by D. K. Combs
She knows. I’m sorry. I had planned to meet you at the church, but current events have held me back. I’ve sent a serving woman in my place, as you know. In a moon, I may be able to meet you in Birkshire. When time permits, I will be at the boulders. My condition has become critical.
I love you,
Blaine.
Saeran read the letter over again, frowning. She knows? Who knows? Meet who? Blaine was meeting with people? Saeran skimmed the letter once again, then flipped it over. There had to be more. Blaine didn’t love anyone—except for Blaine herself.
“What does it say?” Connor asked, peering over her hand. She shoved the letter at him, still scowling.
“I have no clue. She was supposed to meet someone—Blaine was. Gwen was supposed to give the letter to someone.”
“Who, though?” Connor murmured, scanning his eyes over the parchment. “’Boulders’, ‘Birkshire’.” He looked at her, eyes narrowed. “That’s the village we are camping outside of. There’s a ring of boulders behind the whor—“ He stopped, clearing his throat. “There’s a ring of boulders near the blacksmiths.”
“But who was she going to meet?” she asked, picking absently at the wax pieces in her lap. She rolled it around in her fingers.
“A lover?” he asked, raising a brow.
Blaine? A lover? She shuddered. “I’m not so sure.”
“She did say ‘I love you’ at the end, my lady.”
“That does not mean she has a lover,” Saeran said, wrinkling her nose.
A look of horror passed over his face as if he realized what he was saying. “Aye. You’re right. Not a lover.”
The word made the two of them shudder.
She reached for the letter and he gave it to her. What had she meant by condition? Saeran pushed the thought aside. She was known for lying and exaggerating for attention.
“This is just—when would she have found the time to meet this person before? It seems like she has left the keep to see them,” she asked, eyes scanning the parchment. She kept reading it, expecting something new to pop out at her, but nothing did.
“Aye, it does.” They rode in silence, their hushed voices quiet for a while. She couldn’t stop her mind from thinking, from worrying.
“What I want to know,” she said, “is who knows what? And why is she sorry?”
“Do you think she meant you?”
Saeran raised a brow at her. “What could I know? And why would she apologize for it?”
He sighed. She shared the sentiment completely. She wished she could believe that this was a misunderstanding, that maybe Blaine hadn’t been the one to send the message, but her name had been signed. Mayhap if she hadn’t been furious with Saeran, Saeran could believe that that the letter was harmless—but what if it was a lover? She was meant to marry the laird. At least, that’s what she thought. Saeran knew it wasn’t going to happen, but Blaine did.
It didn’t make sense. Why would her sister—
Her sister.
Blaine wasn’t her sister—she had told her that.
“I know,” she gasped. Saeran could have slapped herself for not realizing it. “She told me we’re not sisters—do you think that could be it?”
Connor was silent. He wouldn’t even meet her eyes. Her excitement over figuring out who Blaine had meant died down a little, and she knew why he was quiet.
“My lady, I know you and Blaine do not have the best of relationships…”
She dropped her eyes to her lap. A forgotten piece of wax was there.
“That doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Yes, it does. I know—despite how confident and brave you can sometimes appear, that her words have made you worry.”
A laugh bubbled up her throat, but it was too tight to break free. They didn’t make her worry—they made her react the complete opposite. She thought more of Kane than her sister’s words. In a way, she wasn’t surprised by them. Her growing annoyance with Blaine had given her a clear view of what was really happening—and had made it apparent that Blaine had never loved her.
Even if they had been blood sisters, and Blaine hadn’t loved her, Saeran would still consider Blaine as…not her sister. It was that simple. Right now, she had more important things to worry about.
“I was weary of doing this, with the letter and reporting to you what was happening with Blaine whenever I heard something. I just…understand. That you’re pushing it aside—and the more I push it at you, the more it will start to hurt—“
“Connor,” she said softly, fighting the truth in his words. “What happens, happens. I’m at the lowest point I can get. The only thing I want to do is make it back home alive, and I doubt even that will happen.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m going to find out who Gwen was supposed to meet.”
THT | 31
“Camping here for the night. Donna cause problems in the village like last time, aye?” Kane said over his shoulder. He swung himself off his mount, giving the graceful beast a pat on the head.
He started about unpacking his bags while his men followed suit, carrying conversation through the dark woods. It was night, with only the light of the moon to guide them, and that’s what Kane liked the most.
“Brodrick,” he called. “Start the fire. Mayhap we can draw some game to us.”
“Yer the only man I know who looks forward to going head to head with a bear,” his friend grunted. Nevertheless, he started to make the fire. Kane turned back to unloading his saddle—or he would have. The two figures at the edge of the trees made him pause, however. Kane forgot about the horse.
Saeran and Connor had been talking the whole ride—leaving no one to wonder if their voices were loud enough to carry to their enemies. Though their voices were hushed and blurred together, they hadn’t made an effort to stay silent.
His steps were angry as he drew near them.
“…you are not. I forbid it—I will tell Kane, Saeran. In all that is holy, I will—“
“Tell me what?” he growled, folding his arms over his chest. The two dainty figures froze. Saeran had his back turned to him, but he could see the panic that overcame his squire’s face. He had always been a terrible bluffer.
