breath and resumed smiling.
