by D. K. Combs
“I—I—woman. Blaine. She should have come. What is wrong with her? What has her so sick that she cannot see her own—I need to speak with her, immediately. Immediately, immediately.” He limped backwards, away from her, his own rambling voice trailing off into insanity. Her heart pounded. She couldn’t let him go—she had to know what was going on, she had to have some answers.
“Nay!” she said forcefully, taking his arm. She cringed at the feel of pure skin over bone. Not a single ounce of meet graced his flesh. “She does not wish to see anyone.”
“I am her—no! Take your hand off of me, I will see her for myself and I—“ He stumbled backward, a sharp, airy bark leaving his mouth. She cursed, shooting forward to prevent him from falling. He struggled against her help, but the second he was righted, he seemed to calm. “I cannot make the journey, but I need to see my Blaine. I need to see my Blaine. In so long—so long I haven’t. She was…why didn’t she come for me?” he croaked, taking hold of her hands and tightening his grip around them. The velvet sack he had been holding had fallen to the ground.
She tried to tug herself away from him. In the shadows, just beyond his head, she saw the outline of Connor coming forward. The flash of metal she saw told her he was prepared to defend her. Saeran quickly shook her head, the same time she managed to pull out of his grasp.
With soothing tones, she said, “Give me a message, and I will relay it to her for you. I will make sure she comes if you do. Alright? Please, sir. Let me help you.”
“Blaine…should be the one to help me.”
“And she will,” Saeran murmured, patting him on the shoulders. The same grey eyes met hers, though this time they were glazed, confused. It was almost as if he were staring through her, not at her. Saeran tried to keep her fear to a low. It would only send him into a panic if she did otherwise.
“You promise,” he said sharply. “Promise to bring me Blaine.”
“Yes,” she lied. “I promise.”
“Tell her—tell her she needs to see him. Him and his companion—and soon, but only after she sees me,” he insisted, wild eyes staring up into hers. “She must come see me first. I need to see my Blaine. Need to—need to see her.”
“Where and when does she need to meet them?” Saeran asked, trying to make him focus. He was so wrapped up in some inner turmoil that it appeared he did not notice her at all.
“After me,” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air. The action sent his body balance and he pitched forward. “After meeee.”
His wail ended when she caught him, once again righting him. He jerked and growled in her grip, eyes unfocused, hands clenching and unclenching.
This was not what she had expected, but at the same time, she was getting more out of it than she had originally thought she would. She pushed the guilt over the ordeal aside, telling herself that this had to happen, that she had to do this for her own good.
“Where and when?” she repeated, praying that she got the information out of him before he was completely lost to insanity. Drool slid out of the side of his mouth, thick and nearly yellow. Saeran backed away from him, shuddering.
There was something wrong with him, and she couldn’t begin to think of what. She almost didn’t want to.
“Here. Always here. My Blaine knows this—she has to be here in two days. Do you understand?” he gasped, gaping at her like a fish out of water. “She has to see me first.”
Saeran stared at him with wide eyes. He was honestly foaming at the mouth. His legs gave out and she was too stunned to catch him for a third time. “Here, two days. Same time?” she asked, kneeling in front of him. He nodded, but it was more of a spasmodic jerking of his body and his head was caught in the wave.
When his eyes closed and he fell silent, his chest moving with a steadiness that depicted sleep, she looked behind her. Connor was there, watching the man with the same horrified look she wore.
“Do we help him?” she whispered as Connor came up beside her. He was silent for a while.
“I…I am not entirely sure. How bad would we feel if we left him here?” he asked, squinting at the man.
Saeran sighed. “I do not think I would sleep properly.”
“Fine. You take his hands, and I’ll take his feet. We can take him back to the inn and mayhap someone can show us where to put him.”
“Aye,” she said with another sigh, reaching for his hands. Connor picked up the forgotten black sack and took the man’s feet. Upon seeing the grey-yellow nails, she adjusted her hold and took his wrists. They were frail and when they lifted his him, it felt as if he’d break.