“Nothing,” Saeran said, quickly turning around. His face was pale, if not whiter than Connor’s, but there was a determined gleam to them that made him pause.
Where had he seen that look before?
“It’s something, if my squire feels the need to threaten ye’.”
A look of frustration entered the lad’s eyes. Saeran elbowed Connor, but kept Kane’s eyes, as if he hadn’t done that. Connor grunted, rubbing his side.
“Saeran wants to meet his first whore.” Connor gave his companion a snarky smile.
“What?”
“Really.” Kane looked between the two of them. They were not arguing over a matter such as that. Whores for young men such as themselves was common—except in Connor’s case. Connor was…different.
“Nay, I—“
“Saeran,” Connor said, patting him on the shoulder. “You do not need to be embarrassed about your sexual urges.”
“But I am not—“
“And I was trying to explain to you that there were two brothels. One of which you may not go to.”
Kane knew the one he was speaking of and nodded, grimacing. “Half the men that leave that brothel come down with a sickness, near their cocks. I’d strongly advise ye’ no’ to go there, if ye’ want to bed with a woman again.”
“Do you have experience with brothels?” Saeran asked, a tone coming to his voice that Kane did not understand. The lad sounded jealous.
Kane grinned. “Oh, aye. What do ye’ think I do when I’m away from the keep. Ye’ have a lot to learn, lad.” He slapped him on the back. The boy was so thin that he nearly fell to the ground. Kane grabbed him, frowning. “Are ye’ alright?”
A healthy flush dotted his cheeks as he pulled out of Kane�
�s grip. Connor was standing back, a hand over his mouth, laughing. Kane gave him a look.
“Ye’ need to eat more meat,” he said, taking Saeran’s arm. He wrapped his hand around it, squeezing. Lord, but he was a thin boy—even thinner than his puffy shirt made him appear. Was he malnourished? Kane didn’t see him in the hall for dinner often. “Ye’ll be taking two servings tonight, after ye’ return from the brothel.”
He gave Connor a hard glare. “Donna let him go to the brothel near the edge of town. Trust me, lad. No’ a good place to be.” He gave them both a slap on the back, gentler than before with Saeran, then headed off. Why was there something so familiar about the lad? Kane looked over his shoulder, staring at Saeran.
At that exact moment, Saeran looked over his, and met his eyes. He realized what was so familiar under the dim light of the moon, with the shadows casting over the boys dirty face.
The eyes.
They were the same, pale, crystalline blue as Alice’s.
“You are disgusting!” Saeran hissed, smacking Connor on the arm. He winced through a laugh.
“Mayhap if you were not so impulsive, irrational, and a woman, I would not have had to put you in that position. You know, if you were actually a man, we would not have that problem.” He gave her a suggestive look, making her blush while scowling at him.
“I would like to point out there is nothing wrong with my being a woman—“
“Oh, please. There is and you know if. Only you would be so ready to put your life at risk without means of protecting yourself—“
“Connor, all I am doing is meeting someone. Even if the danger arose, I would be able to protect myself perfectly fine. I’m sorry, but I will not be deterred in this.”
He glared at her for so long she became antsy. Then a triumphant smile came over his face.
“How do you expect to meet a man who is expecting a woman? You’re not exactly dressed for the occasion, my lady.”
Saeran gave him her own smile of triumph, patting her side where the pouch of some of her inheritance was. “One does not inherit Sinclair assets without a few benefits.”
She had kept that hidden from Blaine. At the time, she hadn’t understood her own reluctance at showing Blaine the portion she was keeping for herself, but luck had apparently been on her ignorant side. Upon packing for their trip to the Highlands, she had pushed aside her guilt and done what her gut told her—store and hide as much of the money she could. Of course, she told herself that she was doing it as a contingency plan, and that had helped to alleviate the guilt.
Now, she was grateful for her thoughtfulness. Blaine would have never allowed her to leave had she known Saeran had funds.
“What is that look for?”
“Haven’t you heard, my dear Connor? Dresses are a girl’s best friend—and I plan to buy a few, as well as a room at the inn.” She gave him a jaunty nod, turned on her heels, and started away from her. She would not be deterred, and damn anyone who tried to stop her—including Connor.
“The village is this way, my lady,” he said drolly, grabbing her by the arm and steering her in what she assumed was the correct direction.
“Thank you, sir.” Then she stormed off, hands on her hips, thoughts whirling. When she was only several steps away from him, she began to panic. She couldn’t do this alone—she had never done or attempted anything like this!
Yes, she was pretending to once again be something she was not in the form of a serving woman for Blaine, but—but this was different! She was in possible danger, no matter how much she wanted to believe otherwise.
Saeran started to tremble, hands sweating.
Connor agreed with that much, or he would be coming with her. Saeran wrapped her arms around her chest, shoulders slumping. Aye, she couldn’t do this, but she had made up her mind and would continue on with her decision, as best she could. She felt, deep in her soul, that Blaine was up to more than even Saeran suspected.
The voice that came from behind her moments later made her breathe a sigh of relief.
