Page 45 of Highlander’s Evil Side

Chapter Nineteen

Fraser

Three days passed since Kenneth and Gavin were assigned to follow him, and already Fraser was tiring of their presence. Nothing had happened. The Black Stags hadn’t attacked. The Sire Beitris had spoken of had remained in hiding, and Fraser’s look-alike had all but disappeared without a trace.

Time passed slowly while Fraser waited for an attack, for the changeling or the man to reappear, but there was nothing. Soldiers returned in the morn from their long night’s watch over the western village. Men and women trudged in and out of the keep, speaking with the castle healer and grabbing whatever provisions they needed. Unfortunately, there were hardly any places in the castle for so many people.

Fraser sighed while gazing out the window, watching a woman trying to calm her wailing baby. She patted the child’s back. Her face was covered in dirt, her blond hair matted to her cheeks. Fraser felt as if he should be doing more, not standing around, waiting for this man to attack him. He glanced to the right, seeing Kenneth leaning against the wall, picking the dirt out from his nails. He looked to the left, finding Gavin nearly falling asleep, his shoulder resting against the stone.

Fraser sighed. This was pointless. Gavin and Kenneth had much better things to do than follow him around all day. They could be rebuilding the village. They could be guarding the tents and handing out food to the villagers. They could be doing anything but this.

The sound of footsteps echoing down the hall made Gavin and Kenneth both jump to attention, their hands on their hilts. Fraser stifled the need to shake his head at his attentive guards, knowing it was most likely a servant doing her duties or a villager searching for Hamish. Gavin and Kenneth both relaxed when Fraser’s mother rounded the corner.

“Good day, my lady,” Gavin and Kenneth murmured in unison while bowing low.

Fraser forced a smile, yet his mother’s eyes narrowed. Her chin jutted out, and she continued past him without another word. The past three days had been uneventful; however, Fraser didn’t think he could stand his mother’s silence. She hadn’t said a word more than “good morn” or “good day” to him since the meeting with the village heads. He knew she was likely angry with him for raising his voice and demanding she leave the meeting, but what was he supposed to do? She was speaking with his double, she knew more than she told, and he did not know if he could trust her.

But she was still his mother. Fraser could not let this silent battle continue any longer. What if something were to happen to her?

“Mother,” Fraser called while striding towards Helga.

She didn’t turn around. Her black-clad back faced him, and she continued down the hall and up the spiraling staircase towards the battlements. Fraser paused for a brief moment, watching her form disappear into the keep’s shadows, questioning himself as to whether following her would be beneficial or not. They couldn’t continue like this, that he knew.

Fisting his hands, he pressed on, hearing Gavin and Kenneth’s footsteps following shortly behind him. His hands slid against the wall as the shadows took hold of his sight. Light faintly slipped onto the staircase as the door remained open, displaying the clouds hanging low above the battlements.

“Wait here,” Fraser said while raising a hand, not bothering to turn to his guards as he took the last two steps with one swift movement.

If anything were to happen, he knew it wouldn’t take long for Gavin and Kenneth to come to his aid. He suspected his mother of knowing the Fraser fraud, but he highly doubted she would do anything to her only son. Fraser still believed she loved and cared for him, otherwise, she wouldn’t appear so guilty and ghostly.

Helga stood in the middle of the battlements, between the two towers. Her hands rested on the wall while she stared out into the distance as if she was marveling at her lands. She didn’t move when he sidled close to her, his gaze following hers. Several brown tents littered the fields.

Fraser frowned, and he leaned forward, wondering where the guards were. There should be four circling the camp, ensuring the encampment, and yet he saw none. Women, children, and the elderly sat amongst themselves, and Fraser’s insides twisted, knowing he would need to speak with Scott about this. They couldn’t be left outside the castle’s walls without protection.

Fraser turned away from them, wanting to deal with one problem at a time. He took in the sight of his mother, with her chin jutting out and her head held high. Despite how regal she appeared before him with her clean black garbs and her pristine hair, tied in a low plait going down the length of her back, he could still see the shaking in her hands.

When had she become so pallid, so distant? He remembered his mother as a nurturing woman, as someone who enjoyed holding him. She always seemed so proud of him and interested in his work, yet now all he could see was a shadow of what she used to be.

“Ye wish to speak with me, Fraser?” Helga asked while keeping her attention on the fields.

“Aye, I wish to speak with ye.”

Helga pushed back her shoulders, an annoyed sigh leaving her lips. “Then, please, do share.” She glanced at him, a bitter smirk taking hold of her lips. The bitterness didn’t meet her eyes. They stared up at him, filled with sorrow with a hint of something else. Worry, Fraser realized.

“Or have ye come to send me back to my rooms?” Helga’s voice caught his attention.

His frown deepened, but he didn’t say anything as he watched her turn towards him.

“Are ye to order me around like I’m nothing more than a pauper? Is this what old age has to offer me?”

“I know yer angry with me,” Fraser said. He kept his tone soft, low so no one could hear. “And, I have come to apologize to ye for the way I treated ye before.”

Helga huffed and turned away from him. “Is that all ye wish to say to me?” She shook her head. “Ye talked down to me in front of the village heads, in front of our men. Anger?” She scoffed. “I feel more than mere anger, Fraser.” Helga flashed her eyes up at him, and Fraser took a step back, recognizing the woman who had raised him in that tense gaze. She was alive under her shaking, pallid exterior. There was something left of her, after all. “I’m embarrassed. Yer my son, and yet ye spoke to me like I was a child being sent to bed without supper. Yer father never spoke to me in such a way. I expected ye of all people to follow in his footsteps.”

Fraser took her hand and squeezed it gently. He reminded himself he shouldn’t let himself go. She was still keeping secrets from him. He couldn’t trust her with what he knew despite how much he wished to share with her. Fraser missed this woman. He missed speaking freely with his mother, and he wanted to trust her, but he knew now was not the time.

“I apologize, Mother,” he said tenderly. “I deeply regret the way I spoke to ye. I worry for ye. I hope ye know that.” The truth of his words shook him. His mother was hiding secrets from him, but who knew what trouble she was in. Perhaps this man she had met with was threatening her. Perhaps she had reasons for keeping things from Fraser, reasons he may not understand.

His mother sighed, her gaze holding his while her hand tightened within his grasp. “I do, Fraser,” she whispered. “I worry for ye, as well. I only wish the best for ye, but things have been difficult as of late.”