“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry, no. Why don’t you find your doll,”her mother suggested.
“Put a kettle on. Once she is warmed up, she will need some tea and something to eat. Maybe then she will tell us what happened. I am not going to bring James’s body back to the duke until I know,”I heard him say just as little Alice came into the room to sit next to me by the fire, her doll held tightly in her tiny hands.
“Hello, there. Is James back?”she questioned me.
I swallowed hard, trying to push down another wave of tears that were threatening to spill forth.
“No, Alice. He is not,”I said, my voice finally coming back to me even though it was hoarse and broken.
“Do you want to play dolls?”she asked, unperturbed by my disheveled appearance and the sorrow in my eyes.
“Maybe in a bit,”I told her with a weak smile.
I sat there until the feeling in my feet and hands began to return, only to find a new kind of numbness starting to set in. My heart, so broken that each beat felt like shattered glass within my chest, now was dull and lacked much feeling at all. In that moment, I feared it might never feel the same again as I watched little Alice play.
“Cora, would you like some tea and bread?”Addie asked from the kitchen.
I got to my feet, my ankle still swollen and sore, yet the physical pain paled in comparison to what I was feeling in my heart. I limped my way to the old oak table and sat down. Addie brought over a cup of tea and a large slice of bread with a thick piece of cheese to the side. I sipped the tea, feeling the warmth chase down my throat into my belly, yet it did nothing to warm me. The chill of James’s death still held me within its grip.
Malcolm came and sat at the table, poured himself a large cup of tea, and then asked me the question I was dreading.“Can you tell us what happened, love?”
I stared down into my cup of tea for a long time, trying to find the words. He may not believe my fanciful tale, yet I had to tell him. I sat quietly for a moment before I found my voice.
“We were on our way back after collecting what we needed for Gran. James rode down by the loch on the trail near its shoreline. Just before heading into the forest, we saw a child on the thin ice in the middle of the loch. He refused to leave her and jumped off the horse, venturing out onto the ice toward her,”I said, my voice ragged and steeped in sadness.“Just as he reached her, she vanished, and he fell through the ice. I tried to get out to him, but I had injured my leg the day before, and I didn’t make it to him in time. I managed to pull his body from the water but could not save him,”I told them, tears running down my cheeks. I had decided to leave out the parts about the kelpie and the deal I had struck with the fairy as I had no idea how they might react to such a story.
“What happened to the girl?”Addie asked, her motherly concern deepening the lines on her forehead.
“I don’t know. It was strange. She vanished just as he reached her, or maybe fell into the ice with James,”I replied.
Malcolm looked at Addie with distress in his eyes, then turned to me.“There are kelpies in that loch, you know? I warned James many times while we hunted near there, but that boy only believed them to be tales told to scare children.”I remained silent, but we shared an understanding of what had actually happened on the loch.
“Now, the duke will want to know what a hero his son was in his death, so we will tell him that he jumped in after the girl but sadly was unable to save her and himself. No need to mention the idea of kelpies to the duke, as this will all come as a shock to him as it is,”Malcolm said, taking a sip from his cup of tea.“I know there was some urgency to yourtrip with James in getting medicine for your gran. I will take you back along with James’s body as soon as you feel up to riding again.”
“Malcolm, might I inquire as to why you came to the loch today?”I asked, my voice laden with sorrow.
“Last night, one of the horses returned, and I knew at once that something must have occurred. When the storm abated this morning, I resolved to bring the horse and seek you out, to ensure all was well. I am glad I did, or I fear that you might have met the same ill fate as James. I just wish I had come sooner,”Malcolm explained, his voice heavy with regret.
I wished that Malcolm had not come, as I would have happily died with James on the loch, letting death’s cold embrace strip me of my pain. Yet my life was not the one that hung in the balance; Gran needed me, and so for her, I pushed on.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Cursed Lives
Upon my return to the castle, a whirlwind of events ensued. The news of James’s untimely death swept through the corridors like wildfire, casting a veil of sorrow over the entire estate. I knew the moment when the dreadful news reached the duke and his lady, for the heart-wrenching cries of the duchess reverberated through the sturdy stone walls, echoing the anguish that seized us all.
I had little time to offer my condolences to the duke and duchess, for I needed to make it to Gran’s chambers with the ingredients for the spell before it was too late. If I could not save her, the trip and James’s death would have all been for naught. The grief thick in the air had all but consumed me, but I pushed on with the remedy tucked safely in my bag.
I limped into the room to find Gran lying motionless on the bed, and for a moment I thought the worst. Her skin was paler than before,and her eyes looked sunken and dark. Her chest rose and fell in raspy quick bursts, which despite the strain, was music to my ears. She somehow looked smaller than when I had left her. So much had changed in those three days that it seemed almost a lifetime ago. I wasted no time and quietly closed the door and took the book from my satchel, hiding it within the bed linens as I pulled the berries and water from my pack.
With trembling hands, I heated the water over the crackling flames of the hearth, adding the rowanberries, along with the original spell’s ingredients, which I took from the small pouch I had hidden in my bag. I let them steep as I recited the ancient incantation:“Healing waters of the well, aid in helping break this spell. To wake thy from a forceful sleep, berries of rowan I do steep. To counteract a spell gone wrong, I call upon the Goddess’s Song.”
The final words of the incantation hung heavy in the air, their significance weighing upon my troubled mind. Memories of the fairy’s twisted song echoed like a broken melody. A wave of nausea washed over me as I recalled the frightened look in James’s eyes before he plunged into the icy waters and the desperate moments following his death.
I poured the mixture into a pewter cup, its heat radiating through the metal and searing my hands, jolting me from my despairing thoughts. The aroma of the rowanberries wafted through the room. Its bitter earthy scent filled the air, carrying with it the essence of magic. I completed the ritual, repeating the words of the spell as instructed twice more, before allowing the brew to cool. According to the book, the potion was to be applied to the forehead and wrists of the afflicted. Once awakened from their enchanted slumber, they were to consume the rest of the tea.
Once the tea had cooled to a tolerable temperature, I dipped a cloth into it and carefully applied the mixture to Gran’s forehead and wrists. Then, with bated breath, I waited.
“This shall make you better,”I whispered softly, reassuring both of us.
