Darragh snapped his head up.Talia’s foal.
“The gelding must have trampled over her during the chaos. We found it under the ruins. We should never have let them room together.”
When Darragh did not say anything, Cohen continued.
“He might nae make it as well. He is old and has inhaled too much smoke, and the vet suspects he is also heartbroken.”
“How’s Willow?”
“She suffered a few burns, but she would live. The rest are in the paddock, running around. Whoever did this must have been trying to kill ye.”
“Nay, it was too early in the morning. Unless he was spying on me, he never would have ken I would be in the stables. He wanted to hurt me by killing the horses. He was lucky that I happened to be present.”
Unlucky, rather, considering only one horse died.
But Darragh could not deny the arsonist’s luck. He must have shot at a distance that did not afford him a good view of the stables, and still he hit his mark. Even though he didn’t kill allthe horses like he intended, he had killed one and wounded the stable boy, and also burned down the stables, which would cost him a lot to rebuild.
“I cannae figure out who would do this. Nay one holds a grudge against me.”
It couldn’t have been another clan. Their clan at the moment was weak. They could easily be overrun without petty tricks. Attacking the stables was a minor loss compared to what they could gain from overthrowing him.
“There’s one man ye’ve offended this week.”
He thought hard. Was it Talia’s ex-fiancé? It did not make sense for him to do this for a woman.
Talia was definitely a woman Darragh would go to war for, but he needed substantial proof. “It seems unlikely.”
Cohen folded his arms over his chest and shrugged. “Daenae underestimate the lengths a man would go to over a bruised ego.”
Darragh did not want to entertain the idea, but he could not think of anything else.
“The arrows arenae from our clan. Tomorrow, go down to the village and confirm with the blacksmith that they are from Clan MacDonald. For now, take the dogs and find out where theshooter hid. The smell of oil and tar would be heavy wherever they were.”
25
With Cohen gone, Darragh had the entire afternoon to himself.
His days started at nine, two hours later than usual. He enjoyed a nice warm bath, which lasted an hour after the thirty minutes he took to pull himself out of bed and undo his bandages.
It was eleven by the time he was dressed and ready to start the day. Breakfast called for him, but he decided a day of laziness was warranted and called for a tray. Meals were noticeably more enjoyable when one’s mother wasn’t fussing over impertinent details, like well-being and such.
His mother had been aghast when she found him in Talia’s workroom yesterday. She had spent lunch and dinner pestering him about his ability to eat on his own, which he thought unnecessary, considering he was performing the action with dexterity.
Cohen had informed him that he would be visiting the blacksmith that afternoon, as he had requested, and would then pay a visit to the gatehouse, where he intended to interrogate the guards about suspicious persons visiting the keep. Until he returned, there was nothing to do.
The dogs were not successful in tracking the culprit. Oil was such a commonly used resource, and the hounds were having trouble pinpointing any peculiarity. Their search was limited to the grounds. When the dogs failed, they took a different approach.
The arsonist had shot haphazardly, which meant he hadn’t had a clear view of the stables, but had been at a distance where the arrows could carry. The parish’s belfry offered both a view that justified the shots and a plausible distance.
Upon investigation, the minister had informed them that no visitor had been received at that time. Another dead end.
Darragh finished eating by noon and then resolved to find Talia.
The door to her workroom was ajar when he arrived. He found her leaning over her desk, her lips pursed in concentration. He stole into the room, keeping his footfalls quiet. He hadn’t realized then that he was about to give her the fright of her life.
She rose half mindedly and turned round, then screamed. It was a surprise she did not drop the vial in her hand. He rushed to her, intending to comfort her. But she did not let him touch her. Instead, she drove her fist into his shoulder in resentment.
“Ye frightened me.”
