I cling to the dream I was having—was Poppa in it? Were we at home?—but Donag flings off my covers and shakes me hard, robbing me of warmth, Poppa, and any happy thoughts.
“Useless girl, lazing away the morning staring at the coo’s tail.”
“Coo—cows?” I prop onto my elbow and scowl up at her.
I’ve traveled back in time. I’m in the past. And it’s this woman’s fault.
Her glare sharpens. “Do you mock me?”
I quickly mumble, “Forget it.” I’m in no rush to parse what her curses might mean, or be capable of.
“’Tis you who’s forgotten. You’ve a day of work ahead.”
“Chill, lady.” I swing my legs out of bed, but cramps shoot up my calves the moment my feet touch the bitterly cold floor. “Jesus! How the hell do you manage to make this place both stuffyandfreezing?”
“Mind your tongue. Blaspheming sluts dinnae get to stay under my protection.”
“I am so not a slut.” I stand tall, trying to conceal my shivering. I refuse to let this woman get the best of me. “And you have some strange ideas about protection.”
“Back-talkers don’t stay under my protection neither.”
Like I’d trustherto protect me.
There’s no way I’m spending a whole year here. I quickly scan the room. I bet she’s got a book of spells hidden somewhere. I can learn a few chants. I’m just as smart and capable as Donag.
And there’s a new moon every month, though I don’t know the timing of black moons. How I regret ever rolling my eyes at Poppa’s belovedFarmer’s Almanac.
She slams a large, chipped bowl onto the table beside me, and I jump. Murky water sloshes over the sides.
“What’s that for?”
“Time to wash. You smell like a goat.”
The water is even colder than the floor, and by the time I’m done splashing my face and armpits, the joints in my hands ache. There’s no towel in sight, so I dab my face on the hem of my dress, grimacing because I do smell pretty goaty.
I stand and face her. Face this. “I need clothes. And shoes.”
She’s stirring a pot over the fire, and she pauses to give me a bemused stare. “You demand fromme?”
This woman loves Callum. She’s fierce about kin and clan. Protecting him would be her number one priority.
I take a gamble. “I could wear this dress every day, no problem. But people in the castle might notice. You said that’s where I’m working today, right?” I pinch the fabric. “Wait tillthey see this. It’s incredibly soft. Softer, I bet, than anything you’ve got. With thousands of these perfectly even, teensy-tiny stitches. They might wonder where I got it. Where I came from and who brought me here.” I give a careless shrug. “I thought witches used to be burned at the stake. But maybe witchcraft is cool in, what year did you say it was, 1622?”
I’ve struck a nerve.
She makes a hissing-spitting sound as she storms to her shelf. She snatches a threadbare dress the color of dirt and tosses it to me. “If you cannae remember the year, you’ll be the one strung up for your simple mind.”
She sizes up my larger-than-average feet with disdain, muttering, “Not about to blow over in a stiff wind, are you?” then rifles through the trunk in the corner, pulling out a pair of boots. “The lad outgrew these before he’d a chance to break them in. Should work for your muckle feet.”
Donag doesn’t move. So I huddle in the corner and change as fast as I can, pleasantly surprised she got my size right. Maybe it’s a witch thing.
When I turn back around, a bowl of pale mush is waiting for me, a small fabric-wrapped bundle by its side.
“Eat.” She shoves a spoon in the bowl. Nudges the satchel. “Then take this to Callum on your way to the castle.”
Hearing his name makes me strangely nervous. “To Callum?” Will he be angry that I’ve taken over his bed? I like hanging out in barns, but I’m not sure I’d want to sleep in one.
“You ken fine who I’m talking aboot. I seen how you ogle the lad. Inherited Janet’s indecent ways, you did.”
