“Give over, lad.”
“I’m serious. If we can all tell that ye are miserable, that ye miss her, doesnae that tell ye that ye ought to do something?”
“Enough, Fergus,” Evander responded, his voice a little harder this time. “I ken that ye mean well, but this is me decision. I daenae take orders from ye.”
Fergus inclined his head. “I’m nae trying to give ye orders, me Laird. I’m trying to give ye advice, because I am yer friend and I care about ye.”
Silence fell. Evander said nothing, staring out the window.
After a moment, Fergus stifled a sigh, and creaking footsteps echoed toward the door.
“Daenae forget yer tea, Evander,” he said softly.
The door creaked open and shut again, and when Evander glanced over his shoulder, his friend was gone. The room was empty, and he was alone once more.
Turning back to the window, he eased it open, crouching down to fit his arm more easily through the gap. Gingerly, he patted along the windowsill. The awkward angle made his shoulder ache, and he was distantly aware that if he knocked the item off the sill, it would fall into the forest below and he’d never find it.
It’s probably nae a gift. It’s foolish to think so. The poor bird probably just left a treasure here, and now I’m about to steal it.
Something cold and circular shifted under his questing fingers. Swallowing, Evander carefully pinched at the item, drawing it back along the sill until he could more easily slip it into his hand. Once he’d drawn his arm back inside the window, safe and sound, he allowed himself to open his hand.
A silver ring glinted in his hand.
He blinked, sure that he’d somehow made a mistake. The ring was tarnished, to be sure, but it was certainly silver beneath all that tarnish.
Heart pounding, he tried to slip the ring onto his finger. It didn’t fit, being too small.
This is a woman’s ring.
Of course, the raven could have picked the ring up from anywhere. Ravens liked shiny things, and sometimes they discarded the said shiny things without any rhyme or reason.
Abruptly, Evander’s knees decided that they’d had enough, giving out from underneath him. Back against the wall, he let himself slump downwards, landing with an undignified thump on the floor, still staring at the ring in his palm.
“She doesnae care for me,” he said aloud. “She could have refused to go. I wouldnae have dragged her into the litter.”
The thought rang falsely in his head. After all, it was a rare person, without any self-esteem at all, who would insist—no,beg—to stay somewhere they weren’t wanted. And that wasn’t the kind of person Skye was.
And how do I ken what kind of person she is? We… We’re like strangers. There’s no reason for me to be drawn so strongly toward her.
He closed his hand over the ring, squeezing tighter and tighter until the smooth, curved edges bit into his palm.
A person could interpret this as a sign. After all, it was a little heavy-handed—a corvid delivering a woman’s ring, something that almost looked like a wedding band, right after a friend had urged him to go after her.
If I didnae ken better, I’d say that the Fates were giving me a sign. But I do ken better.
Evander climbed unsteadily to his feet. Almost without thinking, he swept up the cooling tea that Fergus had poured, downing it in one long gulp. It was good tea. There was cake on the plate too, but he knew without trying that it would taste like wool in his mouth and just as dry.
Fortunately, I am nae the type who believes in signs,he thought grimly, shoving the ring into his pocket.