Thankfully, the village was only a couple paces away. While Connor gingerly took him by the feet, she blessed the Lord that he had come with her. She didn’t know what she would do without him.
THT | 32
“Oh, my lady! Tis so good to see you ag—what in all that is holy are you doing with Alan like that?” The inn keeper’s wife, a stout old woman named Mabel, gaped at them with wide eyes as they carried the man into the inn. Luckily, it was late enough that all of the towns’ people were asleep, so they did not have much to worry about. Even now, the inn was silent besides the crackling fire.
“He…” Connor and Saeran shared a look. How did they say, without looking suspicious, that he had begun foaming at the mouth and they were the only ones there? If she had seen what Mabel had, she would assumed they had tried to kill the man, who was now named Alan.
“Come, come,” Mabel said, waving them into the inn. The fire was hot and warm, taking away the chill of outside almost immediately. She had them set him on a bench. When Saeran released his hands, they flopped to the ground. She quickly stepped away from him, his stench overwhelming her. The entire time she’d been carrying him, she had struggled not to vomit. He smelled…ghastly. “He hasn’t died, has he?”
Saeran looked at his bumpy chest, saw the rise and fall, and shook her head.
“Oh, poor thing. We’re all waiting for him to take his last breath. He’s had a time of it, he has. Come, loves. Tis warmer by the fire.” She took Saeran by the elbow, leading her to the hearth. Connor followed, tying the black sack to a loop in his shirt.
“What do you mean, he’s had a time of it?” She could clearly see that he had, but the question came nonetheless. For a man to be so sickly that he foamed at the mouth and slept showed that there was something wrong with him, and despite herself, she was curious.
“My lady, I am not so sure that he would appreciate the gossip.”
Connor spoke up for the first time since they entered. “Blaine Sinclair sent Alice here to meet with him. While we were in the middle of our conversation, he did…that.” He gestured to Alan.
“Blaine?” the woman repeated, eyes widening. Saeran watched her. She sounded as if she knew the name—specifically, the person. “Lady Blaine is such a joy to us. How is she?”
“What?” Connor looked like he couldn’t believe his ears—Saeran understood completely. “A joy, you say? The woman is a horror. She—“
“Now, I know she has a rough side that takes some time getting used to, but she really is a sweet girl, so don’t go slandering her like so. Alan would be devastated to hear you speak of his daughter like that.”
“What?” Connor and Saeran gasped at the same time.
Mabel gave them both a look. She was a pretty, thick-boned woman, only a couple years older than Saeran herself, with brunette hair and just as brown eyes.
“She really is, though she hasn’t come to see us in a couple days. I do miss her visits. We all understand, though. Her marriage to The Lion must be terrifying. She risks her life coming to see us, but she does, and we admire that of her. Have you heard from her recently? I know Alan was looking forward to seeing her.”
Saeran looked at Connor, at a loss for words. What was she talking about? Surely they weren’t speaking of the same Blaine, the one who had passive aggressively made Saeran’s life a living hell. Surely they were not speaking of the same
woman who had made it her point to bring Saeran into a spiraling pit of insecurity and pain?
It did not make sense. The way Mabel spoke of Blaine, it was like she was a saint!
“Is there another Blaine here?” Saeran asked, feeling numb.
“There is only one woman married to The Lion that is named Blaine, you silly girl. Nay, the Blaine I’m speaking of is a joy. Have you heard of Saeran?”
She nodded, her body feeling…empty. Confusion was running rampant, confusion and hurt. So Blaine really wasn’t her sister. Saeran had helped drag Blaine’s father—a living, breathing man—into the village. She stared at him, at the small drop of drool that was sliding down his chin.
There had to be some kind of explanation to this. Something that would make sense—but there wasn’t, not one that she could see.
“Well, that’s you’re proof of who we’re talking about. Only Blaine would have someone as evil and atrocious as Saeran as a sister. I’ve heard that she has boils the size of a foot and eats children for breakfast.”
