Page 13 of The Guardian's Witch

She stopped, a thoughtful smile on her lips. “No, I know the way.” The soft whisper of her skirt followed her up the stairs. Apprehension gathered round her like a close fitting cloak the nearer she got to her room. She stood in front of the door, her hand poised on the latch. She shrugged off her misgivings, summoned her courage, and went inside.

Warm light filtered through the window and her eyes eagerly drank in the familiar surroundings. Thoughts of happier times flooded her mind and dulled her anxiety. Her fears were replaced by a single thought—safe.Two years ago she’d left this room. Although she’d come back to Glen Kirk from time to time, she’d restricted her visits to the Hall and kitchen. That was the only way she could keep her memories safely locked away.

She ran her hand over the counterpane on her bed and touched her mother’s even precise stitches. A flash of grief ran through her. The room looked the same, but she quickly admitted the truth—it wasn’t the same. Her heart ached. Yes, she had to face the fact that it would never be the same.

She took the few clothes she had brought from the lodge out of her satchel and hung them in the wardrobe. A houseboy arrived, laid the fire, and quietly left.

The pain dulled as she freshened up from her trek. Since it was too early to go down to the hall, she sat by the hearth lulled by the crackling fire and soothed by the smell of pine. She was mesmerized by the dancing flames and indulged in thoughts of better times.

“Do you think he’ll notice me?”

Lisbeth stood in Laura’s room,helping her dress.“Laura,don’t be a ninny.Of course he will notice you.You’re his bride.”

Laura broke into a radiant smile.“Yes,Iknow.Iwanted to hear you say it.Bride.”Laura,exuberant,twirled around and caught her sister’s hands.“Oh,Ilove him so.”

Lisbeth smiled.Her sister’s joy was contagious.“And he loves you too—we all see it,”she said,holding Laura’s fingers tightly.Her heart squeezed.She’d miss her sister so much.

“Ican’t wait until you find your true love.”Laura danced over to the window and looked out at the arriving guests.

The smile dimmed on Lisbeth’s lips.She wasn’t like her carefree very-much-in-love sister.She had visions,and they came with burdens that were hers alone.Marry?No,she would never marry.

She tossed her head to rid herself of the melancholy.She wouldn’t let anything interfere with Laura’s day.Everything would be perfect.“Get away from the window before they see you.It’s time you finished dressing or you’ll be taking your vows in your chemise.”

Lisbeth peeled back the dark velvet cloth on the nearby table to uncover Laura’s bride gift,ajeweled comb.The heirloom had been in Jamie’s family for generations.

But instead of the comb she began to reveal the jeweled handle of a dagger.

The whispers of a hundred voices filled her ears.Her fingers itched to pull off the cloth.She knew she would find the weapon’s tip missing.

The whispers grew louder and turned into incessant buzzing.She reached for the cloth but it remained beyond her grasp.She stretched and strained to no avail.

A loud crack made her jump. A log fell in the hearth and sent a spray of sparks flying up the chimney along with her vision. Flames licked at her fingers. She blinked, shocked to see her outstretched hand almost in the fire, and quickly pulled it away.

She scrambled back in the chair away from the flames and gulped ragged breaths. The outline of the dagger was imprinted behind her eyes. Slow deep breaths, one after another, helped steady her. Now that her breathing was under control, the crackle of the fire was the only sound in the deafening quiet. Her eyes darted around from one thing to another. Panic laced through her. An overpowering compulsion drove her to escape from the room.

She jumped up from her seat, ran to the door and threw it open. The everyday noise rushed at her. She looked down the corridor. The place where she and Laura ran and played was a mere memory. Panic started to bubble to the surface. Once again she forced it down.

Calm on the outside, butterflies on the inside, she climbed the well-worn steps to her old hiding place in the storage room. She walked among the chests and boxes that lay scattered about. There was some comfort in surrounding herself with her family’s things. She found a small space on the wide windowsill and sat, her head in her hands. She should have stayed at the lodge.

What was she thinking? Glen Kirk was his now. At least the burden of worrying about her people was lifted. They were safe. Why had she agreed? She stopped abruptly. Did she come here because of him? No, he had requested that she return. Well, in truth, he had ordered her to come back.

She leaned against the window frame and let the terror fade, but she couldn’t rid her mind of the vision of the cloth and the jeweled dagger it hid. She was certain its blade was broken. She removed the steel fragment from her pouch and turned it over. The writing on it must be significant. The handle of the dagger in her vision had been ceremonial, not utilitarian. She ran her finger over the flat of the blade and felt the inscription. The answer was here. She just had to unlock its secret. She dropped the fragment back into her pouch.

She walked around the rafters and looked at her family history packed away. Her eye snagged the chest with her mother’s personal items. The last time she had seen them was when Ann had packed them away. She ran her hand over the top.Safe. Tears gathered. One look. That was all. She opened the lid and breathed in the lavender fragrance.Mother. Her hand ran over lace and silk. Underneath were her mother’s silver comb and brush. She remembered sitting with Laura at her mother’s dressing table waiting her turn for Mother to brush her hair and dress it with lavender ribbons. Laura preferred pink.

Lisbeth was about to close the lid when the binding of a book caught her attention. She pulled it out. It was made of fine soft leather. The cover was tooled with her mother’s initials. She opened it. Her breath hitched. The pages were filled with her mother’s handwriting. She reverently closed the book and clutched it to her chest.

She shut the box, the small book still in her hand. She didn’t have the courage to read it, not yet. Perhaps with Laura. The lump in her throat that had been building began to ease.

She let loose a heavy sigh. She was back at Glen Kirk. She could do this. It would only be for a short time. Soon she would return to the lodge.

Her stomach rumbled. She wasn’t certain if it knotted from hunger or anxiety. Either way eating would be a welcome distraction. Dinner wasn’t formal at Glen Kirk but protocol demanded she attend. She went down to the Great Hall leaving the ghosts of another time behind.

A loud commotion assaulted her ears when she reached the bottom of the steps. She entered the Great Hall unnoticed and was surprised to see men already seated at the lower tables. A quick glance confirmed Alex was neither at the dais nor anywhere in sight. Her brows wrinkled with surprise.

She stationed herself by the hearth to get a better view of the room. There were soldiers—two armies actually—gathered at the far end. Her father’s men stood out in their black and gold livery. They came to attention when they saw her.

She nodded her acknowledgement and they stood at ease, waiting patiently. They spoke softly among themselves and shot darting glances at the other men in the room. She prickled at the tension that rolled off them. Alex’s soldiers were oblivious.

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