Eddard wasn’t sure what to make of her. She was clearly out of her mind. All this talk about keys and magic doors made no sense to him.
That didn’t matter. What mattered was she was the key to his return. He could use her to get back into the clan and get revenge on Ronald for everything he’d done. He might even get to take his place as steward.
No, that was too much to hope for. He would be grateful just to be back in the castle where he belonged. He would miss the island but it had never been his home, not really.
His home lay within the soaring walls of the castle he knew like the back of his hand, even if it had been more than a decade since he’d been there.
Angela’s cottage came into view, standing alone like a lighthouse on the clifftop. He thought about how many times he’d sat fishing with her on the beach below. She had been like a mother to him ever since he’d arrived on the island, talking softly to him, bringing him out of the dark and smoldering fury he’d felt when he was first exiled.
Angela was outside chopping wood. From this distance she might be mistaken for a young woman even though she was pushing seventy.
She stood perfectly straight, tossing logs into the barrow from the pile she’d made. She waved when she saw him, turning to vanish inside. He knew what was happening. The kettle would be hooked over the fire, ready for their arrival.
“Is she a friend of yours?” Jessica asked. “Angela, I mean?”
“She’s a friend to all,” he replied. “Even you with your mad hair and mad clothes and even madder ways.”
“Hey, what’s wrong with me? I’m friendly enough, aren’t I?”
“I fear you’re insane.”
“Don’t hold that against me. I’m still a nice person.”
“Who tries to climb collapsing walls and talks about magic keys to doors that dinnae go anywhere?”
They’d reached the house by that point, the smell of flowers soon swamped by the smoke that emanated through the thatch topping the cottage.
The door was open and Eddard ducked as far as he could, still scraping his head on the arch before getting inside. He stood up straight again in time to see Angela place three steaming pewter mugs on her tiny trestle table.
“Come in,” she said. “I see you’ve brought some company today. Who might you be, lass?”
“Jessica Abrahams.”
Eddard shot her a look. “You’re supposed to say Morag.”
“She does look like Morag would,” Angela said. “The perfect mirror of Rachel, God save them both. Come and sit down, get some tea inside you. You look like you need it. ’Tis a cold enough day.”
Jessica took one of the mugs from the table and settled into the chair in the corner, her back to the fire which sat in a square hearth in the middle of the cottage. Eddard sat opposite her, looking at her through the smoke that drifted up to the thatch above their heads.
The smell was good, relaxing him in moments. Nothing bad ever happened at Angela’s cottage. It was a law stronger than that which made the tides and the sunrise.
The old woman took her own mug and sipped at it while running her eyes over a half-made woollen blanket that hung from a hook on the wall beside her.
“Should have this finished in time for winter,” she said, turning around to face them. “Where are my manners? I’m Angela Mayfield and it’s my pleasure to meet you, Jessica. Or should I say Morag?”
Eddard coughed. “I should explain.” He gave her the short version of his plan, ending by asking her to help with convincing the abbot that his new companion was the missing princess.
“I think I can help with that,” Angela said. “It would be good to have the clan whole again, give two grieving parents their daughter back.”
“I’m not their daughter,” Jessica said. “You do know that, right?”
Angela laughed. “I ken a few things. Morag was a bonny wee lass, always happy but so mischievous. I bet you’re the same. There was the time she tried to steal apples from the tree and fell and broke her arm. Left a wee scar. We were so worried about her but she just laughed, didnae even cry. Hated having to rest while it healed though, demanded apples every day and Cam brought them to her as meek as a lamb. She was loved by both of them, her and her brother.”
“She had a brother?”
“Aye, shipped off to a monastery when she went missing. Barely more than a babe in arms. The steward did that though, told them it was for the best. They were too busy grieving to notice. The poor lad didnae ken why they sent him away. I wonder sometimes how he’s doing.”
“I didn’t know he had a brother,” Jessica said.