Saeran slowly turned her eyes to meet Mabel’s. They were offended on behalf of Blaine, and completely convinced of the false truth they had been told. Connor reached over, taking Saeran’s arm. She hadn’t realized she was reaching for the woman’s throat before he took hold of her, stopping her.
She couldn’t strangle the woman for believing a lie her sister had spread. Somehow, she had found time to visit the village, and through her father gain the people’s trust and loyalty, while lying to them the whole time. That was all there was too it, and the only thing she could see that would have happened.
Blaine did not have a nice bone in her body. Whatever motive she had to make these people like her was lost to Saeran, but she would find out.
“Where did you hear these rumors from?” Saeran asked, getting the words out through a clogged throat. She was so furious that her vision was turning red. How could Blaine have done that? How could she lie about Saeran, when all she had done was dote on Blaine? How could Blaine paint her as such an evil person to people who should not even matter to her?
“Why, from the laird’s leman, Gwen. Blaine is quite grateful to her, despite how ironic it seems. The laird’s wife and leman, getting along? Seems strange, but I guess Blaine is grateful for Gwen taking the laird’s attention away from her. He’s quite dangerous. Have you met him?”
Connor made a low sound from beside her. This time, she was the one stopping him from doing anything rash.
“Kane Shaw and Blaine Sinclair are not yet married,” Saeran said, gently correcting the woman through her own confusion. Lord, but what had Gwen and Blaine done?
Mabel gave them a smile. It was full of pity and amusement. “Love, of course they are. Once the laird saw Blaine, he couldn’t stop himself from taking her as his own. Tis what a brute of a man does, you know. We were all so afraid for her, our dear Blaine.”
“I don’t understand,” Saeran whispered. The woman was speaking like she worshipped Blaine.
“What is there not to understand?” Mabel asked, cocking her head.
Saeran pushed herself to her feet, shaking her head. “I think I will retire for the night.”
“Same for myself,” Connor said, taking her arm and helping her to stand. Saeran leaned in to him, too stunned to focus on holding herself up, and shared a look with him. He didn’t have to say it, but she knew he was thinking the same thing she was: what the hell was Blaine up to?
Mabel stood, giving them a kind smile. “Have a good night, loves. My daughters will prepare baths for the both of you.” Then she waddled off, ringing a bell by the hearth. The muted female voices in the other room were heard. Connor started to lead them to the stairs, but Saeran shook her head, tugging him to the door.
She didn’t want Mabel’s daughters to overhear them talking, and a fresh breath of air was much needed. The price of the dress she was wearing now had been costly, but it had come with two rooms for the night. Saeran would later pay the full cost of a room for herself, and Connor if he wanted one, for however long they stayed here.
“I’m sure you’ve been thinking this the whole entire time that woman spoke, but something is wrong,” he hissed, running a hand through his hair. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. He continued. “How can anyone in their right mind even consider liking Blaine—no offense to you, my lady. But honestly! This does not make sense.”
Nay, it didn’t. And it wouldn’t until she could either confronted Blaine on the matter, or speak to the two men who Blaine was supposed to meet.
“…and to spread lies about you, no less!” he snapped, throwing his hands up. “If anyone eats children for breakfast, it’s the dragon who spread the rumors herself. Lord, but I am furious.” To accent his words, he stamped his foot on the ground.
“Do you have the sack that…that her father had? The black one?” She ignored his rambling. It would only make her furious, and she couldn’t focus on her feelings. Blaine was planning something, and any clue they had would help her figure what it was.
Connor patted his waist.
“Let me see it, please.”
He gave her a dubious look while untying the sack. “What do you think this has to do anything?”
“What if he had planned to give it to Blaine?”
“Wouldn’t he have given it to you?” he asked, handing it to her. She unsynched the string.
