A silence so long stretched between us, I feared I’d asked too personal a question. “I’m sorry. I should nae have pried.”
“Nay. ’Tis fine. ’Tis just that I have nae ever spoken of such things. I do nae have my own stronghold, for one.”
I frowned. “What does that have to do with taking a wife?” I asked, thinking of all the clansmen who lived and served on my da’s land, who didn’t have their own strongholds but most definitely had wives, and of all the Summer Walkers who didn’t even have a proper cottage to offer a woman but had wives.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and glanced down. I suspected it embarrassed him to talk of such personal things. “I’m a bastard.”
I felt my frown deepen. Was that supposed to be an explanation? “I do nae follow,” I said.
“I do nae have a name to offer a woman, only that which I took by the charity of my laird and best friend.”
“I still do nae understand.”
“I will have something of my own to give to a wife and future children before I take a wife.’
I thought I understood now. James believed he was unworthy to take a wife until he could provide his own stronghold, and given that he was a bastard, simply being the right-hand man of a great laird would not give him that. “I ken many women who are wed to men who do nae have strongholds.”
“Those men have families of their own,” he said, “and last names that are truly theirs.”
I could tell from his now terse tone that arguing would be futile. He’d made up his mind, so I said, “I assume ye have a plan to secure a stronghold.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Aye,” he replied. Before I could ask anything else, he added, “A man without land belongs nowhere. I want land of my own. I want to belong.”
I understood the longing for something so deeply that whether it was reasonable or not, whether it would truly fill thehole inside you, did not matter, because you could see nothing but getting what you desired. I’d been that way about Alec. I swallowed, feeling a closeness to James that felt dangerous if I let it go too deep. I would be saying goodbye to this man, no matter what, and I could not forget that. “I imagine yer laird feels ye belong.”
“Aye.” He smiled faintly. “I was raised alongside him, more like a brother than a bastard. But his feelings do nae change how I feel. Enough about me,” he said. “Tell me, how serious an injury can ye treat?”
I could have rebuffed his attempt to turn my focus away from him, but I understood. And he had, after all, answered questions about himself with great honesty. I could answer a few of his questions if they were not leading to the truth about me. “Serious enough that I’ve been called unnatural,” I said, truthfully.
“Unnatural?”
“Aye,” I replied. “I once brought a woman back from death.”
He looked skeptical. “How?” he demanded.
“She had taken a lot of water into her lungs, and I have learned over the years that this can make people stop breathing. If ye can force air back into their lungs, they will often spit out the water and breathe on their own once more.”
“Ye speak as if ye have seen a thousand summers.”
“It feels like it,” I said, wishing for one breath I could tell him the truth and share the burden I carried so that it would feel lighter.
“We’ll stop here,” James said, sweeping a hand forward.
I followed his gesture and drew in a breath. I had been so engrossed in conversation that I had not even noticed the woods around me were changing. The land opened ahead of us, the trees giving way more abruptly than before, as though we had crossed an unseen boundary. A river cut through the earth, itssurface flashing in the midday light, moving faster than I would have expected for a stream of its size.
The air here felt different. It was cooler and sharper, carrying the clean scent of water over stone. The breeze moved more freely, no longer caught and stilled by the close press of trees. Had it always been so stifled before? I could not recall.
As we approached and dismounted, James took the reins of my horse. “I’ll take care of the horses. Ye tend to yer needs, and if ye need my aid for yer wounds—”
“I will nae,” I assured him, fighting the memory of his sure, strong hands on my body. It was one thing to consider bedding him. That was lust. It was quite another to invite his hands to care for me and aid me. That was connection. That was trust. That was letting someone in, and the thought of growing close to James, possibly falling in love with him, only to lose him to death if my curse still burdened me, was more than I cared to bear. I didn’t wait for his reply; I started toward the river. The ground softened beneath my boots with each step, and the steady rush of water filled my ears, louder than the wind, louder than my thoughts.
A faint rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. I glanced up. Clouds had begun to gather where the sky had been clear. I crouched at the river’s edge and dipped my fingers into the water. It was colder than I expected, stinging my skin.
And then I stilled. The current was wrong. No, no, that could not be. I scrambled to my knees, pressing my palms into the damp earth, and leaned toward the water, watching it more closely. I traced the way it slid past the stones, pulling at leaves and bits of debris. It was not simply moving. It was pulling things along, drawing everything with it in a single, unwavering direction.
Gooseflesh peppered my arms, and my scalp began to tingle. I knew this direction, or I thought I did. Knots tangled in mychest, and I lifted my gaze, following the river’s course, then turned slightly to align it with the hills behind us and the path we had taken. The pieces did not fit as I had thought they should. Memories of my da’s lessons came to me once more.
Ye must ken the land, lass… or it will fool ye.