“Well, you can’t be doing this alone now, can you?” Though he was mumbling to himself, she nodded emphatically.
“Aye, I couldn’t. Does that mean you’ll be helping me?”
“Only because the laird would have my head if he found out I let you do this without protection.” They began walking together, Connor twining his arm through hers. To someone else, it would have looked odd. Two men, walking in the forest alone, arm in arm. Saeran didn’t care in the least. His presence calmed her enough that she could walk properly.
“The laird does not care for Saeran all that much,” she pointed out, remembering the way their eyes had met before he left. There had been conflict, confusion. Speculation. It brought a chill down her back, to think that he might be connecting the pieces. “Alice is a different story, though.”
“Yes, which is exactly why I said he’ll have my head—because eventually, he will discover who you really are, and, my sweet Saeran, I cannot wait until that day comes!”
“Well I feel terribly sad for you,” she said, looking at the ground. “It will not happen.”
“My lady—“
“Please,” she said, suddenly sick to her stomach. “Can we not just finish our mission? No more talk of that, or of Kane.”
He frowned at her. “What are you upset about, my lady?” When she didn’t answer, he must have taken it upon himself to think of what could have her upset. He patted her shoulder, nodding knowingly when she looked at him.
“Jealousy is a terrible thing. Do not worry about the other women—“
“What are you talking about?” she asked. Other women? There were other women besides her, and she had not known? Her chest tightened.
“The laird—he was flippant about the brothels, and I assumed you were jealous of his past in them. It’s why you’re upset, no?”
She stared at him, frown growing. “Upset? There is nothing to be upset about that. He is a man, Connor. Men love women in their bed—or vice versa. I might not be married, but I know that much. What he did in his past does not affect our future.”
“’Our future’,” he echoed. A grin split his lips. “Oh, Saeran, I do believe you are slipping in your effort to be covert.”
“You read far too much into things,” she growled, quickening her pace. His laughter followed behind her.
The grass was shifting in waves over the vast hills. Moon light accented the journey of the wind as it caressed the green tips of the Highlands. The scene was surreal, cold and yet welcoming at the same time. A soft, frigid wind blew pale blonde hair back from Saeran’s now-clean face. She gripped her newly bought skirts in her hand, waiting in the blue light for her query to reveal himself.
Mayhap she had been late in arriving? Mayhap he had already come and gone. Saeran looked behind her, toward Connor. She could not see him in the shadows, but she knew he was there, waiting. That was the only comfort she allowed herself. She clutched the missive from Blaine in her hand.
It had taken her longer than she had thought to find a fitting dress—bought off of the inn owner’s wife, for an unreasonably high price—fresh water to clean her face off with, and black wax to reseal the letter. It had taken so long, in fact, that she was once again wondering if she had missed him.
Mayhap it was for the better that she missed him. This was clearly a terrible idea—Connor had said so himself, and when had Connor ever been wrong? She shifted the weight of her feet, the missive crumpling in her fingers.
Aye, a terrible idea. Saeran resigned herself to a failed plan and, with a not-so-heavy heart, turned on her heels—that is, until a rustling of grass drew her attention to a dark figure just across from her.
“You are not Blaine,” the voice whispered. She squinted, trying to see a face. Hidden in the shadows as he was, it was impossible. Saeran held out the missive, bidding him to come forward. Her hand was trembling. She prayed he didn’t notice it.
“She sent me here with a lette
r for you,” Saeran said, watching as a bent form came out of the shadows. Inch by inch, a man’s face was revealed, and soon enough, his body followed suit. She always ran screaming for the hills.
He was grotesque, like a demon. His face was pale, fat with skin, and splotched with red, brown, and grey. She retracted her hand slightly, fear settling in her gut. What could happen to a man to make him look so…
She couldn’t finish the thought. Saeran felt horrible for her quick judgment of him, but kept her space nonetheless as he came forward. In his gnarled hands, there was a black, velvet sack. She watched him wearily.
“Let me see that,” he demanded, his old man’s voice weak. She deftly gave him the letter, mentally crossing herself when he met and held her eyes. They were grey, silvery—almost as if he were blind. This was the man Blaine loved?
The thought made her look at the ground. There was more going on than everything appeared.
She listened, watching him out of the corner of her eye, as he opened the paper. She watched as small crumbles of wax fell and bounced on the grass, keeping her hands clenched firmly at her sides. She had no clue what to do in this situation—she was an imposter, in possible danger, and had no clue what to say to find out answers.
“’Condition has become critical’,” he muttered. She jumped when he shot in front of her with much more speed than she would have thought he possessed. “What does this mean, her condition has become critical?”
“I—I am not sure,” Saeran said, backing away from him. A ferocious light entered his eyes. “She has appeared healthy to all who have seen her. She just—I was told she could not make the trip, so she gave me the letter to give to you. I will take back any message you have for her, of course,” she said soothingly, trying to placate him. With each word out of his mouth, he began to resemble a beast, an animal gone wild.
Thankfully, Connor had stayed out of sight. The man had yet to make a move toward Saeran with actual intent. Even if he did, she was sure she could handle him. He was half her size, and not in the best of shape.