“Aye,” Bess added.
“I certainly hope so,” I replied.
The afternoon slipped away as we moved from one task to another, following the whispered guidance of the dead. With each completed errand, another voice would fade from the chorus in my mind, replaced by a new one with its own urgent plea. The lasses threw themselves into each quest with unbridled enthusiasm, their faces flushed with excitement as we traversed the castle grounds, becoming conspirators in a secret mission that only we understood.
As we walked toward the garden, an elderly woman whispered in my head.
The locket is beneath the loose stone in the garden wall. Tell Mairi I want her to have it. Tell her I forgive her for the harsh words we exchanged before I passed.
We found the small silver locket exactly where the voice had directed, tucked away in a crevice between stones, protected from the elements by a scrap of oilcloth. The ancient woman who received it from our hands wept silently, her bony fingers trembling as they closed around the trinket she’d thought lost forever.
As we left her cottage, Guinn slipped her hand into mine, squeezing gently. “Ye’re making people happy,” she observed.
From there, we were directed to the orchard, where a stable boy’s dead brother begged us to deliver a message about a fishing spot they’d discovered. As the lad bolted toward the forest without another word, Bess asked, “Do the dead really see us all the time?”
“I do nae ken for certain,” I admitted as I led us back to the castle. “But they seem to ken things they could nae possibly without being able to see us.”
Our final task came as the sun began its descent toward the horizon. We were to find a bag of coins a warrior hadn’t told his wife about, but then he’d died in a riding accident, and she’d struggled ever since, unaware of the fortune lying beneath her feet in the floorboards where he’d hidden the treasure.
The woman’s disbelief turned to sobbing gratitude as I pried up the board and revealed the leather pouch heavy with coins. She clutched my hands in hers, her touch fierce with emotion.
“Ye’ve saved my children and me,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “How can I ever repay ye?”
“Ye do nae owe me anything,” I assured her. “Yer husband wished for ye to have this. That’s payment enough.”
By sunset, my body ached with exhaustion, my limbs heavy as if I’d spent the day in hard labor rather than moving through the castle and village. We had returned to the garden, where I slumped against a stone wall, watching as Guinn and Bess chased each other around the pathway, their energy seemingly boundless despite our day of errands.
The chorus of voices in my mind had quieted somewhat, as if the dead were granting me a moment’s respite. I welcomed the relative silence, using it to reflect on the day’s events and the transformation I felt within me.
All my life since Lisette’s death, I’d clung to careful plans, afraid that spontaneity would lead to disaster. Yet today, I’d surrendered completely to uncertainty, following ghostly voices from one task to another without knowing where they would lead or what challenges we might face. And in that surrender, I’d found more peace than any carefully plotted course had ever brought me.
The irony was not lost on me. In embracing the unpredictability I’d feared, I’d discovered a freedom I hadn’t known existed. Each small act of service to the dead had loosened the invisible rope around my neck that had been slowly strangling the life out of me.
Yet for all our efforts, Isabella remained silent. No whisper of her voice had reached me throughout the day. What if she never spoke to me again? What if I’d lost my only chance to hear the truth that might heal Munro’s wounded heart?
As the thought of Munro crossed my mind, a fresh wave of anxiety washed over me. Had he already decided to send me away? The possibility sent a cold shiver down my spine. Likely, if he wasn’t already back from his ride, he would be soon.
“Lasses,” I called, pushing myself to my feet with effort. “It’s nearly time for supper. Ye should go inside and wash up and make yer way to the great hall.”
“Are ye nae coming?” Bess asked, her face falling with disappointment.
I shook my head, unable to face the prospect of sitting across from Munro at the high table, enduring his cold silence or worse, his open contempt. “I’m weary from our day’s work,” I said, which was no lie. “I think I’ll retire early.”
Guinn studied my face. “Is it because of Da?” she asked quietly. “He seemed angry this morning.”
“Yer da has much on his mind,” I said carefully. “Sometimes adults need time to sort through their thoughts.”
Guinn didn’t look convinced, but she nodded, taking Bess’s hand. “Will ye help more ghosts tomorrow?” she asked.
“Aye, if they’ll let me,” I replied. “Now off with ye both, before ye’re late for supper.”
I watched them hurry away, their small figures gradually swallowed by the shadows of the castle walls. Only when they were out of sight did I allow my shoulders to slump, the mask ofcalm I’d maintained for their benefit slipping away to reveal the bone-deep weariness beneath.
My bedchamber felt both sanctuary and prison as I closed the door behind me. I did not light a candle, preferring the darkness that matched my mood. The voices of the dead had fallen silent, as if they too had exhausted their strength for the day. Or perhaps they sensed my desperation to hear one voice in particular and had withdrawn out of respect.
I moved to the side of the bed and sank to my knees, the stone floor cold and unyielding beneath me. My hands clasped together like a child at prayer, though my words were meant not for God but for a woman I’d never met in life.
“Isabella,” I whispered into the gathering darkness, “I beg ye, speak to me. I’ve tried to prove myself worthy of yer trust by helping others. I’ve listened where before I would have turned away. I’ve given what comfort I could to those still living who grieve for their dead.” My voice caught, thick with emotion. “I’ll give anything to aid Munro. He suffers still, and I fear only the truth can free him.”
