Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“Aye, together,” she said.
Ryland held her throughout the night as she slept in his arms. He remained alert, dozing now and again but never letting himself fully sleep, keeping alert, ready to protect Esme. He could feel and see the worry in her. Though she said she would no longer let Torrance darken her life, he knew it would not be that easy for her. Torrance had a way of leaving his mark on people one way or the other. He had tried to do it to him but had failed. It takes time to erase, to be rid of such a burdensome mark. But Ryland had faith that the love he had for Esme would make all the difference and that time would heal the invisible wounds she had suffered, and Torrance would be nothing but a faded, powerless memory.
CHAPTER 19
Darkness pressed in from all sides. Esme stood on the upper floor of the keep, the walls long and shadowed, the air thick with unease. She didn’t remember how she had come to be there alone, not seeing Ryland anywhere.
“Ryland?” she called out, her voice tight with fear.
Silence was the only response she got.
She moved soundlessly over the cold stone floor as she hurried from chamber to chamber, heart pounding. Shadows leapt and danced, fed by glimmers of unseen firelight, but she found no sign of Ryland. Why had he left her alone? He promised he would keep her safe. Her panic swelled.
“Where are you?” she whispered, her body beginning to tremble.
She suddenly found herself in the corridor where the weeping had echoed before, but now it was oppressively still. A chill wrapped around her, a warning, and she turned only to see an old woman standing there. The same woman from the celebration at Clan Rennoch. Silver hair hung around her shoulders like strands of mist and her dark eyes glowed fathomless.
“Ryland must find the healer,” she said, her voice thin and whispery, as if carried on the breath of the dead. “The one known as an Seann Bhean.”
Esme opened her mouth to speak, to demand more, but the woman lifted a finger.
“Beware,” she whispered. “Friends are foes… and foes are friends.”
With that, she vanished, dissolving into smoke that curled around Esme like grasping hands. A low growl rumbled through the air. Esme’s breath caught as the hallway dimmed further, shadows thickening into something solid. A dark figure surged toward her out of the gloom, no face, no form, only menace, and she screamed, the sound ripping from her throat as she threw her arms up—
Esme woke, thrashing in Ryland’s embrace.
“It’s me, Ryland. You’re safe, Esme,” he said, tightening his hold, his voice rough with concern. “It was nothing more than a dream.”
Her chest heaved, the scream still lingering on her lips, the terror still clawing at her insides. She clung to him, trembling, her cheek pressed against the warmth and solidness of his muscled chest.
“Nay, it was much more,” Esme whispered hoarsely, struggling to strengthen her voice. “She… the mysterious woman who spoke to me at Clan Rennoch, said you must find the healer called an Seann Bhean… the old woman. And she warned to beware that friends are foes and foes are friends.”
Ryland stilled, recalling how the woman had told Esme that she had to go with him on this quest. Was this why her presence was necessary?
Tears slid down her cheeks unchecked. “It felt so real, Ryland. So real…”
He cradled her closer, his hand stroking her hair, his concern for her mounting, feeling her slim body tremble against his. “Then we will take heed, Esme, since I believe you are right. It was more than a dream.”
Dawn had barely touched the sky when they left Purdom Keep behind, its silhouette swallowed by mist. Ryland held Esme close, her back pressed against his solid chest, his arm tight around her waist as if he feared she might vanish with the fog.
Silence lingered between them, though it was not born of distance but of weight, of dreams and warnings neither could ignore.
They followed a narrow trail into the woods, the trees arching overhead like cathedral columns. The forest breathed with cold, quiet purpose, and Ryland’s every glance scanned the shadows.
Esme broke the silence, tilting her head slightly to look at Ryland. “Do you know where to find her? The Old Woman?”
His jaw tensed. “Nay, I have no idea, but someone must. We should come upon a village soon. I’ll ask the questions needed… as Torrance.”
She asked gently, “Are you ready for that?”
“Are you?” he asked, his eyes filled with concern.
“I want to say, aye, but it will be strange seeing Torrance return in you, and me being his target once again. He was a skilled marksman and just like his arrows hitting their mark, his words hit with the same precision and pain.”