Page 23

Braving the darkness, she followed the small path to the well. It was a stout circular well made of old, thick stones. A pulley mechanism stood tall out of the well. The ropes were draped over the side, and a bucket lolled against the grass.

She placed her hands against the well and peered in, but could see nothing other than a pit of darkness. She scowled and lowered the torch, inspecting the bucket, the ropes, and the ground around the well for anything suspicious. She must have circled the well at least ten times before she gave up.

There was no sense of anything untoward happening, and nothing that suggested foul play. There were too many tracks near the well for anything to stand out, and as far as she could tell, the mechanism was working as intended. Besides, she wasn’t sure what kind of evidence a spirit would leave, and her enthusiasm fell.

She had been so filled with hope when she had been struck with the idea to come to the well, but it had left her feeling empty and dejected. She wondered if she was really the right person to find the cause of this illness. Perhaps she wasn’t as important as she thought, but it left the question of what to do next lingering on her mind.

Because of the way Niall had reacted, she wasn’t certain she felt safe here any longer. Niall’s moods could take him in strange directions, and the last thing she wanted was to feel like a stranger in her own home. But she could not return to the Monroe clan as that would force suspicion onto her no matter how much she protested. It was in these moments that she had always turned to Marcas.

He had always watched over her and protected her from the unfairness of the world, even back to that moment when their father had fallen in battle. They had been watching the fight unfold from the safety of the castle. She had been filled with pride at the sight of her father leading the charge.

There was even a part of her that wished she could be a warrior just like him. However, tragedy had befallen her father. She hadn’t seen it, though. As soon as Marcas realized what was happening, he had turned her face away. He had always been her shield against the world, and now she needed him more than ever.

Fearful, she returned to the castle and penned a letter to her brother. She wrote quickly as her hands trembled with nerves, and she hoped that Niall would not be too angry with her.

Dear Marcas,

I hope this letter finds you well. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same is true for me. Something has happened…people have fallen ill, and the healers suspect that it is poison. Nobody knows who would want to poison the clan, but Niall has it in his head that you would be capable of such a thing.

I fear that his suspicion would even fall on me, that he believes this whole wedding has been some scheme on our part. I do not know what to do. I have tried to be a good wife. I have tried to do everything you wanted me to do, but I need your help.

You must send someone or do something to convince Niall that you had no part in this. He will not listen to me, and I’m afraid. I miss you, brother, and I do not know what else to do. I cannot take care of this by myself. Please help me.

With love,

Moira

Some of the words were blurred as tears fell from Moira’s eyes. Her hand trembled as she folded the letter and took it to a servant, thrusting it in his hand and telling him that he must leave immediately because it was vitally important. The servant nodded sharply and then Moira breathed a sigh of relief.

She had seen how a clan could turn on itself so quickly and was determined to not let the same thing happen here, but there was little she could do without Marcas’s help. She thought it would all be better if Marcas arrived. Then he and Niall could talk like men and be reminded of the peaceful treaty they had signed.

Surely the last thing they would want is to end up like their fathers and continue this senseless hostility. But if that did happen…Moira shuddered at the thought of what would happen to her if war broke out. She would likely be held as a hostage against the Monroe clan, and whatever life she had hoped for herself would never come to be. She suddenly thought herself foolish for ever expecting to be happy.

With nothing else to do, she started up the stairs, but paused. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face Niall yet. He had said so many hurtful things and all she wanted to do was rest. She was tempted to find another room in which to spend the night before she shook the thoughts away.

This was her home and she shouldn’t be scared of her husband, or of expressing her right to sleep in her own bed. With added courage in her footsteps, she ascended the stairs and thrust the door open, puffing out her chest, ready to defend herself should Niall say anything untoward. However, Niall was nowhere to be seen.

She wasn’t certain whether she should be relieved or not, but she had a feeling that the longer this tension lasted, the worse it was going to get.

Moira crawled into bed, brushing her hair before she settled down comfortably. She assumed that Niall would be by his sibling’s side.

As she thought about Jamie and Isobel, she felt a pang of shame and wondered if she had been too hard on Niall. He was suffering, after all, and sometimes when people were in pain, they said unkind things they did not truly mean. Perhaps she should give him the benefit of the doubt. He was dealing with enough at the moment without stress from his wife ready to be added to it. So she decided to wait for him to return, and when he did, she would try to placate him and make things a little easier.

She ended up waiting for so long that she drifted off to sleep. It was only when Niall stormed in that she was startled awake. She yawned and had lost all her bearings, but when she saw Niall, she smiled and was about to talk to him about things and to apologize for her conduct earlier.

She wanted to explain that she only wanted to help, but then she saw the look on Niall’s face. It was twisted in fury and a dark shade of crimson. At first, she wondered why, but then she saw the letter he clenched in his hand and she groaned. She threw the covers off and moved forward, hoping to speak with him and explain everything before he jumped to conclusions.

However, it seemed as though the leap had already been made. Before she could utter a word, he was already berating her, and Moira was stricken with an utterly hopeless feeling. It was as though even when she tried to do the right thing, it ended up being the wrong thing.

Perhaps I am the cursed one in all of this.

15

“What is this?” Niall thundered. The door closed behind him and his words reverberated around the room. “I was actually beginning tae feel guilty about the way we spoke earlier, only tae find that my suspicions were right!

Ye would dare send a letter tae Marcas? I thought I knew ye, Moira.” He shook his head and paced around the room like a wolf. “I really thought we had begun tae make strides, and I thought that I could trust ye. As we got tae know each other, I was able tae forget that ye were a Monroe. I cannae believe that ye would dae this!” He took the letter and tore it in half, flinging the shredded paper away.

The two halves drifted down to the floor. Moira pursed her lips and tried to remember that he was worried about her siblings. She had to try to keep a calm head in these matters else she was liable to lose all her poise, and she might say something she regretted. But that didn’t stop his words from hurting. It didn’t stop her heart from aching.