“Why?”
“That night haunts me,” he said at last. “I wish to bury it as best as I can.”
“But can ye really if ye refuse to speak about it?”
“I have spoken to Uncle about it.”
“And me?”
“If ye are so worried about hearin’ the story, say it. Do nae act like it is for me good that I should speak. ‘Tis well enough for me to have spoken to someone about it. I do nae need more!”
With that, Torcall turned and left the room.
He needed peace. He needed to be alone. Why was it so hard for many to understand that he didn’t want to speak about it? He wasn’t eager to relive the memory, and yet it was all anybody seemed to want. Why would they not trust him when he said it would do more harm than good?
Torcall marched out to the stables where his horse was kept.
“Would ye like yer horse readied, sire?” the stable boy asked.
“Nay, Jack,” he replied the lad. “I will do it meself.”
He needed to keep his hands busy. He needed to keep his mind busy—anything to forget. Torcall mounted his horse swiftly. Then, without thinking, he rode. Where? He didn’t care; he didn’t know. He just wanted to go away--far away and not look back.
Hours later, after running in circles and lines, Torcall found himself at the loch. The loch had been one of his favorite places as a child. When his Faither still lived, he had brought Torcall to the loch to fish. His Faither would fill his head with many stories of faraway lands that never existed and faraway lands that did.
The loch was a large one. The banks were fitted with large stones that made perfect chairs for visitors. The surrounding grasses were low, green, and rich, evidence of the soil’s fertility. Far to the left were trees that provided shade and canopies. It was there that Torcall decided to take a nap.
He lay under the tree, resting on the leaves that had formed a sort of cushion, and closed his eyes. The chirping of the birds in the tree lulled him, and soon, Torcall was fast asleep.
Chapter Four
“Alina?” Ceana hovered over her sister’s unconscious body. It had been twenty minutes since she passed out, and Ceana was worried.
“Perhaps ye should leave her be,” Regina said and stepped out of the room, leaving the sisters alone.
Ceana focused on holding the tears back. She had cried enough, she told herself, and yet, she couldn’t stop more tears from forming. She reached for her sister’s pale hand and rubbed it between her palms.
How were they supposed to deal with it, she wondered even as she tried to stop her eyes from tearing up? They said that Bridget had never returned home from the previous night’s feast. The last time she had seen Bridget, she had been taking her away from Torcall. They said that she had been stabbed. Stabbed! She choked a sob. Who would have done such a thing? For all her haughtiness and her ability to cause strife, Bridget had never hurt anyone. She was closer to Alina in age, and both sisters had cared for her.
They had grown up together, even! How was she supposed to cope? She laid down on her sister’s unconscious figure and wept.
After what felt like hours but was just minutes, Alina’s eyes fluttered open.
“Ceana?” she called. She looked down and saw her sister’s head laid lightly on her belly as she wept. Slowly, what had happened came back to her.
“Ceana?” she said again, tearing up, “please tell me ‘tis nae true. Please.”
Ceana’s heart broke again even more at her sister's words. The two sisters held each other as they cried. The questions filled her mind. Who had done it? Why had they done it? It had been someone in the clan—that was most likely. Their clan was not so welcoming to visitors, and so, a visitor would have been closely watched.
The realization sent chills down her spine. Did they know the murderer? Had they spoken to him? Conversed with him? Did they pass him each day and exchange pleasantries? How hadn’t they detected an aura of evil from the person?
The sisters sobbed like their hearts would break, and soon, they realized that they were stuck in the reality that Bridget was no more. They wiped their tears and sat in silence on the bed, not standing or speaking.
However, Alina seemed to be worse. While Ceana was restless and would move around often as though trying to shake off reality, Alina was quiet as a whisper and white as a ghost. Her eyes looked empty and dead as she stared off into nothingness. Soon, Ceana could not stand another minute of it.
“Alina?” she whispered and placed her hands on her sister’s shoulder. “Say somethin’ to me, please.”
Alina didn’t speak.
