“Ceana?”
“Where do ye want to go?’
“Away,” he answered. “Anywhere that brings me peace.”
Ceana liked him. she knew without a doubt that she wanted him, but she knew even more that she would be miserable without her sister and mother. She couldn’t leave the clan forever.
As seconds passed, Ceana felt a wave of anger fill her. However, she said nothing. Rather, she continued to drink her mead.
Torcall, on the other hand, was still speaking.
“It would be the perfect way to erase the memories of the clan.”
Memories of her too, she thought bitterly.
Her anger had reached its peak, and with bravery she didn’t usually possess, she turned to him.
“Why are ye doing this, then?” she asked him.
“Doin’ what?” he seemed taken aback, and the confusion in his voice angered her further.
“This picnic. Seein’ me all week, takin’ me to the play, showin’ up where ye knew that I would be.”
Torcall seemed speechless, but she was not having it.
“What about me, Torcall?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Torcall’s eyes looked pained, then they turned dark, and he began to speak.
“That night was just like every other night. Me da and ma had joked at the dinner table, and we had all laughed. I remembered watching them laugh and being happy. How old was I? Twelve. I was a young lad of twelve, and I wasnae ready for what would happen. Me ma put me in bed as she always did. I argued that I was too old, but she wouldn’t hear of it…”
“Ye do nae have to put me in bed every night, ma,” he said with a sigh. “I am a warrior like me da.”
His mum patted his hair lovingly. “Ye will forever be me baby,” she kissed his head. “Do nae forget that.”
He sighed but smiled as well. “Good night, ma.”
“Good night, Torcall.” She blew off the candle beside his bedside as Torcall couldn’t sleep with the lights on.
With his room silent, he had fallen into a peaceful sleep. A terrible scream had awoken him in the dead of night.
“Nay, please,” he heard his mother sob.
Torcall, frightened, had reached for the hunting knife his Faither had given him and tiptoed out of the room.
He approached his parent’s room where the screaming was coming from. His heart beat loudly, and he could hear the pounding in his eardrums. But he had pushed his fear aside and pushed the door open and…
“Torcall?” Ceana called, with worry etched on her face. “Ye broke off.”
Torcall looked away, ashamed that he had let his mind take over again.
“Me parents died in the only home I had ever known,” he said to her. “I cannae stay in the clan because everythin’ reminds me of that awful night. The years do nae matter. Nothin’ does. They are gone, and nothing can bring them back.”
Ceana stared at the young man in front of her, and sadness enveloped her. Torcall was still angry—that was obvious. Time hadn’t healed that wound, and Ceana realized there was nothing she could do about it.
She could never have Torcall, and the earlier she resigned herself to that fact, the better it would be for her.”
Chapter Ten