“He was obviously upset that I wasn’t Blaine, and not very coherent. I bet he forgot about it when he realized she wasn’t there.”
“That’s likely, but what do you think that has to do anything?”
She bent her head toward the opened sack, meeting his eyes. “That’s what I want to find out.” She gave a small sniff, and almost gagged.
Connor took it away from her, doing the same.
He gagged as well. “What in the hell is this?” She held a hand over her nose, trying to forget the rancid, strong smell that had come from it, and touched the bottom. It was too dark for them to see the outline of the sack, and she wasn’t prepared to stick her hand into the unknown of a smelly bag.
She clenched the bag in her hand, felt the shifting of cloth and the sound of something grainy, and met his eyes. He took another smell, this time prepared for it. He pulled back with a gasp of air, holding his stomach.
“Hemlock, mixed with something ghastly. I think I might vomit from the scent of it,” he said, promptly bending over to do as he had predicted. Saeran turned away, closing her eyes. “Thank you for letting a man vomit in honor.”
“Do not go sniffing that again,” she said, reaching for the bag. He willingly gave it to her. “What is Hemlock?”
“Very effective poison. Resembles a spiky leaf. It’s best to stay away from that sort of stuff.”
“A poison? Why would he have a poison with him—and why would he give it to Blaine?”
“Don’t ask me, my lady. I only know what Kane has told me about the plant, not why someone would use it. Though, if I had to guess, I would say Blaine asked her father to obtain some for her so she could kill someone without using any brute force.”
Saeran’s stomach began to hurt, and not from the stench of the ground hemlock mixture.
“But,” he continued to say, rubbing a non-existent beard, “who would she be aiming to kill? From what I know of her stay at the keep, she has made no enemies.”
Saeran gave him an arch look.
“What I mean, my lady,” he said with a sigh, “is that people are so terrified of her that they generally stay clear of her wrathful dragon eyes. So yes, people may dislike her, but everyone is too terrified to become a friend, causing a betrayal of sorts, then turning her into an enemy. More like, she is angry at someone, and wishes to take care of them so they are no longer a problem. She seems the type to do that, though I can only speak from what I’ve seen.” He coughed, whispering, “Dragon.”
“Someone angered her,” Saeran repeated, feeling like she was going to reenact Conn
or’s previous dispelling of food. She was too shocked to believe it, but in her heart, she knew it was true. She knew her suspicions were growing and they were all being pointed in the correct direction.
“Yes, most definitely, though I do not know how because like I said, everyone was too terrified of the dragon. The only person I can think of that has actually stood up to her is…”
She met his eyes, heart jumping to her throat. Tears burned her eyes, tears of frustration, shock, betrayal. She had known that staking a claim on Kane like she had in the hall would come with repercussions. She had known that Blaine would be furious. She had known Blaine knew what Saeran had done behind her back.
Saeran hadn’t cared if that hurt her sister. She had felt justified in her actions for all of the times Blaine had put her down and insulted her. She had felt justified in taking Kane from Blaine, when Blaine had taken everything from her.
Now, Blaine was going to make her pay for it.
“Me. I was the one who angered her.”
Connor stared at her, the realization dawning just as suddenly as it had on her.
The first tear slid down her cheek, just as the light of the moon cast a shadow as its glare was disturbed. The shadow was in the shape of a man.
“Alice?” Kane asked from behind her.
THT | 33
If anyone could melt on the floor and slip into the cracks, Saeran would gladly give them everything she owned. She could not believe what was happening, nor could she escape it. The fact of the matter was, Kane had found her—and she was in the middle of crying.
She stiffened, meeting Connor’s eyes. He refused to meet hers.
“Alice,” he said again, this time his voice contrite. He turned her around with a hand to his shoulder when she refused to move from her spot. This could not be happening—simply could not be happening.
When she faced him, though, it all became a reality. For whatever reason, he had noticed her—and once again, she had been dumb enough to not change into the garb of a boy. The tears worsened, no matter how hard she tried to stem them.